Tori and I exchanged looks.
“Ah, suddenly shy, are you my girl?”
“I am nothing of the sort!” Tori said, affronted.
Lord Strongfoot tutted. “Now, now, there’s no shame in that. Back when I was courting your mother, I was a nervous as any lad, but I got over it. Everything turned out fine.” He thumped Tori on the shoulder. She bore it surprisingly well. “Look! Here comes a young man now.”
I turned around and found myself face to face with the waiter—no—Prince Ash. He was dressed in a crisp aquamarine waistcoat, his dark hair combed to the side. He had taken his crown off but it certainly didn’t diminish his princely appearance.
“Hello,” he said, grinning. “Miss Amarante Flora, if I remember correctly?”
I nodded, realizing that I should have curtsied.
“Will you spare me the next dance?”
I nodded again.
“Splendid! I’ll see you then.” With a smart bow and a polite smile at the Strongfoots, the prince was gone.
Lord Strongfoot grunted. “He looks like a nice chap. See, Tori? It can’t be that hard to find a partner. Amarante didn’t have to say a word.”
The first dance ended quicker than I could’ve imagined. When a five-minute intermission was announced after one of the violins went horribly out of tune, I excused myself from the Strongfoots and fished out Genevieve from the crowd.
“Amarante? What’s the matter?” Genevieve asked as I steered us away from the dance floor to the short hallway outside.
“Prince Ash asked me to dance,” I said. Of all the things I imagined would happen tonight, dancing with a prince was not one of them.
“That’s wonderful! Where are we going?”
“The powder room.”
“You look fine.”
“I’m going to hide.”
“Amarante!”
I pulled Genevieve inside the powder room. Debutantes and their mothers were crowded in front of a mirror that stretched across the wall, chattering and refreshing their rouge.
“It cannot be wise to shirk a dance with a prince,” Genevieve said. We squeezed ourselves through the hoop skirts and perfumed wigs to the last few inches of the mirror.
“You don’t understand! I did something incredibly stupid,” I said. I told her about my blunder with the apple. Genevieve hid her laugh with a cough. “So you see, I’m doomed!”
“On the contrary,” my stepsister said. “Everyone knows the waiter is Prince Ash, so Julianna can’t say anything. Now it just seems like the prince favors you.”
Her comment seemed to garner some attention. I pretended to adjust my hair, ignoring the familiar faces of those who had attended the dinner. Most of them had snickered when Julianna and Narcissa mocked me. I did not want to know what they thought of me now.
“Is it true?” a girl said. “Did Prince Ash really ask you to dance?”
Several other faces looked at me eagerly and a few matrons whispered. My embarrassment mounted.
“Amarante is too delirious with happiness to answer.”
The group parted, revealing Lady Narcissa in all her glory. Tonight, she was wearing a gown of ruby silk and a swath of diamond necklaces at her throat.
Genevieve and I curtsied, though I wanted to slap the sneer off her face more than anything else.
“Lady Narcissa,” I said curtly.
