AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 17
The final days before the Regent’s party were a flurry of activity, of panic, and drama. It seemed that Aunt Margaret could find Marta in every nook and cranny of the house and pepper her with questions, demand that she come try a separate hairstyle or bit of make-up, anything to highlight her “glittering blue eyes,” or her “beautiful figure.” As the day of departure approached, Marta felt increasingly like a piece of cattle, a thing that had a use no greater than its physical form. She told this to Aunt Margaret only once, thinking that Aunt Margaret might accept the joke as fact and lighten up. In essence, however, Aunt Margaret didn’t seem to understand the joke at all and instead offered, “Cows do have the most beautiful eyes, as you do, don’t they?” At this, Ewan stifled a laugh.
Although things had been momentarily bizarre between Marta and Ewan—for reasons she wasn’t entirely clear on—things seemed patched by the time of the Regent’s party. This led to Ewan hustling into Marta’s bedroom almost continually while he prepared, asking her opinion about his various fashion choices, including how he styled his hair. Marta giggled throughout, his stomach spasming painfully. She’d never met anyone like Ewan and took unique pleasure in his ability to make anything just a little brighter, a little more playful. Yet again, she marvelled that he’d ever been such dear friends with Baldwin.
The fact that Baldwin would come with them to the party wasn’t announced to her until she and Ewan were safely tucked away in the carriage. Marta’s lips parted in confusion, and her heart jumped into her throat.
“Why does Baldwin wish to attend?” she asked. She attempted to keep her voice as even as possible, hopingto convince both herself and Ewan that she felt very little, close to nothing at all, for Baldwin. “I thought that he wasn’t entirely fond of these sorts of events.”
Ewan clucked his tongue. “He has found reason to care about this particular event, it seems.”
“I see.”
Marta and her Aunt Margaret had chosen a light pink gown: again cut low over her breasts, cinched tight at her waist, with a mighty gown that bounced out from her hips and danced across the ground. Ewan assisted Marta from the carriage towards the Regent’s ballroom. As they walked, Marta felt entirely on display. Other party-goers and revellers walked slowly alongside them, their eyes scanning her breasts, her bodice, and her fine shoulders and bouncing blonde curls. She knew, still, that she was something of a different specimen. The Austrian woman. The one who’d captured the fancy of the Duke himself.
As Ewan and Marta approached the main staircase, which led up from the garden and towards the glowing ballroom, a red-headed woman approached and veered towards them. Marta thought that perhaps she recognised her from a previous party. Moments before she nabbed them, Ewan whispered, “Penelope Sussel. She briefly courted Baldwin.”
Marta’s heart felt drenched in stomach acid. Penelope curtsied perfectly, tilting her head so that the candlelight from within the ballroom danced across the red curls. “Good evening, Ewan! And Marta, I don’t believe we’ve had the opportunity to be introduced.”
“Marta, let me introduce Penelope Sussel,” Ewan said. He’d turned on his tremendous amount of charm, and his voice boomed out across the garden.
“Good evening, Penelope. So glad to know that Ewan and I have someone to chat with at this seemingly outrageous event,” Marta said. Still, her heart bumped about in jealousy. Why had she and Baldwin ended things? Was it possible that she still had her eyes upon him? And if so, was it possible that a fresh meeting that night, at the Regent’s ball, would be reason enough to try again?
“And Baldwin? I’ve just spotted him inside the ballroom itself. I couldn’t have envisioned him at such an event, even a year or so ago. Remarkable. Perhaps he’s changed for the better,” Penelope said.
“If you perceive ‘bettering’ to involve reckless drinking and frivolous dancing, I suppose,” Marta said.
Penelope laughed. The sound of it was strangely cruel. “And here I assumed you were some sort of reckless party girl yourself.”
“Perhaps. In Austria,” Marta returned. Her voice was much harder than she’d ever heard it.
The three of them marched up the steps and entered the ballroom. Already, Marta had grown accustomed to the pomp and circumstance of such events. A larger orchestra perched towards the corner, casting a spell of music, wave after wave, across the rapt audience. They were the conductors of the evening’s mood. Women highlighted their gorgeous curls, their round breasts, their magnanimous laughter, standing with their backs arched before whichever man they’d chosen for the night. Towards the table of drinks, Baldwin stood in all his glory: domineering and stoic, his black eyes scanning and catching everything throughout the audience. It didn’t take him long to recognise that Marta had entered. His eyes latched onto hers for a long time before he shifted, changing his face slightly—was that a smile?—and heading in their direction. En route, he noticed Penelope between Ewan and Marta and stumbled for a moment.
It seemed clear that he wasn’t entirely pleased about her appearance. Penelope struck forward, turning her shoulders this way and that, and spouted, “Good evening, Baldwin. I was just telling Ewan and Marta that I could never have envisioned you attending such an event.”
Baldwin arched his brow dangerously. He nodded and said, “Good evening to you, as well, Penelope.”
Marta felt her skin grow cold. She turned her eyes towards Ewan, unclear on what to do next. Before she could verbalise any sort of greeting, however, Duke Remington swept through the crowd. He was nearly as tall as Baldwin, and several inches higher than the majority of the men he passed. Marta’s eyes found him swiftly. She further heard the hushed whispers, the excitement, the intrigue. It was clear that the vibrant world of this year’s season buzzed with news about the Duke’s sudden desire for the half-Austrian.
Again, Duke Remington looked altogether handsome, if a bit banally so. He bowed in greeting and said, “Good evening, Fraulein. It’s marvellous to see you again. I’m so grateful that you decided to make an appearance at this humble gathering.”
“Humble is quite a word to use to describe it,” Marta said.
The Duke grinned almost evilly. “Perhaps.”
Baldwin’s eyes seemed ferocious, menacing. Marta turned her eyes towards his and frowned, attempting to read his expression. But before she could speak, the Duke uttered, “Good evening to you as well, Baldwin. It’s been far too long since we had the opportunity to speak.”
“Far too long. Yes,” Baldwin returned.
“Perhaps we can catch up a bit after this. In the meantime, however, I’d like to take Marta across the dance floor. Won’t you dance with me, Marta? Make the entire party jealous of me,” the Duke said.
The music swelled, an indication that it was time. Marta felt Baldwin and Ewan’s eyes upon her. She couldn’t say no; after all, the Duke had been the one to extend the invitation. She slid her hand into his and felt his large hand at the base of her back. This was every girl’s fantasy: the colour, the light, the handsome and powerful man who beamed down at her, eager to have her all to himself.
Yet she felt eternally as though she was guided away from the man she truly wanted.
“It’s a fine party,” Marta said. She forced her voice to brighten. If only for her aunt alone, she resolved herself to be flirtatious, sure.
“You would hope so. It is the Regent’s party, after all,” the Duke said. He sounded outrageous, arrogant. He beamed at her and flashed his teeth.
