If This Were a Festival
“Or you will scream?” Hugh answers Lucas, chuckling. But his grip relaxes, and I squirm away. Unfortunately, Lucas is blocking the entrance to the alcove, and I bump against him. I make myself as small as possible, which is difficult in all these ruffles.
“Mother approves, you know,” Hugh says with a smile. He directs it at Lucas, but I reply.
“You aren’t trying to kiss her .” I scrub at my cheek again, trying to get rid of the clammy memory of his lips.
At my side, Lucas speaks with a voice like ice. “You need the approval of Miss Flanders, not of Mother, if you want to—” He breaks off with a cough. I think he looks at me, but as I am busily not looking at him, I can only guess at his expression. “You should mingle, Hugh.”
“Always with the mingling,” Hugh grumbles. “Can’t let me have any fun.” He leans against the wall, and when he catches my gaze, he winks. “Well, shall we be back to dancing, then?”
Dancing! As if he hadn’t just tried to kiss me against my will! “No, thank you.” I make my tone as impolite as possible .
He surveys me for a moment, mischief lurking in his eyes.
“Perhaps you could fetch the lady a drink,” Lucas suggests. Well, not so much suggests as commands . I shiver a bit at the authority in his tone, but Hugh is not cowed.
“Certainly, certainly.” He winks at me again and sidles past. “We can resume our … discussion … when I return.”
After he’s pushed his way past Lucas, I turn slowly, folding my arms across my chest. “If you’re going to scold me, you can save your breath.”
When I finally work up the courage to meet his gaze, his forehead is furrowed behind his thin mask. “Scold you?”
“I know I shouldn’t have come—this isn’t a place for me—I wasn’t going to, and I let him talk me into it, because—” I bite my lip and look at the ground, ashamed.
“You do not think I blame you, Miss Flanders?”
“Isn’t this my fault?”
Lucas’ eyebrows raise. “You are not responsible for my brother.” He sighs. “I should have known he was up to some mischief. I’m sorry for the way he’s treated you.”
“But I shouldn’t be here,” I insist. I feel so guilty, and I want to wallow in my condemnation. “I shouldn’t have come at all!”
“How did you come to be here?”
“You mean, at this ball? Or in this corner?”
Lucas reddens a bit. “I saw how you got to the corner.”
“We should probably leave it,” I say, matching his blush. “And as for how I came to the ball—” I explain Hugh’s note, and how he sent me the dress, as we creep out of the alcove.
Lucas’ eyes flick to the gown. “I wondered where you came up with that.”
“Hideous, isn’t it?”
“I was going to say bright .” He holds out an arm to me. “Would you care for some fresh air, Miss Flanders?”
I accept his arm gladly, letting him guide me through the stuffy ballroom. Was it this stuffy before, or does it only feel so now because I’m walking so close to him? Somehow, Lucas lending me his arm through a teeming crowd is more intimate than Hugh trying to kiss me in the dark. He wends his way to a tall glass door which opens onto a stone veranda. The air out here is brisk, refreshing on my flushed cheeks, and carries a faint scent of evergreens; there must be some fragrant hedge out in the gardens. We wander over to the rail, and he doesn’t withdraw his arm. It’s cold enough that we’re the only people out here right now, though the noise of the ball floats through the doorway behind us.
I should move away, but I can’t make myself do it. “I really am sorry for coming. I know I promised you I’d stay away from Hugh, and—”
“You have no need to apologize to me,” he says, and his eyes are so gentle that I feel quite sentimental, until he keeps talking. “You would not be the first woman to succumb to Hugh’s charms.”
“Succumb! I’ve done no such thing!”
His lips, which I am not looking at, quirk into a tiny smile, but he gazes absently into the dark gardens. “Did you know I once courted a woman?”
I clear my throat and let my hand slip from his arm. I tug at the strings of my mask and let it fall away. “No.”
“It was years ago,” Lucas says. “I thought I would marry her.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He finally looks at me. “I saw her kissing Hugh at a ball one night. Enthusiastically.”
“Oh.” I almost say that I wasn’t kissing Hugh at all, let alone enthusiastically, but then again, he’s not courting me. Instead, I blurt, “What is your costume?”
“Will you be very shocked if I confess that these are just my regular clothes?”
“Quite. That’s no fun at all.”
“And may I ask what you are?”
“A fox to Hugh’s huntsman,” I grumble. “And I’ve never felt more repulsive.”
“You could never be repulsive, Miss Flanders. ”
I blush. Lucas is not supposed to give me compliments. He continues, “Though the gown is indeed … unique.”
The cold air raises goosebumps on my bare arms. I shiver. Lucas notices, and immediately apologizes, holding out his arm again to lead me back into the ballroom. I hesitate.
“It’s time for me to leave, I think.” I’ve lost track of time. Will Mistress Mungon be fidgety about her curfew this evening, since she knows where I am? I’d prefer not to risk it.
“Whatever you wish,” he replies. He glances toward the far side of the balcony. “I could lead you through the gardens, but it would be warmer to go through the ballroom.”
I grimace, my desire for warmth warring with my desire to not be caught by Hugh again. “I’d rather not go back in if I can help it. But I can find my own way—”
“Nonsense,” he interrupts. He slips out of his jacket and leans closer. “May I?”
I want to protest, but I am so cold, so I allow Lucas to drape his jacket over my shoulders. His hands slide down my arms gently before he steps back. I’m warmer immediately, though I’m not certain the coat can take all the credit. It has a faintly spicy smell, and I take a deep breath.
Lucas offers his arm, tucking me close to him as he leads me down the balcony steps and through the dark garden paths. I wish it were the season for flowers; I’m sure Lady Hitchingford’s garden is full of varieties I’ve never seen before. Maybe next spring Mum and I can weasel our way back in to see them together.
Above us, stars twinkle in a clear sky, and I look up appreciatively. Lucas follows my gaze, and we pause for a moment to take in the expanse.
“It reminds me of home,” I finally offer. “My dad and I used to sit and stare at the stars on a clear night like this.”
“You must miss your family.” Lucas notices how I’m shivering again, and gently tugs me forward.
“Of course. But … ”
“But?” Lucas prompts.
“I thought I’d be more homesick than I am,” I finally say. “Is that very terrible?”
“Perhaps it means you’ve found your place here.”
My place . I swallow, feeling Lucas’ jacket around me and his warmth at my side. I fear that I am very far from my proper place.
My teeth are chattering when we finally round the front of the house, and I stop short, beginning to shrug out of his coat so I can begin my walk home.
“Miss Flanders,” Lucas says, a long-suffering note in his voice, “If you still think I am going to allow you to walk in the dark—” He tugs me toward the doors. “We can wait inside while I call a carriage for you.”
“I don’t need—” I begin out of habit, but Lucas sighs in a somehow princely way, and I submit to him. He leads me up the grand front staircase, and a servant, surprised, opens the door for us. I flush suddenly, wondering what sort of gossip he’ll circulate about the prince and the girl dressed like a feathery pumpkin, sneaking around in the dark.
I walk into the entrance hall and rub my arms while he stops to give some instructions to the servant. “I told him to fetch our carriage,” he informs me as the servant scurries away.
“Won’t you need that?”
“Not for hours yet, I’m afraid. My family will not notice a brief absence.”
“That would put me in your debt,” I say.
“Must we do this every time?” Lucas murmurs.
I catch my breath at the way he says we . “It’s a hard habit to break.” I curl my fingers into fists, wishing I could make him understand. It’s as if bargains are in my very nature.
“Hugh brought you, so he owes you the ride home,” Lucas finally says. “Will that satisfy?”
“I—I suppose so.” I wish I could ask why he’s so understanding. Even Chemmy thinks I should just get over it, stop thinking about the bargaining, just change , as if it’s that simple. But I’m suddenly too shy to ask—or perhaps I just don’t want to hear his answer.
I offer him his jacket back, missing the warmth and the comforting scent as soon as I’ve taken it off. I expect him to bow and leave, but he doesn’t. “I’m not going to run down the drive by myself,” I say. “You can return to your party without worrying about me.”
“Wouldn’t you?” His eyes twinkle behind the mask. “I know you can lie.”
I reward him with a sniff.
We can hear the music from the ballroom from here, and my toes start tapping when I recognize the jig.
“You know this dance?” Lucas asks. I hadn’t meant for him to notice.
“Yes,” I answer. “It’s a Ramsfeldshire favorite.”
He bows and offers his hands. “Then may I have the pleasure?”
My heart is in my throat, and I take his hands, breathless already. His grip is firm, yet gentle, and we twirl and hop, spin and stomp for a few minutes until my nervousness melts away and I’m laughing at him. It ends sooner than I wish, since we’d started in the middle of the music.
He gives me a final spin and looks down at me. “May I ask what is so funny?”
“You look ridiculous hopping like that,” I say, surprising a laugh out of him. He surveys my outfit pointedly.
“Do I indeed?”
“Oh, I’ve already called myself ridiculous enough times,” I say cheerfully. “It’s nice to have company at last.”
The musicians have switched to a slow, sweet melody, and Lucas holds out a hand again. I wonder what’s delaying the carriage, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. “I think this dance is more sophisticated,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Perhaps I shall perform in a less ridiculous manner.”
My fingers twitch, eager, but I hesitate. “I’m not sure I know this one. ”
“We can go slowly, if you like,” he offers. “But if you would rather not—”
“Promise not to laugh at me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He grasps one hand loosely and settles the other on my back as he leads me through the steps. He’s easy to follow, and it doesn’t take long to fall into rhythm together. The haunting strains floating from the ballroom stir an emotion I can’t quite name, and Lucas’ touch makes my heart pound faster. I hope he’ll attribute the flush on my face to the activity and not any silly emotion.
Do I imagine it, or does he tug me just a trifle closer as we go through the final few steps? I can smell the slight spice of his cologne again, and suddenly I wonder if he can smell me, too. I suppose my scent has more to do with sweat and cheese and smoky boardinghouse. It certainly won’t cause him to swoon.
The musicians land on their final chord, and we glide to a stop. Lucas’ hands slip off me, and he bows. “Thank you, Miss Flanders.”
“You may call me ridiculous if you like.” My voice is unusually high. “I’ll allow you to laugh at me after all.”
His lips quirk upward. “Ah, but you gave me nothing to laugh at.”
“I shall try harder in the future. I do love to make myself a laughingstock.”
He chuckles. “Ask Hugh for advice on dresses, then.”
I grin back, but we are interrupted by the servant’s demure cough. I step away from Lucas, wondering how long the servant’s been here and hoping I haven’t caused too much of a scene.
“Your carriage is here, miss,” he says. He’s holding my cloak and a basket. “Cold food,” he informs me as I take the cloak from him. “His Highness said you’d need a dinner, having to leave before the meal.”
“I can’t take that—”
Behind me, Lucas sighs. “ Guests are always served dinner.”
I hesitate only a moment more before accepting it from the servant. “Thank you.” His gaze softens a bit as he nods and returns to his post.
I turn back to Lucas to thank him, too, and my breath catches when I see his kind eyes, hands clasped loosely behind his back.
If this were a festival back in my village, I would stretch up on my tiptoes and press a kiss on his cheek without shame—but this is no country dance, and he’s no village boy. There is no future for me with Lucas. I have nothing to offer him, nothing to bargain with.
Biting my lip, I only curtsy and mumble a thanks before scurrying down to the carriage, and I don’t let myself look back.
LUCAS
I linger just long enough to watch Miss Flanders safely into the carriage, raising my hand in farewell. She doesn’t notice, and I force myself to look nonchalant in front of this footman. I can still feel her hand in mine, still hear her teasing laughter in my ear. If I were Hugh …
I stop the thought before it goes any further.
I rub a hand across my face, steeling myself to reenter the ballroom. I’ve been absent long enough, and I risk insulting my hostess. I’m glad I could be of service to Miss Flanders; I should like to be something of a benefactor to the poor girl. Perhaps there is—
“What! You didn’t even kiss her?” Hugh materializes from behind a statue.
“I—how long have you been hiding there?”
“Long enough to see you not kissing her!”
“Keep your voice down!” I look over my shoulder. The footman at the door studiously ignores us. “Why would I kiss Miss Flanders?”
Hugh stares at me. “Why would you kiss—” His eyes narrow in disbelief. “Are you stupid? ”
“I’m fond of you, too, brother dear,” I mutter, walking past him.
He keeps in step with me. “Really, Luke! Why on earth didn’t you kiss her? She clearly wanted you to!”
I stop abruptly, but don’t look at Hugh. “I hope I may be a benefactor to Miss Flanders. Anything else would be far beyond my line of responsibility.”
“Yes, yes, waltzing in seclusion is what all benefactors do.” Hugh steps in front of me, forcing me to meet his gaze. He scratches at his chest absently. “There’s no law saying you can’t court—”
“I am courting Princess Islabetta.” I step to the side, bypassing Hugh to continue down the muraled hall.
“You are not.” I can almost hear Hugh rolling his eyes. “You only wrote one very boring letter, and it said nothing of marriage. I doubt she thinks you are courting.”
I stop and turn to face Hugh. “Did you read my letter before I sent it?”
He snorts. “I didn’t have to. I know you.”
I’d like to say he’s wrong, but … well. My first letter—my only letter—was exactly as Hugh described. “I’m going to write to her again.”
“I pity the girl.” He takes a step closer to me, voice lowering. “Listen, Luke. I know you have your ideals, but I—I need you to do something for me.” He scratches his chest again.
I frown. Hugh doesn’t normally sound serious. “What is it?”
“You were supposed to say, ‘ Yes, anything for you. ’” Hugh shuffles his feet and coughs before continuing. “I need you to court Miss Smith. Actually court her, I mean.”
I stare. He holds my gaze defiantly. I keep expecting him to burst into a grin, slap me on the back, and say what a good joke he made, but he doesn’t. Finally, I say, “Whatever do you mean?”
“I need you to court Miss Smith!”
“Yes, you said that already! Why on earth—”
“I can’t explain,” Hugh interrupts. “Just—please, Luke. You know I don’t ask for favors often. ”
He doesn’t; that worries me. “If it’s some stupid bet you made, I can give you money—”
“I don’t need money! I need you to court Miss Smith !” Hugh presses his lips together, glancing around. I hope no one overheard his outburst.
“I’d do anything in my power for you,” I say. “That is out of my power, Hugh. I am sorry.” His blue eyes, normally sly and jovial, bore into me with anger. “I don’t understand. Why—”
A muscle in Hugh’s jaw jumps. “You don’t want to understand. You’re just as much a—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head and pushes past me. Over his shoulder, he tosses, “You’re just like Father.”
I stare at his retreating back. Should I follow him, force him to explain? Clearly, something’s come over him. I may be able to help.
Then again, I don’t want to. What he’s asking for must be wrong. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I won’t let Miss Flanders be a victim in it. And I won’t chase him down. If he wants to be mysterious and throw around childish insults, very well. I have responsibilities.
I march back to the ballroom in a sour mood and am very poor company for the rest of the night.