Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [50]
“Lovely,” Lady Margaret said, grabbing Christian’s arm before he could change his mind.
“I shall return shortly,” he called over his shoulder to Lady Ella, who was looking bereft. He watched, almost stepping on Lady Margaret’s feet now, as a swarm of young men surrounded Lady Ella. To his satisfaction, however, she continued to peer through the crowd of suitors after him.
“Marianne,” Lady Margaret said as the first notes of the next dance began. “Here is His Highness.” She practically shoved Christian into her daughter’s lap.
Christian took Marianne’s hand in his and led her onto the floor, feeling fuzzy and irritable. Lady Margaret was known for her grace and kindness, so why was she being so stern this evening? Nothing seemed to make sense, and he stumbled his way through a reel with Marianne—still red-eyed and looking daggers over at Lady Ella—having to guide him through the relatively simple steps.
As he saw Dickon Thwaite lean solicitously over Lady Ella, both he and Marianne nearly stumbled together. Then Lady Ella lifted the hem of her skirts just a little, to let Dickon see her feet. A flash of shining pink shoe, and Christian felt the floor rising up to meet him.
The next thing he knew, Poppy and Marianne were bending over him, and Roger Thwaite was shouting for everyone to step back and give Christian room to breathe. Everything seemed to swirl, and Christian shut his eyes again. When he opened them, there were three dark-haired girls leaning over him, and he thought he might be sick.
The girl with the blackest hair and a gown of purple and silver, though he could not remember her name, was trying to pull up his sleeve. He opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing, and she frowned at him.
“Wear this,” she said curtly. “And stop making a fool of yourself!” She tied something itchy on his wrist, then patted the back of his hand. “I hope this works,” she muttered.
“What? Where is Lady Ella?”
Poppy lurched to her feet and, taking Marianne’s arm, drew the other girl away. Their dark heads were inclined toward one another, and both girls were very pale.
Christian didn’t even have time to look at the thing on his wrist before Roger Thwaite was holding a tumbler of something odorous to his lips. Christian gagged, and Roger poured the stuff down his throat and then pushed the empty glass into Christian’s hand. Christian thrust the glass away, and it shattered on the polished floor of the ballroom, the broken pieces disappearing almost at once.
Christian wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as his vision cleared, and accepted Roger’s hand up. He was so embarrassed by the evening’s events that he wanted to crawl under a sofa and hide. Lady Ella fluttered around him, and he was pleased to see that she appeared none the worse now for his having trod on her toes.
“Are you quite well, Your Highness?” She brushed at his lapels and straightened his hair for him.
“Yes, I feel fine.” Her touch on his head was soothing, and he felt a surge of energy course through him. He disengaged himself from Roger’s hand. “Thank you, I’m all right,” he said stoutly to the older Thwaite brother, who was looking at him with deep concern.
“Are you certain?”
“Oh, I feel fine!” Christian straightened his jacket. “In fact, I should apologize to Marianne, and let her pick another dance. I don’t want to ruin her birthday ball!”
Roger blinked at Christian in surprise, and Christian wondered what was wrong with him. This was Marianne’s night, and he owed her an apology. Roger, with his impeccable manners, should appreciate that.
“And I’m still trying to get Poppy to give in and dance with me,” Christian continued.
Now both Lady Ella and Roger were staring at him.
“But remember, Your Highness,” Lady Ella broke in. “You promised to dance all the dances with me. And my foot has quite recovered!” She tapped him fiercely with her fan to call his attention to her fully.
“Are you hurt?” Roger’s sharp eyes