Chapter 23 #2
The muses swapped confused looks, but Edmond didn’t linger long enough to let them protest. He offered me his arm and led us to an empty corner of the ballroom.
He paused, holding me at arm’s length to take in my costume.
As soon as his eyes trailed up to my face, his mouth spread into a grin.
A pleasant heat spread through my body at the sight of it.
“Well?” I asked, swishing my skirt. “I’m supposed to be the sun. What do you think?”
He swallowed and rubbed his jaw, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s um—I mean, you look very—” He sucked in a breath, and his hands fell limply to his sides. “Blast it. Helena, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
I blushed, not expecting such sincerity. “T-thank you.”
We stood there, neither of us saying anything as the colorful room swirled around us. But the ever-growing heat on my cheeks was unbearable, so I smoothed my golden skirt and asked, “What is your costume?”
“You can’t tell?”
I studied the crescent-shape of his silver mask, then laughed. “Don’t tell me that you’re the moon. Is that a coincidence?”
“Perhaps it’s fate.” Edmond held out his hand. “Will you dance with me, Helena?”
I accepted Edmond’s hand, letting him lead me out onto the dance floor as the quartet began playing. I gave Mrs. Sweete a nod as she stood off to the side to keep watch on both me and Sybella.
“Have you memorized this dance?” I whispered. “The minuet is quite old-fashioned, so it’s not done often.”
He put one hand behind his back and held the other up to mine. “I reviewed the steps last night.”
“So you’ve mastered it.”
He gave me a sly grin. “Let’s find out.”
We began the dance, and it was quite clear that Edmond had indeed mastered the minuet. His movements were graceful, and I found myself enjoying the dance very much despite the gnawing pressure reminding me that I had to turn a minuet into a proposal before the end of the night.
However, as we danced, I realized something was off about Edmond. He had checked his pocket watch not once but twice, and the energy of his movements didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Wonderful.”
I frowned. “I may not have Mrs. Sweete’s gift, but I know you well enough to know you’re not being entirely truthful with me.”
His smile looked tight. “It’s no matter, really. Just a small hiccup that will be resolved before the end of the night.”
“Edmond, you can trust me.”
He pulled me close, ignoring the dance moves as he held my hands tenderly in his own. “I trust you, Helena. I promise that after tonight, there will be no more shadows between us. It’s a small inconvenience. I’ll clean it up and then tell you everything. You have my word.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
His gaze traveled over my face, lingering for a moment too long on my lips to be considered proper. “I have a question for you, Helena.”
A pleasant shiver coursed through my whole body. “You do?”
His fingers laced through mine, and he held them against his chest. “Can we speak? Alone, that is.”
The music stopped, and my heartbeat ceased right along with it. There was only one question a gentleman would ask a lady alone. At least, only one good question. And something told me this was a very, very good question.
“Of course. Um, shall we speak now—” I paused, hearing the music begin for the next dance, then flung my palm to my forehead. “Curse it all. I have to dance with the baron first.”
Edmond’s brow wrinkled. “The baron?”
“I promised Lord Cranford the next dance.” I gave Edmond a pleading look. “There’s something I have to do too. Will you wait for me?”
“I’ve waited a long time for you, Helena.” He released my hand. “I can wait a little longer.”
I tilted my head. We had known each other for only two months. But I supposed that time had felt unusually long. Perhaps he’d been fighting against his feelings all along too.
All of a sudden, my heart felt too large, straining against my ribs with an ache that was both thrilling and agonizing.
This is it, I thought. Edmond would propose tonight.
Not only would I secure my estate, I would ensure my own happiness.
Just the thought of it made me want to throw my hands up and spin around like I used to when I was a little girl.
“Lord Cranford,” Edmond said as the baron stepped up to claim his dance, “take care of her for me, would you?”
The baron glanced between us, his mouth deepening into a slight frown. “Of course. You needn’t ask.”
Edmond nodded to the baron, then disappeared into the crowd. Once again, I felt like something unspoken had passed between them.
Lord Cranford held out his hand. “Are you ready?”
The pleasant warmth I had felt moments earlier fled at the cold realization of what I had to do next.
“I’m ready,” I said.
We began the dance in silence, as if neither of us knew how to begin the conversation. His movements were a bit awkward as he navigated the waltz without his cane. I caught a few glimpses of Mrs. Sweete urging me with her eyes to get it over with.
“You look well tonight, Miss Weston,” Lord Cranford said at last. “In fact, your dress is the exact same shade of gold as the Charidotella sexpunctata.”
“Thank you,” was all my dry tongue could manage. I had turned down eight proposals before, so why was I so skittish about this one?
You know why, I told myself. Unlike the other men, I actually cared for Lord Cranford. Not romantically, but as a friend. He was a good man, and I did not wish to see him hurt.
“I admit I have an ulterior motive for asking you to dance,” Lord Cranford said as we completed an uneven box step. “I do not wish to hurry you for an answer. But I did want to make myself available in case you had any concerns I could address that might help you decide.”
“You have been more than generous with your patience, Lord Cranford. And I—I have abused it. For that, I am sorry.”
This apology came easily. I wondered what that meant.
“You do not have to apologize to me, Miss Weston.”
“Believe me, I do.” I drew in a long breath. “There is something I must say to you, and I find it hard to voice.”
He stopped dancing. “Have you decided then?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but a man in all black stepped between the baron and me.
“F-father?” I stammered. “What are you doing here?”
Father placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on Lord Cranford. “Is it done, then? Are congratulations in order?”
The baron and I swapped awkward looks.
“Actually,” I said, “I was just about to—”
“Accept?” Father clapped victoriously. “Splendid. Glad that’s done.” He shoved his hand into Lord Cranford’s for a hearty shake. “Welcome to the family, Cranford. Or should I call you John?”
The baron stiffened. “Lord Highcliffe, your daughter hasn’t yet given me her answer.”
“Nonsense,” Father spewed. “She accepts, you accept, I accept. Let’s all move on, shall we?” He smiled widely, his breath reeking of champagne. “Now, about the money you promised…”
“Father, please. Let’s talk privately.”
He waved me away. “What’s done is done, Helena. In fact…” He cleared his throat and raised his voice over the orchestra. “Pardon me!” he shouted. “If I could borrow everyone’s attention for a moment!”
“Father,” I hissed. “What are you doing?”
But he ignored me as the orchestra silenced and the dancing stopped.
I grabbed my father’s arm. “Stop this at once!”
“Lord Highcliffe,” the baron said. “Perhaps we could discuss this before—”
“I have an announcement to make!” Father bellowed to the crowd.
“Father! Don’t.” I wished more than anything to grab him and pull him out of the room. But all eyes were on us, and I couldn’t very well drag a grown man out of a crowded ballroom.
“My cherished daughter, Helena Weston,” he proclaimed, opening his arms out wide for effect, “is officially engaged to Lord John St. Clair, Baron of Cranford!”
It was like the floor fell out from beneath me. I’m sure I would have stumbled to the ground had it not been for the steadying hand that appeared beneath my elbow. Mrs. Sweete bolstered me up, keeping me from collapsing under the deafening applause.
“Breathe, Miss Weston,” she said into my ear. “Breathe.”
I tried, but the breaths came in ragged and sharp—and ceased entirely when I looked up toward the back of the room where Edmond stood.
He was frozen, stiff as stone. He had removed his mask, and his gaze was locked onto mine, the unmistakable flare of betrayal burning behind it.
For a moment, he looked as if he might step forward to protest. How I wished he would.
But just as quickly, he stopped, and his shoulders fell, the weight of Father’s words crushing him where he stood.
A heartbeat later, he turned and disappeared down the hall.
And all of my hope fled with him.