Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [51]
“I—I’m fine,” she stammered. She opened her fan and began waving it vigorously in front of her face, avoiding Roger’s gaze. If Christian hadn’t known better he would think that she had feelings for Roger.
“Well,” Christian said, “as I’ve said: I would hate to be rude to Marianne on her special night. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind so much taking to the floor with Roger on this next dance, while I make things up to Marianne at the least?”
More vigorous fanning, and then a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Lady Ella said, almost reluctantly. “But you and I were to dance all the dances tonight. Together.”
Her voice faded out on the last word, and Christian felt even more confused than he had been over Roger’s and Poppy’s behavior. He couldn’t believe that he had been so dizzy he’d forgotten Poppy’s name. He was profoundly relieved that he hadn’t said something to give his momentary lapse away. She would have teased him for months!
The reel had ended and another dance began: a Bretoner jig. Neither of them very enthusiastic, Christian and Lady Ella joined the other couples on the floor. His dizziness and that strange feeling of having his brain packed in wool had faded, but Lady Ella still winced when the steps of the dance were too strenuous. He wished he had a moment to take off the bracelet Poppy had given him. It itched like mad, and only good manners kept him from dropping one of Lady Ella’s hands so he could scratch it properly.
Spy
Marianne still didn’t want to ruin the effect of her gown by putting on the bracelet that Poppy offered her, but after Christian fainted, Poppy managed to drag her friend into the ladies’ salon. There, to the various looks of shock and amusement from the other ladies, Poppy at last convinced Marianne to hike up her skirts and wind it around her left garter.
“Must it always be about yarn with you?” Marianne complained. “Besides, it’s itchy.”
“It’s wool,” Poppy said. “And drink this for good measure, please.” She reached behind a potted plant and retrieved a glass tumbler full of something that smelled like a combination of peaches and bacon and old stockings.
“Ugh! Why do I have to drink that… what is that?”
“Something Roger concocted, just to make doubly sure you are untouched by the enchantment,” Poppy said, holding the glass as far from herself as she could. “Plug your nose and it won’t be too bad. I drank some earlier.”
“What enchantment?” Marianne was turning faintly green as the smell reached her.
“Exactly,” Poppy said, swirling the contents of the cup a little. The liquid was sluggish and made a glopping noise. “It will be over in one gulp, and then you’ll see what’s really happening.”
“All right,” Marianne said doubtfully. She plugged her nose with one hand, took the glass with the other, and drank. “Oh, it’s awful!” She thrust the glass at Poppy.
“Break the glass,” Poppy said, refusing to take it.
“What?”
“Throw the glass down and break it, to finish the spell.”
“All right,” Marianne said, sounding as though she were just humoring Poppy. She dropped the glass on the carpeted floor without much enthusiasm. It bounced, rolled against an iron table leg, and cracked.
Marianne gave an unladylike grunt and looked at Poppy as though she’d been struck between the eyes. “Ellen is Lady Ella! She copied my dress! I’ll brain her!”
Poppy let out her breath in a whoosh of relief.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Marianne turned on Poppy in indignation.
“I did try,” Poppy protested. “You didn’t understand. It’s part of the spell, so remember: do not take off that thing I knitted you! That’s what’s keeping you from succumbing to the enchantment again. The stinky drink might wear off in a day or so; we’re hoping the bracelets will extend its protection. Tell me or Roger if you start to feel strange.”
“All right,” Marianne said. “Have you got something for my mother and father?”
“Your father doesn’t need anything,” Poppy said. “The enchantment doesn’t work on him.”
“Why is that?” Marianne goggled at Poppy as they went