Chapter 11
Eleven
Jade returned to the nobleman awaiting her hand, clearing her mind of thoughts of Nicolas. Whoever he was, whatever he had done to have such an effect on her, he was no longer important. She had to refocus on her mission.
And here stood a perfect opportunity directly before her.
Taking in the young man’s visage—pale green eyes in a pale, freckled face with a shock of fiery red hair—Jade determined he was Lord Harrison of Remcourt, the oldest son of Lord Harold, Earl of Remcourt, a cousin to the king and to Grannam.
She’d already spotted Harrison’s brother and sister, Simon and Cecile, so she assumed the whole Remcourt family must be in attendance.
It wasn’t much of an in with the royal family, but she would take it.
Jade accepted the man’s hand, and they took their places among the dancers.
She peered around him as they waited for the music to begin, hoping to spot a dark head of hair or a pointed gold mask.
She chided herself as she realized she was searching for Nicolas, not Arabella or Grannam, and again attempted to set her mind straight.
She dove into the dance with Harrison, immediately finding him both a less graceful dancer than Nicolas and not as good at carrying on a conversation.
He pushed her around the dance floor somewhat gruffly, nearly causing Jade to trip over his feet more than once.
With his introduction, Jade gawked and responded in feigned awe.
“You’re a member of the royal family, aren’t you?” She laughed through a small smile. “I’m dancing with a true royal.”
Harrison seemed pleased with her wonder, puffing out his chest as they danced. “Why yes, you are. I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss . . . ”
“Lady Elena Tavigne.”
Harrison’s eyebrows crinkled, and then one raised in an incredulous stare. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you. Have you been here before?”
A charmer Harrison of Remcourt was not.
They carried on in vapid conversation, with Harrison making at least two statements referencing his royal lineage, in case Jade—or rather, Elena—had forgotten. At the end of the dance, Jade bowed to Harrison, and he waited before her expectantly.
“Shall we go again?”
Jade had spent too much time on the dance floor. Not only did she have to go mingle with royalty for the sake of her mission, she was also weary from three dances in a row.
“I think I must step away for a moment and rest.” She offered him an apologetic smile but maintained a note of eagerness in her voice. “But I’d enjoy a chat instead. Perhaps with some lemonade?”
Harrison dipped his head. “An excellent idea. Let me escort you to the rest of my party, and then I’ll obtain some refreshments for both of us.”
He wound his way through rustling skirts and pockets of conversation before approaching a group of three who had reunited after coming off the dance floor.
Jade immediately recognized Simon and Cecile, after having already spotted them, but she couldn’t place the man whose arm Cecile had linked hers through. Not a royal.
Cecile spoke to Simon as Jade and Harrison joined them, her melodic, high-pitched voice floating in the air. “Who was that you danced with, Brother? She was lovely.”
At that moment, they noticed the arrival of their brother and his guest, and Simon closed his open mouth before deciding to answer quickly, “Lady Olivie Maison.” His head briefly flung over his shoulder. “She’s dancing with Jameson now.”
Cecile’s jaw dropped and her eyebrows furrowed for no more than a moment, apparently realizing their company now included an unfamiliar newcomer.
She fixed her face into a neutral expression, tipping up her chin before sweetly replying, “Some women only care about title and bloodline.” Cecile’s gaze fell pointedly on Jade.
“Well, hello. I don’t believe we’ve met. ”
Jade politely smiled at the group all around as Harrison introduced her—or attempted to.
“Lady Elena . . . ”
Jade spared him the embarrassment of struggling to remember her assumed last name. “Tavigne. Of Ellyris.”
“Yes, of Ellyris.” He cleared his throat before gesturing toward the others. “Lady Elena, my brother, Lord Simon of Remcourt, and our sister, Lady Cecile. And the gentleman beside her is Pyotr Zarkech, Baron of Kormarund.”
The siblings nodded at their respective introductions, but Pyotr took it upon himself to entirely bow his head. Cecile smacked his arm with the fingers of her hand looped through his elbow, and he straightened, innocent surprise filling his eyes.
“I have promised Lady Elena some refreshments, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll return in a moment.” Harrison offered Jade a small smile before turning on his heel and leaving the group.
A prolonged silence settled over the group with the addition of the newcomer. Jade set her face in an expression that was curious and awed, if not somewhat shy, her gaze flitting among the faces of those around her and again to the vibrant ballroom.
Cecile cleared her throat after a while and turned her focus to Jade, a tight smile across her lips.
While Cecile was younger than Jade, she was several inches taller, so her gaze down at Jade gave an extra appearance of condescension.
Jade smiled back up in perceived innocence, already prepared for such treatment from the elitist royal family.
“So, Ellyris? What’s that like?” Cecile asked in what seemed like an attempt to make pleasant conversation, but Jade didn’t miss the boredom in her eyes.
“Quite beautiful.” Jade beamed as she acted wistful, thinking about a region that was supposed to be her home. “But I don’t get out much. Now that I’ve debuted, I’m hoping to traverse many different parts of the kingdom.”
Cecile’s eyes widened briefly in genuine shock. “How adventurous. I can’t say I’m much for travel myself. Just the trip here from Dowfurth was horrid.”
Jade resisted the urge to laugh. Cecile’s home, Dowfurth, was still within their current region of Tourrine but on the opposite side. She prepared a comment in reply, but she never had the chance to speak as Pyotr chimed in, Cecile’s arm still looped through his.
“Oh, come now, Cecile, if you can’t stand the distance between here and your home, you’ll never come to visit me at Kormarund.”
“Which is precisely why you will be coming to me.”
Pyotr scoffed, and Cecile shot him a glare, but two people came up beside them and their expressions transformed, their scowls replaced with welcoming smiles.
Jade followed their line of sight, turning her gaze upon the newcomers and withholding a gasp, making sure it was noticeable enough for the others to hear her apparent awe.
The two ladies who had joined them were Lord Grannam’s daughter, Lady Marguerite, and Lady Arabella’s sister, Lady Alanna.
Jade allowed herself to school her expression visibly, as a debutante might when in the company of such members of the royal family. She kept quiet in her place in the circle, deferring to the ladies’ cousins to speak first.
“Well, if it isn’t the guest of honor!” Simon said with a grin. “Happy birthday, Marguerite.”
Marguerite smiled in thanks, her cheeks flushed pink from dancing and her arm looped through Alanna’s.
Her black feathered mask hung limply around her wrist, and pieces of light brown hair had come free from her intricate updo and stuck out at odd angles.
She was no picture of refinement, and neither was Alanna, who was in a similar state and maskless.
A true smile quirked Jade’s lips as she considered how easily these women had let go of their prim and proper exterior for the sake of having fun.
“Thank you, Simon,” Marguerite replied with a giggle, coming fully into the circle with Alanna.
“We’ve been dancing up a storm and just wanted to take a break to socialize for a moment.
How are you liking the party?” Marguerite’s eyes flashed to each member of the group in turn.
When they landed on Jade, her eyebrows crinkled, and without waiting for a response to her question, she said, “I don’t believe we’ve met. ”
Jade sent herself into a shocked stupor, her mouth agape as she dropped her head and dipped into a curtsy.
“Er, no, ma’am—I mean, my lady. I don’t.
Or, that is to say, we haven’t.” Her goal was for the flustered act to be beguiling, sweet, endearing.
She was, after all, an uninvited guest, and Marguerite had every right to throw her out on the spot.
“My name is Lady Elena Tavigne, my lady.”
Marguerite sucked in a breath as if to speak again, but Harrison returned and handed a glass of lemonade to Jade. “Ah, Cousin! Happy birthday!” He raised his glass toward Marguerite.
“Yes! A toast!” Simon turned from the group, finding the nearest footman and waving him down.
“Oh, Simon.” Marguerite feigned a protest, waving her free hand through the air.
“Yes, a special birthday toast,” Alanna agreed as Simon returned with an entire tray of bubbly drinks. He passed out the beverages and handed the tray back to the footman.
“To our beloved cousin, Marguerite,” Simon began with half a bow in her direction. “Wishing you long life, love, and prosperity. Happy birthday!”
A chorus of “Happy birthday” resounded and glasses were tipped back, but before Cecile brought her glass to her lips, she added, “May you become a proper princess!”
Harrison nearly choked on his lemonade, Simon brought his glass down with a glare and “Cecile,” and Pyotr curved his shoulders and angled his head toward her. Only Marguerite and Alanna appeared unperturbed.
“Oh, quiet now,” Marguerite said with a roll of her eyes. “You all know I’m behind Arabella in this. I no more want to see my father become king than I want to see this party come to an end.”