11. Laurel
LAUREL
Aalis gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up as she left with Conrad, clearly impressed that I had secured such a high-profile man for a dance partner.
Baron and his date remained at the same table for nearly an hour before they finally decided to end their evening, and even after they were gone, I could still hear the girl’s high, silly laugh ringing inside my head.
Baron wasn’t that funny. Skilled, yes. Handsome, without a doubt.
Intelligent, very much so. Worthy of being laughed at as though he were a court jester performing tricks for her amusement, absolutely not.
Leopold led me through several more dances.
The evening had stretched on far too long for my taste, and my feet were in agony inside the pointed shoes Aalis had given me.
Each step pinched my toes, and every turn made my ankles flare in pain.
Couples were beginning to disappear from the dance floor, some drifting toward the gardens in search of secluded benches, while others ended their evenings properly and went their separate ways.
I was very eager for the latter.
I had all the information from Leopold that I needed.
The only reason I continued to entertain him was to keep up my cover, but Leopold had consumed far too many drinks and had grown more unpleasant with each one.
He kept dropping comments about how lowly my station was, how generous he was to be seen with me, and how honored I should feel to have the privilege of his attention.
He also seemed to think my gratitude ought to be shown by allowing him to put his hands wherever he liked.
I expected nothing less from an entitled, chauvinistic pig like him, but still, there was a difference between expecting bad behavior and having to endure it.
I was glad Baron and his companion had already left. If Baron had seen where Leopold kept trying to put his hands, he would’ve ripped the man’s arms off, and at that point I might have let him. In fact, I’d rather have enjoyed watching it happen.
After the third time of redirecting Leopold’s hands, I insisted that I needed to sit down and rest my feet.
I lowered myself into a chair near the edge of the room and watched the few couples still left on the dance floor.
The music had slowed, and the candles had burned lower so there were more shadows in the corners of the hall.
Servants moved quietly along the walls, collecting abandoned cups and empty plates, and the laughter that had filled the ballroom earlier had thinned into scattered bursts.
Leopold pulled his chair close to mine, far closer than necessary, and draped an arm around my shoulders before leaning in. The smell of alcohol on his breath hit me and I wrinkled my nose before I could stop myself.
“Done dancing, are you, Isabella?” he asked, his face only a few inches from mine.
“Yes, my lord. I’m exhausted.”
“My room is nearby. You should join me.” He lowered his face toward my neck.
Ugh. Did he actually think any girl with any amount of self-respect would accept such a revolting invitation? I held my breath so I would not have to inhale more of his odor and shrugged him away from me. “No, thank you, my lord.”
“You sure?” His voice dragged over the words. “My bed is very comfortable. Far better than whatever they give you in the servants’ quarters.”
“I’m absolutely sure. You’ll need your bed all to yourself tonight so you can sleep off everything you drank. Besides, I need to get up early to work tomorrow.”
Leopold’s eyes struggled to focus on me. His smile wavered, then returned in a sloppy, unpleasant way. He placed his hand on my knee and fumbled clumsily at the fabric of my dress as he tried to slide his hand higher up my leg.
“Isabella,” he said, as though he were explaining something very obvious, “I’m seducing you. You know that, right?”
I stared at him in disbelief. There were few things farther from seduction.
“I’ll give you two seconds to get your hand off my thigh, or I’ll break every one of your fingers,” I told him through clenched teeth.
Leopold grinned as though I had made the funniest joke in the world. “Don’t be like that, now. Don’t you want to have some fun? This is my first visit to England, after all. You should make sure I enjoy my stay.”
“You will enjoy your stay far more if you don’t have to leave in a coffin,” I said icily.
“Oh, come on now,” he wheedled. “I know how to show a girl a good time.”
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor. “Show a different girl. I’m leaving.”
I walked out of the ballroom and into the empty corridor beyond. The air there was cooler, and the sound of the music faded behind me, though my anger still pounded hot beneath my skin. I had gone partway down the hall before I heard Leopold following.
His footsteps were uneven. He staggered a little as he came down the corridor, one hand dragging briefly along the wall to steady himself.
“Want to find a more private area for us, do you?” he called, his voice too loud in the quiet hall. “I get it, I get it. I’d like that too.”
I stopped and turned. He kept coming toward me with that awful smile on his face, as if every objection I made was simply part of a game he expected to win.
I stepped in close to him, ignoring the strain I was putting on my gown, which already felt ready to tear. Any pretense of flirting or sweetness was gone now. “You’re not getting the message. Leave me alone, or you’re going to regret it.”
Leopold’s expression hardened. His false charm slipped, and irritation showed through the drunken haze in his eyes. “I could have you arrested, you know. You’re just a servant. I’m the best you’ll ever get.”
Then he lurched toward me and tried to grab.
Well, I had given him fair warning.
I slammed the heel of my hand beneath his chin.
His head snapped back, and before he could recover, I grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him forward again.
He stumbled toward me, off balance and too drunk to protect himself properly.
I drove my knee sharply into his stomach, then brought it up again to slam into his nose.
There was an ugly cracking sound.
Leopold cried out, and blood immediately poured from both his nostrils. At the same moment, I heard my dress rip loudly along one seam, but I didn’t care. The gown could be mended. Leopold needed a lesson and I was going to give it to him.
The poor fool offered almost no resistance. Whether he was too drunk, too stunned, or simply too unaccustomed to being told no, I didn’t know, nor did I care. While he was still bent forward, clutching at his face, I brought my elbow down hard against the back of his neck.
He collapsed onto the floor with a heavy oof.
I gave him a swift kick to the ribs with my ridiculous pointed shoe, then daintily gathered my torn skirt and stepped over his body. As I passed, I placed my foot directly on his fingers and pressed down. Leopold let out a high-pitched yelp of pain, then curled on the floor, moaning and groaning.
I looked down at him with all the sweetness I could muster. “Have a good evening, my lord.”