Princess Of Glass Part 12

stumbled again, and stepped on one of Lady Ella's feet. Letting out a faint scream, she collapsed against him.

Christian leaped back in embarra.s.sment, holding the sagging Lady Ella by her elbows. "I'm so sorry! Are you all right?"

Several of the other dancers b.u.mped into them, causing confusion and laughter from those watching. Mortified, Christian half-carried Lady Ella from the dance floor to a chair where she could rest.

"Did I break your foot?" Christian hadn't stepped on the toes of a dance partner since his first ball at the age of twelve, and now he had probably crippled poor Lady Ella! What had he been thinking, letting his attention wander off after Poppy? As though Poppy's relations.h.i.+p with Roger Thwaite was anything to do with him!

Dragging his attention back to Lady Ella, he knelt by her feet. "May I look?"

She was slumped back in the chair. "You must think I'm such a goose," she said faintly.

"Not at all." Feeling very daring, Christian delicately folded back the hem of her pink gown.

"What happened to your feet?" he asked in a hushed voice.

It made him blush even more, but he couldn't help himself. Lady Ella wasn't wearing stockings, which was rather embarra.s.sing in and of itself. All along the edge of the shoes her feet were white, and not just the white of pale skin. But white like marble, and equally slick-looking.

"What is wrong with them?"

Lady Ella seemed to come to herself. She gasped and 164.

straightened in her chair, shaking down her skirts. Her pale cheeks turned as pink as her gown.

"Oh, Your Highness! Really, I am quite all right! There is no need for you to worry," she babbled.

"If there is no need for you to worry, Prince Christian, then perhaps you had better go find your next partner," Lady Margaret said sternly as she glided up to them. She gave Lady Ella a hard look.

"I think I should stay with Lady Ella," Christian said staunchly as he stood. He smoothed his jacket and smiled at Lady Margaret, but she didn't return the smile.

"Really, Your Highness," Lady Margaret said, voice tight. "You don't want the other young ladies to feel neglected! And all the young men want a dance with Lady Ella. Mustn't be selfish." This last comment should have sounded teasing, but coming through gritted teeth it sounded rather menacing instead.

"But His Highness has insisted on filling my dance card," Lady Ella said, her eyes lowered demurely.

"But if you cannot dance," Lady Margaret said with that same edge to her voice, "it is hardly fair."

By now Christian was so uncomfortable he was fighting an urge to flee the ballroom. But he bowed gallantly to Lady Ella and then his hostess. "Why do you not take a rest, Lady Ella, and I will dance with Lady Marianne?"

"Lovely," Lady Margaret said, grabbing Christian's arm before he could change his mind.

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"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 d.i.c.kon 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 d.i.c.kon see her feet. A flash of s.h.i.+ning 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 166.

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 gla.s.s into Christian's hand. Christian thrust the gla.s.s 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 embarra.s.sed 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 167.

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 were on Lady Ella in a heartbeat. "Should you be dancing?"

"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.

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"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.

169.

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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s as far from herself as she could. "Plug your nose and it won't be too bad. I drank some earlier."

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"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 gla.s.s with the other, and drank. "Oh, it's awful!" She thrust the gla.s.s at Poppy.

"Break the gla.s.s," Poppy said, refusing to take it.

"What?"

"Throw the gla.s.s down and break it, to finish the spell."

"All right," Marianne said, sounding as though she were just humoring Poppy. She dropped the gla.s.s 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 succ.u.mbing 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."

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"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 back to the ballroom.

"I don't know," Poppy said, squinting at the dancers. "But Roger and I are doing all we can to--There she goes, quick!"

The dance had ended. Lady Ella had looked at the clock at the end of the ballroom and was now excusing herself to Christian. Poppy checked the clock, too, and saw that it was a quarter to midnight; roughly the same time that Lady Ella had left the gala the week before.

The princess saw Roger standing near the entrance hall and signaled to him with her fan. The ballroom was crowded and people were taking notice of Marianne's return to the party. Poppy wasn't sure she would be able to make it to the door in time to see where Ella went.

But Roger faded out through the doors just before Ella got there, with Christian as well as several other satellite admirers still trailing her. Poppy turned Marianne over to the sympathetic ladies who surrounded them, and aimed herself at the door out of the ballroom with as much speed as she could muster, considering the people in her way and the heavy gown she was wearing.

Poppy got outside just as the strange, basketlike gold carriage was leaving with Lady Ella. Roger was sitting in his own small buggy, which he had had brought around just behind 172.

Lady Ella's carriage and held at the ready. Poppy scrambled up onto the seat beside him, cursing and hoping fervently that she didn't ruin her new gown, and Roger whipped the horses forward.

He was wearing a large cloak over his evening clothes, and an old-fas.h.i.+oned three-cornered hat he had borrowed from a coachman. He took the reins in one hand and pulled a dark carriage rug from under the seat with the other. Poppy spread it over her light-colored gown.

Earlier, before Christian had fainted, Poppy and Roger had gone outside to see if they could get any information out of Lady Ella's servants. The carriage was easy enough to spot: no one had ever seen the like before and the horses gleamed so bright and white that they didn't look real.

But not only were all of Lady Ella's servants mute, their expressions were so hostile that Poppy found herself backing away, and the coachman went so far as to brandish his whip at Roger when the young man continued to snoop around the carriage. So Roger had a groom get his buggy ready and slip it into the queue of waiting carriages so they could follow Ella when she left.

And now they were racketing through Castleraugh after the golden carriage, which was traveling at an insane speed. It was fortunate that there were a number of carriages about this night, or it would have been very noticeable that they were being followed.

After a number of twists and turns, the golden carriage and the buggy following it had to slow down as they entered a 173.

well-lit but narrow alley that ran behind some very fine manors. Looking around in confusion, Poppy recognized the back of one of the enormous houses.

"We're behind Seadown House," she hissed to Roger, who nodded.

After their wild chase through the streets, they had looped right back to where they had started out, or almost. Normally those riding in the carriages were let out in the front of the house, not back in the mews.

To Poppy's continued consternation, Lady Ella's golden carriage drove through the Seadowns' back gate. Where could Ellen possibly hide a team of horses, a golden coach, and half a dozen servants?

Roger stopped the buggy in the alley close to the fence, and they stood up to look over at what was happening in the back courtyard. A large bonfire had been built near the kitchen garden, but had fallen to ash. As they watched, the coachman drove the horses straight for this ashy, cindery mess.

Poppy almost cried out: the red heart of the bonfire was still visible, and the horses would be burned for certain. But Roger put a hand on her arm to stop her, and they watched in awe as the horses unfalteringly walked through the remains of the fire and disappeared, followed by the golden coach with coachman, footmen, Ella, and all.

"Did you see that?" Poppy's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes," Roger replied, sounding just as shaken.

Poppy had never seen anything like it before. The entrance to the Kingdom Under Stone had been magical, true, but she 174.

had known it her whole life. This was something else entirely, making a coach and horses and servants all disappear before you could blink, and Poppy's confidence crumbled in the face of it. What did she know, really, about breaking such a spell? Nothing.

"We need to tell Lord Richard," she whispered."

" I agree."

Roger pulled his buggy through the gate and gave the reins to a startled groom who came sleepily out of the stable with straw in his hair when Roger shouted. Poppy asked him about the bonfire, and he looked at it as if he had never seen such a thing in his life.

They went into the manor through the kitchen and sent a maid to fetch Lord Richard. Poppy didn't want to get trapped among the guests once more, so they slipped along the pa.s.sageway and into His Lords.h.i.+p's study.