Once Upon a Romance 01 - Before the Midnight Bells (6 page)

The ballroom was aglow with hundreds of candles, their flames dancing in the
polished crystal holders. Light shone off of the gilt carvings that framed each door and window, all of which were thrown open to allow the ball-goers access to the rooms and gardens beyond the ballroom. Tables groaning with food were placed around the room, and Ella could see more set up in nearby rooms, all laden with golden platters from which heavenly scents emerged. On the far wall an orchestra played in their balcony, and below them the marble floor of the ballroom was filled with dancers, swirling about in their Paupers’ finery. Above the dancers hung a giant chandelier, glittering brightly on the beautiful scene.

Millicent was the first to recover herself. “Come girls, let’s see if we can push our way through the throng, and find partners for the next dance.” Prudence and Beatrice eagerly agreed, but Ella demurred.

“
I’ll join you in a bit, Stepmother, I’m going to
visit the edibles
first.”

“
Ella.” Millicent gave her a stern look, “it is simply not the done thing. You must find a dance partner and ask him to fetch you a plate after you’ve taken a turn with him on the floor.”

Ella was too tired and hungry to get angry. “Stepmother, I have worked myself to the bone preparing for this ball. If I don’t eat something first I will not make it through a turn on the floor. You
must
excuse me.”

Millicent frowned, but said nothing further, and Ella took the moment to escape. She didn’t really want to dance, it was just an elaborate ritual for flirting, but she hadn’t been lying to her stepmother. Her schedule over the past week had forced her to skip several meals, and the day before she hadn’t eaten at all. If she was going to stay on her feet for the rest of this ball she was going to have to eat something. Maybe a number of somethings. Casting about, she spotted a table that was not being swarmed with guests, probably because it was tucked in a side room far from the dancing. Perfect. She wouldn’t have to elbow anyone out of the way while she was stuffing herself.

When she reached the table Ella was overwhelmed at the variety arrayed before her. She set her sewing basket of matches to one side and began to survey her options, but somewhere between the roasted squab in rose petal sauce and the whole grilled kid goat, she gave up attempting to pick what she wanted to eat and just started trying everything. She was reaching towards a particularly flaky-looking puff pastry when she heard a low, masculine chuckle off to her right.

“
Unhand that cream puff, you urchin. I have set my sights on it and I will not be denied.”

Ella froze, hand hovering over the pastry, and raised her eyes to the man standing on the other side of the banquet table. A broad grin adorned his handsome face, and the twinkle in his eyes as he waited for her reply sparked something in her. She cast a quick glance at his costume—an assortment of rags—and replied saucily, “But beggars can’t be choosers.”
Snatching up the treat, she
went on, “Particularly not when the urchin gets there first.”
W
ith that she flashed him a grin of her own, and stuffed the
cream puff in her mouth.

The man laughed, and helped himself to a
chocolate-laced puff
. “I thought I would have sole claim to everything in such an out of the way spot.”

Ella gave a shrug. “I was hungry, and I didn’t want to wade through the masses. It seems all the other ladies out there are either
hunting husbands
for themselves or chaperoning someone who is.”

“
And you are neither hunting nor chaperoning?”

“
I find my desire for a husband vastly outweighed by my desire for puff pastry.”

Her companion laughed, and gave a little bow of his head, as though acknowledging a point.

“
And why might you be here, with so many ladies in need of partners for the waltz?”

“
I am hiding.” This was said somewhat grimly, and Ella fancied she knew why. He was young, and the rags that made up his costume were obviously cut from the finest silk, displaying a wealth that most of the folk attending the ball only dreamed about. More than that, he was handsome. Not tall, perhaps, but
possessed of blue eyes and a wicked smile that made even Ella’s heart skip a beat. She could only imagine what it would do to a girl in a more receptive frame of mind. His body looked neat and trim beneath the layers of silk “rags”, and his fine mop of curly hair was thick and dark.
He would have been a prime catch for any of the young ladies rabidly circling the dance floor, and keeping in the semi-shadows in an empty room must have been one of the few ways to avoid their notice and the subsequent inevitable p
u
rs
uit
. She did wonder, for a moment at least, why he had attended the ball if he wanted so little to be seen, but she dismissed the thought almost immediately. After all, women were not the only ones to be pressured into things.

“
Well,” she replied, a gay tone in her voice, “you are certainly safe with me. I intend to spend most of the evening right here, hunting for nothing more lasting than the perfect apple tart.”

Max laughed along with the woman standing before him. She clearly had no idea who he was, and had totally misunderstood his need to hide, but that hardly mattered.

“
Tell me, little matchgirl, do you always stuff yourself silly, or do you save it for special occasions?”

His companion looked at him gravely. “Sir, I have not yet
begun
to stuff myself.” A smile replaced her sober look, and he beamed back at her. There was only one question left to ask.

“
Which end of the table shall we start with?”

“
The one with the chocolate, obviously.”

***

Prudence was in an agony of indecision. Beatrice had taken to the floor three times already with different men, but every time a man approached Prudence she had ducked behind another girl and given him the slip. One had been too short—imagine dancing with a young man who spent the whole set staring at her chin! Another had been too red-headed—after all, a red-headed man might give her a red-headed daughter, and imagine that hair next to pink silk! She had avoided a third because he was too fat, a fourth because he was too mournful looking, and a fifth because she had seen his previous partner, and didn’t think much of his standards.

But then! Then she had seen
him
. He was a nice height, not too plump, and had hair of a beautiful dark gold that would go excellently well with pink silk. His eyes looked cheerful as he danced, and all of his partners thus far had looked like lovely girls. In fact, the only problem with him, as far as Prudence could see, was that he seemed to have no intention of asking her to dance. Of course, she could go ask him herself, but that would be bold, terribly bold, and Prudence was not entirely sure that she had it in her to
be
that bold, no matter how excellently suited to pink silk a gentleman’s hair might be.

So she adopted a strategy. Every time the golden-haired man led his partner off the floor Prudence would quickly make her way around the circle of observers, placing herself so that his eye would
have
to fall on her, and then she would stand, eyes demurely downcast, waiting for him to notice her modest perfection.

So far it wasn’t working.

In fact, she wasn’t even really sure he had
seen
her, even though last time he had changed partners she had been standing directly next to the girl he had engaged to dance. There were just too many women, all vying for attention, to be assured of catching his eye. Well, if she couldn’t catch his eye, perhaps she could force him to catch
her.
It would be easy to fake a fall in the press of dancers, and any gentleman worth his salt would feel honor bound to assist her. Just a little trip would soon see her in his arms, if not on the dance floor.

***

Max was having a wonderful time. His companion seemed to have no other goal to the evening than entertaining herself, and was perfectly willing to entertain him if he wanted to stick around for the duration.

“
Now what on
earth
is that?” Her question was both amused and disgusted.

“
I’m not a chef, but I’m fairly certain it’s a rice ball.” He smirked at her.

“
Daft man, I meant the thing
in
the rice ball.”

“
Oh,
that
.” She looked at him with mock ferocity, but he just smiled. “That’s a quail egg.”

“
It’s
raw.
”

“
I’ve been told they’re quite delicious.” She looked at him skeptically. “Of course, only a truly adventurous soul would dare to try it and find out.”

She grinned at the challenge implicit in his tone. “A gourmand daredevil, if you will.”

“
I will if you will.”

Almost simultaneously they reached for a rice ball.

“
On the count of three?” If she was nervous at all her voice didn’t show it.

“
Agreed.” Max was hoping this wasn’t going to be too bad.

Together they counted, “One…two…three…” and then stuck the balls in their mouths. The matchgirl clapped her hand over her mouth, but bravely chewed and swallowed. Max felt his eyes cross, but managed to do the same. For a moment neither spoke, then Max cleared his throat.

“
It wouldn’t have been so bad…”

“
…except for the caviar hidden under the egg.” She shuddered dramatically.

“
That was like…”