Chapter 35 #2
The crowd burst into applause, drowning her words.
With the play now done, costumed men ran around the hall, hovering their hands over their eyes in the exaggerated pose of looking for something.
One actor pulled a chambermaid up from the floor, leading her to the open center of the room as music started playing.
A second actor collected Queen Mary’s dwarf, and a third collected the queen’s favored lady-in-waiting.
I wondered how the lady would feel about dancing in the same circle as the servants, but no one acted surprised by the mix of classes, as if the spectacle of the masque dissolved all social barriers.
Two more actors wandered the room looking for partners.
One climbed onto the dais, stepping over the ladies-of-honor sitting on their cushions until he stretched his hand to the very lady I’d been searching for, pulling Margaretha to her feet.
Dressed in crimson and glittering in royal jewels, Margaretha absolutely extinguished all the other women in the room, leaving herself the one bright flame surrounded by guttering, spent candles.
The entire hall seemed entranced by her beauty as she followed the actor onto the open floor, but with all eyes on her, her lightning gaze was riveted on me. I was helpless to look away.
“Here.” Ilsa pushed a handkerchief into my gut. “You’ll need this to mop up the slaver.”
I shoved her hand away, irritated that she’d made me lose sight of Margaretha even for a second.
Standing and finding her again, I weaved through the crowd of onlookers, matching my place in the room with hers as I watched the hop-steps, lifts, and turns of the dance.
Indulging my thoughts of Margaretha all those nights was definitely playing havoc with my willpower.
Her partner took his backward step, and without thinking, I pushed my way into his place, putting my hands on Margaretha’s waist and lifting her in a turn.
When I set her back down in front of me, her wide eyes exposed her shock.
“You are recovered,” she panted. “I am glad of it.”
“I too.” I would have been sorry to miss seeing her in that dress.
Lifting her into another easy spin, I was disturbed by how familiar it was being close to her again.
That after all the time apart, it felt natural putting my hands on her waist and breathing in the smell of the red flowers crowning her hair.
Natural and alluring. Despite hoping to smother every last spark of desire for her, I felt its burn even now, reminding me how much I cared for her, whether I wanted to or not.
But I hadn’t joined the dance to rekindle impossible hopes.
“I wanted to thank you for your help the other day,” I said while she leapt before me. “To keep beating in the forest with a gashed and bloodied leg is a pain I’m grateful to have avoided.”
“You should be grateful to Felipe for letting you see his physician. The man for the servants is a butcher.”
I didn’t have any gratitude toward the prince.
“Friedrich, you press my hand too tightly.”
I relaxed my grip, but my eyes wandered to the prince, whose steely gaze was locked on me. I nodded with a smile of forced politeness.
Margaretha caught the exchange. “Though you may not care for the prince, he has the power to grant my brother’s freedom. That should make you happy.”
“It does.” My answer was clipped.
The dance was winding down, the moment slipping through my fingers like rain. I wasn’t yet ready for it to end. Lifting her in the final leap, I set her down so close in front of me that our faces were a breath apart as we stared into each other’s eyes, neither of us moving.
“Friedrich,” she whispered.
I swallowed, and my hands gripped her waist tighter.
“I-I don’t expect,” she stammered. “If you never find it in your heart to . . . to forgive me, I hope that, in my saving Samuel, you can at least see I do not value human life so meanly.”
I sighed. “Margar—Countess, the only life I think you value meanly is your own.”
The song ended, the crowd’s applause dissolving our intimacy, and she took a step back. I couldn’t let her leave yet. I seized her hand, bringing her eyes up to mine. The vulnerability on her face stabbed me with a sudden ache for her. “I wish, I wish I could find a way to—”
“Mea columba.” The prince grabbed Margaretha’s hand right out from mine, not even acknowledging my presence. “Are you ready for our dance?”
The smile she offered him did not reach her eyes. “Always.”
Throwing me a sorrowful final glance, Margaretha left with the prince.
I made a straight line to the wine table and raced through a cup, reaching for another just as Ilsa appeared at my elbow.
“I thought you had no interest in dancing,” she hissed, then whirled around and stormed out of sight.
***
Margaretha
Friedrich was still at the wine table, alone.
“Felipe, I’m parched. Can I bow out of this dance to fetch a drink?”
“I’ll fetch you one myself,” he offered.
“Many thanks.” I masked my disappointment.
His chivalry thwarted any hopes of speaking to Friedrich again, of learning what he was on the verge of saying when Felipe had interrupted.
My mind was playing over our conversation, guessing, hoping what he was about to say, when my name stood out in the flow of ladies’ conversation behind me.
“Do you think Lady Margaretha stained her dress in blood before the masque?” It was Dorthea’s voice.
“I think her dress is divine,” Anna pitched in. “The perfect color for a harlot.”
The women giggled. “Yes, doesn’t the Bible say your sins will be crimson if your name is ‘White as Snow’?” Dorthea asked, and they laughed harder at her distorted recitation of the verse.
“I think she’s given up playing Lady Snow White now,” said Lady Anna. “You see her singled out, arm in arm with the prince, alone with him all the time.”
“Hush, ladies,” Jakelina whispered. “She’ll hear you.”
“And what if she does? Yo-ho! Snow White!” Anna called.
Dorthea giggled while Jakelina continued to shush them.
I didn’t move. I wouldn’t betray that I’d heard them, but I couldn’t stop myself from squeezing my fists into balls so tight it strained the seams of my gloves.
Felipe returned with my drink. “For you, my lady.” He handed it to me with a gallant, overacted bow.
I took the cup from him, guzzling down the spiced wine, preferring the burn in my throat to the burn of my tears. When I finished draining the cup, Felipe gently took it from me.
“What troubles you?” His eyes were soft.
I shook my head, but he wouldn’t heed it, taking my elbow and leading me from the hall into the cool night and the beautiful gardens of Coudenberg Palace.
I knew what idle prattle our time alone would cause, but considering what I’d just heard, there wasn’t much more I could do to tarnish my reputation.
Felipe stopped us at a fountain gushing perfumed waters. The strong scent, combined with the hastily drunk wine, left me in an odd, dreamy state.
“What happened?” Felipe asked. “Was it that servant man? Did he say something to you?”
“What? No! No, it was only idle court gossipers,” I answered, using the moonlight to inspect my gloves.
The prince took my hands in his, leaving me no excuse for a distraction.
“You worry too much what other people think. Do not let them rob us of our evening. I envied the men who danced with you tonight. I wished it to be me. I still wish to dance with you.”
Music from the great hall floated over the trees and shrubs into our little perfumed pocket of the gardens, and Felipe swayed to the beat.
I laughed. “Won’t we need more couples to dance the galliard?”
He paid me no heed, catching my waist with his hands and pulling me against him.
“This isn’t the galliard,” he said. “It’s a new dance entirely. Forget what you’ve learned and let the music teach you how to step.”
I felt the rhythm of the crumhorns and cornets, allowing Felipe to turn me and lift me and sway with me as he pleased until he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to settle against his chest.
“I don’t think this dance will be taking hold in the courts anytime soon,” I said, and Felipe’s laugh rumbled through his jerkin.
“Tell me, what was it you heard that upset you so? Do the women tell sordid stories of your love affairs?”
I sighed. “Of one love affair in particular.”
“Ah, they speak of us, do they? Say you’re my mistress?
” He held me tighter, and when I rested into his embrace, the weight of guilt sank in my stomach.
Was it right, being here with the prince when part of me wished to be somewhere else?
Tonight, for the first time in ages, I’d been back in Friedrich’s arms, the feel of them dulling the ache I’d carried since the day he’d cast me off.
But he did cast me off. And even though I wanted to believe he was softening toward me, how could I really expect him to forgive me?
Yet here was Felipe, a man who cared for me, who could provide exactly what I needed, and whose heart was pounding in his chest at my nearness.
He was the one I should focus on now. I took a deep breath, letting the scent of Felipe’s pomander chase all thoughts of Friedrich to the quiet recesses of my mind.
“It’s not such a bad notion, you know,” Felipe murmured.
“What’s not such a bad notion?”
“You being my mistress. I can think of very little that would please me more than having you in my arms day and night.”
“Felipe!” I pulled away, slapping him across the shoulder, then covered my mouth when I realized what I’d done. “I cry you mercy, Your Grace.”
He laughed and caught my wrists, tugging me back to lean against his chest. “Come, Margaretha. Don’t tell me you haven’t longed for more than this.
” He lifted my chin with his fingers and bent down to kiss my mouth.
“Or this.” He tugged the glove off my hand, then his lips trailed down my fingers until he kissed the insides of my wrists.
His kisses made me dizzy. I swallowed, trying to call my muddled thoughts to clarity. “I am human, Your Grace.”
His breathy laugh was warm against my skin. “I’ll rely upon that.”