Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Dietrich
Dietrich watched as Ella was claimed to dance by many young gentlemen, all of whom seemed to have more to offer her than he did.
It seemed unfair that Beatrice had invited him to the ball, knowing he would be alone in his inability to provide for Ella as a duchess deserved, while also being the only one who loved her.
Not that her father didn’t love her.
But he alone knew Ella, the way she truly was.
No one else in this room knew the way she snorted when she laughed, or how her nose crinkled when she thought of something she didn’t like.
None of them knew how to make her laugh the way he did, and none of these simpering young lords knew how to make Ella happy for the rest of her life.
None of them knew what it felt like to kiss her.
So the fact that Beatrice had practically forced him to come by calling in a favor felt very unfair indeed.
Beatrice began speaking to one of her acquaintances, and Dietrich excused himself to fetch them both some punch. He didn’t need to stand there looking like an uneducated fool while her husband was away—if her husband was truly gone.
He still wasn’t sure whether she was messing with him or not. Not that it mattered. She had called in a favor, and he would never say no to Beatrice, and she knew it too.
This ball was so much worse than the first one.
At least at the first ball, he had been surrounded by people he knew—his mother, his coworkers, and the townspeople.
At this ball, he was surrounded by lords and ladies who all thought they were better than him, even if they didn’t know that they thought that.
Beatrice had done a good job, he supposed, of dressing him up to fit the part. But the mask was itchy, and his coat was stiff, and all he wanted was to tear them off, steal Ella away, and never come back.
As he approached the punch table, maneuvering around large skirts and giggling women, he couldn’t help overhearing one of the young lords exclaim loudly, “No one else here has a chance. I’ve been betrothed to her since we were children. If there’s anyone here she’s going to marry, it should be me.”
Dietrich’s blood froze in his veins. Surely, he was not talking about Ella.
If she was already betrothed, why hold a ball?
One of the young lord’s companions asked the same question.
“Something about letting her meet me before making her final decision,” the lord responded.
“I don’t know why she would say no to me.
I’m handsome and can offer her a good life, and we all heard the rumors that she wasn’t brought up to be nobility.
I’m sure she realizes marrying me is the smart choice. ”
Dietrich stalked away without getting any punch, making his way to the closest servant’s door and barging through, ripping off his mask, and sinking to the floor against the wall.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get enough air to fill his lungs.
She was betrothed, and no one had told him.
Why hadn’t they told him? Did Beatrice know? She couldn’t have, because she would have told him. She wouldn’t have brought him to this ball if she knew Ella was engaged.
Right?
He took a few moments to recenter himself, sucking in deep breaths before his breathing slowed enough to get to his feet. There was no reason for him to be here if Ella was engaged.
He would tell Beatrice goodbye so she wouldn’t be searching for him and then go back to the stables where he belonged.
He took a deep breath and replaced his mask.
It was a mask in more than one way.
If he had to wear a mask on his face, he could mask his emotions as well, and no one would know that his heart was breaking in two.
He ducked back through the doorway and skirted around the outer wall until he reached Beatrice.
“I must go back to the stables,” he told her quietly, touching her elbow to get her attention. “I’ll make sure you get home safely. Just send me word when you’re leaving.”
“What’s wrong?” Beatrice asked in a hushed voice, turning to give him her full attention as the lady she’d been talking to fluttered away.
“Nothing,” he said, hoping she couldn’t see through it. But of course, she could. It was Beatrice, after all.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated, taking his arm and leading him away from the crowd.
“She’s betrothed,” he said quietly.
Beatrice sighed. “You must know that she cares for you,” she said. “Or she wouldn’t have asked me to make sure you were here tonight.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m going back to where I belong.”
“Dietrich,” she said quietly as another voice also called his name.
He whirled around to find Ella smiling up at him. “May I have this dance?” she asked, raising her hand.
Dietrich felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut with a very sharp knife.
Did she know she was betrothed? If she knew, why would she be asking him to dance? Was her father holding back that information from her too?
“Of course, my lady,” he said. As Beatrice let go of him and stepped back, he offered his arm to Ella and led her to the center of the dance floor as the musicians struck up a waltz.
He had never been more thankful for his mother’s dance lessons as he led Ella in the waltz with half the nobility of Galamere watching him. He could hear whispers around the room, probably asking who he was—none of them would know him.
And why should they? He was nobody—a stable boy who had worked for the duke his whole life—and had little reason to recommend himself for the position of the duke’s son-in-law.
Ella’s grip on his arm tightened as he dipped her, then spun her back up and into his arms again.
“I’m glad to see you here,” she said quietly. “It’s nice to see a friendly face among a crowd of strangers.”
“Beatrice is here,” he pointed out.
“I know you better than I know Beatrice,” she said. And even though he had known Beatrice his whole life, he was inclined to agree that he knew Ella better than he knew Beatrice too.
At least his heart did, even if his head knew more of Beatrice.
It was perhaps the strangest feeling he’d ever felt. While he had only known Ella for a short time, he knew that he knew her in ways he would never know Beatrice.
But now, that knowledge felt like a curse.
“I’ve been hoping to dance with you all night,” Ella said, smiling up at him. “You are far easier to dance with than anyone else here.”
“That’s what happens when you teach someone to dance,” he teased. “You become used to dancing with them.”