Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [70]
For his part, Christian felt like a clock that had been wound too tight. At any moment he feared he might spring to the dais and start screaming at all the smiling, laughing courtiers. Poppy was in danger, they were all under a spell, how could they just drink and dance as though nothing were amiss?
Princess Emmeline twirled by, dressed like a milkmaid (albeit a milkmaid in a satin gown), and Christian fought down a surge of dislike. He remembered her derision about her former maid’s clumsiness, which Eleanora now suspected had been caused by the Corley. The poor girl had been orphaned, thrown into the streets, and then slowly drawn into a witch’s clutches. All Emmeline ever had to worry about was convincing her parents to let her stay up late to attend a ball, as she was tonight.
And here Christian was, pretending to have no interest in any woman but Lady Ella. Well, it was partially true: he wasn’t interested in anyone else. But the majority of his interest came from the fact that Poppy would be Lady Ella tonight.
Would the Corley uncover their deception, and what would happen to Poppy if she did? If she didn’t, would Poppy’s feet be all right? They still weren’t sure if Eleanora could be healed.
And would Poppy really dance all night with him?
Christian kept turning to look at the door of the ballroom but didn’t expect Poppy to arrive any time soon. After all, Lady Ella always appeared late and made a grand entrance, and the masked ball had only been underway for half an hour. Most of the guests had arrived with unusual punctuality, and were also craning their necks around. He suspected that they, too, were waiting for the mysterious Lady Ella, since she had captivated not only Christian, but all the noblemen of Castleraugh, even as she alienated the women.
He wondered if the spell would be broken tonight. Would all the nobles of Castleraugh be talking about Lady Ella to their grandchildren? Or would the magic fade once the Corley had what she wanted?
Or better, once they stopped her.
Christian was drawn from his thoughts by the hush that fell over the ballroom. It was Lady Ella; the guests wouldn’t be so quiet for any other reason. He turned to face the double doors and saw a magnificent figure framed there. All in peacock blue silk with plumes of that very bird rising around her head and trailing from her skirts, Poppy looked magnificent.
And there was no doubt in Christian’s mind that it was Poppy. No one, he thought, could mistake that proud bearing or sheer vibrancy of spirit. No mask or glamour could hide the fluid grace that said she was a born dancer, for all her professed hatred of dancing. And he couldn’t help noticing that her hair was darker and glossier than Ellen’s, and her figure? Well, Poppy had a very nice figure.
It wasn’t hard to push the other gentlemen out of his way to reach her side first. It wasn’t hard to bow and kiss her fingers, and it was without any compulsion at all that Christian asked her to dance.
A small mischievous smile curled Poppy’s lips.
“I would be honored, Your Highness,” she said, and slapped his arm with her peacock feather fan.
Christian laughed and took her arm, steering clear of the fan. “Can you dance?” He teased as they took their places on the polished floor among a host of dashing pirates and romantic beggar maids. “Or are you merely fond of the occasional entrechat?”
“I have some meager skill,” she said airily.
The orchestra began to play a gigue, one of Analousia’s more intricate dances, which did make use of the entrechat. Two steps to the left, and Poppy twirled up and down in Christian’s arms flawlessly. A woman nearby stumbled, either from clumsiness or because of her elaborate costume, and Poppy skipped lightly out of the way.
Christian marveled that Poppy claimed she hadn’t danced in nearly three years. She was the most skilled partner he had ever had, as light in his arms as a butterfly, while carrying on a conversation as easily as though they were seated in the Seadowns’ parlor.
Laughing at his expression of amazement,