Chapter 24 #2
Christabella pouted. “But Gigi...” She sighed dejectedly, then her face lit up when she spotted Maddox.
She ran to him and took his hands as she had taken mine. “Maddox, dance with me!”
His eyebrows shot up, his gaze darting to me. “I—uh—don’t know this dance.”
“I’ll teach you! It’s really simple, just follow my lead!
” Christabella dragged Maddox into the square with the other dancers around the fountain.
The instrumental quartet began playing the jaunty, upbeat tune of the Harvest song.
Chrissy was as enthusiastic a dancer as ever, her arms raised the highest and her feet stamping the loudest as she bounded in circles with everyone else in beat to the music.
Maddox followed with admirable effort, though somewhat clumsily.
I smiled as I watched them, their joy contagious.
A smooth voice drew my attention away. “Giselle. I was wondering when you were going to come.”
Edmund appeared beside me, leaning against the table behind us that held dishes of roasted vegetables and a bowl of ruby-colored punch. I quickly searched his face for any wart jinxes unbeknownst to him. His pale skin was clear. Thank goodness.
“I was here for a while,” I admitted. “I just wanted to keep an eye on you on the sidelines.”
“Like a chaperone in a ballroom?” he asked with a laugh.
I waved a hand awkwardly. “Nothing like that.” I was no hawk-eyed mama ready to swoop down on any prospective suitor—not that he was in any danger here. Human men had notorious reputations. Any witch girl who showed interest would no doubt be gossiped about ruthlessly, just like Seraphina Barclay.
We looked on, watching the witchlights reflect off the fountain like drops of sparkling stars, the music lively and bright. I spotted Beatrice in the midst, being spun around by her youngest daughter, Elowyn.
“I’m enjoying myself,” Edmund said after a moment. “It’s nice being part of a gathering like this.”
I exhaled, relieved he wasn’t having a terrible time, then stole a curious look at him. “Don’t you attend plenty of gatherings like this? Banquets and balls and the sort?”
Edmund was no noble, but surely he was rich enough to receive invitations to the various events of high society.
“Less than you think,” Edmund said with a laugh. “Sometimes I join my father on business dinners but even then, the circumstances of my birth get in the way of enjoyment.” His smile turned sad at the corners.
I felt a spike of indignation for him. “The circumstances of your birth aren’t your fault.” If anything, it should’ve reflected badly on Mr. de Clare, but I kept that thought to myself.
Edmund shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it. But thank you, Giselle, for treating me like I’m not lesser than.”
Treat Edmund de Clare as lesser than? I almost laughed. “I hardly have the accolades to treat anyone like they’re lesser than.”
“You underestimate yourself,” Edmund said warmly. The multi-colored witchlights flickered in his blue eyes like an aurora borealis. “I don’t think I’ve ever known a lady so accomplished.”
My breath caught. I didn’t know what to say, afraid a simple thank you would seem too self-important.
“Do you dance?” I blurted out.
“Occasionally. The last time had been with my—” He paused and shook his head with a laugh, his dark waves bouncing. “Never mind.” He offered his hand. “Would you like to dance with me?”
I met his earnest gaze and blushed. Never in my life did I think a gentleman like Edmund would ask me to dance, as if I were a delicate society flower.
I was too rough in my manners, too cynical, too willing to turn everything into a joke.
I wasn’t sweet and pretty like Christabella.
Yet here Edmund was, his hand still outstretched, smiling at me like we were in the sparkling ballroom of a romance novel.
Slowly, I put my hand in his. His palm was large and smooth, and he gently set his other hand on my waist. Heat bloomed from the contact, spreading until I was engulfed in pleasant warmth. He guided me forward, to the left, then back.
“What dance is this?” I whispered, not wanting to break the fragile moment.
Edmund smiled. “The waltz.”
The waltz. In Witch Village. I almost laughed. “You don’t want to do the Harvest dance?”
He glanced at the others around the fountain, jumping and spinning to the lively song. “I don’t know. I think I might tear a seam.”
“I’ll mend it,” I said quickly.
Edmund pulled me closer. “You do enough.”
***
WHEN THE MUSIC STOPPED, I felt starry-eyed and cloud-footed. This must’ve been what the moon felt like floating in the evening sky.
“Giselle, did you bring the flatbread?” Ma’s reedy voice broke me from my daze, sharp and staccato. I blinked and turned. She was walking toward me, her mouth set in a thin line and her brows furrowed.
“What flatbread? You told me to get the pies,” I said.
“They’re on the counter,” Ma continued as if I hadn’t said anything at all. “In the covered basket.”
I resisted the urge to groan. She had only told me to grab the pies this morning, not the flatbread, and now I had to hike all the way back up to the house.
“I need to keep an eye on Edmund,” I said.
“I’ll keep an eye on him. It’s better if you stay away from that human,” Ma said. “He’s untrustworthy.”
I sputtered. Edmund was mere paces away, helping himself to a glass of punch.
I sincerely hoped he hadn’t heard her. Or if he had, that he wouldn’t take offense.
“Everyone else seems to like him enough,” I argued in a whisper.
“You introduced him to everyone. How can you say he’s untrustworthy?
Do you think he’s going to destroy the village? ”
“Not the village, Giselle,” Ma said. “You. Your reputation.”
“Don’t act like you care about me,” I said, unable to hold this back. “Why does it matter if I associate with Edmund in public? You think I embarrass this family anyway. ”
Ma pinched her brows—the same expression she’d worn during our confrontation on the stairs. This time, without tears to blur my vision, she really did look stricken. “I do care, Giselle,” she said.
“I don’t like your way of caring,” I snapped, and stormed away from the square.