Chapter Twenty-Nine
The candles were set. The food was prepared. The musicians plucked at their strings. The staff ran fitfully back and forth across the freshly waxed dance floor, dodging men on ladders who were themselves busy lighting each of the hundreds of wicks topping the chandeliers. The rugs had been beaten, and the deep violet ceiling-length drapes were opened and secured with golden tassels. Alex stood with Emily in the immaculate great hall of the country estate. Everything was ready, and Alex had been part of making it all happen.
Emily directed the butler to buff out a spot left on an ivory banister at the entrance to the hall, then turned to Alex. “Now, we take a moment for ourselves,” she said with a calming breath. “The maids will bathe you, and then youmustchoose one of the dresses, Alex. No more delays.” She looped her arm through Alex’s and continued. “Be down again by five to help me do final preparations.”
“Yes, General,” Alex chuckled as she saluted.
“Please stop calling me that,” Emily wrinkled her nose. “It’s so unfeminine.”
“I will when you stop acting like one.” Alex teased.
They unclasped their arms and went to separate parts of the mansion. Alex returned to the room where she had been staying to find a bath hadalready been prepared for her. She delighted in the pampering and all the fancy soaps and oils Emily had at her disposal, so different from what she was used to. In the days she had spent between Ponce and Emily’s country home, working to orchestrate this ball, she had seen a side of life that she’d never even acknowledged. There was great pride in running a household. And the work was exhausting. It was mental work, while the tasks she was accustomed to were very physical. She wasn’t quite ready to trade in her sword for a dustpan, but for the first time, she recognized that there was a lot more to domestic life than eating candies and gossiping.
She disrobed and stepped into the warm tub and asked the ladies to give her some privacy while she bathed. The maids didn’t know quite what to make of Alex but had grown used to doing what she asked as a guest of their mistress. The warm water was soothing to her skin. She sighed and then pulled her knees up to her chest.
When she had walked into Emily’s home earlier that week, she had truly been on her way out of town. She saw no need to stay any longer, but Emily had sucked her right into this process. Alex had been too baffled by the request to fight back too hard. She was glad she had agreed to stay. She had grown very fond of Emily in the time that they had spent together. Emily was prissy and emotional, but she got things done and wielded her household just as violently as Alex wielded her blade.
Alex had needed a little support too, though it was hard to acknowledge. A few times over the course of the week, Emily had prodded, having understood instantly that Philippe was the reason Alex needed to escape, but Alex had remained mute on the subject. She just couldn’t admit that she had fallen for himagainand that she had welcomed all those same crushing feelings he inspired so well: attraction and affection, followed by excitement and hope, only to be beaten by disappointment and desperation. How did she keep letting it happen? Had she not, after all these years, learned her damn lesson?
She hadn’t had contact or word from him since he left. Not that she really expected it. In his note he had promised to be there for the ball, and now the ball was only a few hours away. She had little faith that she would see him. Even if he did arrive, even if he showed up tonight, was there really any hope he would still be interested in her? She couldn’t hope to maintain his attention. She was just a silly girl who liked to wear pants and wentagainst everything society expected from a woman, like she had always been. Though they had shared some moments, he was still a handsome son of a duke with a country of willing women before him. Even knowing all that, she still wished to take him as a lover, even if just for a night. It was a desire she could not escape.
Just thinking of him awakened her body once more, and she submerged herself in the water with a groan.
Two hours later, Emily had to be summoned to Alex’s room.
Emily had been in the middle of having her hair done when one of the maids ran in and begged for her help.
“The missus,” the girl sputtered. “Doesn’t like any of the dresses.”
Emily waited for the last curl to be placed before she rose with decided calmness from her vanity. She marched through the hall, across the landing, down the steps and past the auxiliary entrance into the guest quarters. When she arrived, she threw open the door to find Alex clad in nothing more than undergarments, white-knuckle gripping the footboard of the bed like an angry orangutan with Emily’s own exquisite wardrobe surrounding her. It was a battlefield of tulle and silk.
“I can’t wear any of this stuff,” Alex lamented. The three exasperated maids who had been assisting her were trying to straighten and hang the rejects.
“Alexandra, don’t be a child,” Emily said, a snap in her voice. “You may not wear pants to the ball.”
“I’m not trying to wear pants to the ball, Emily,” Alex said indignantly. “But I can’t stand looking like a pastry either.”
“I have offered you some of my finest gowns. You are lucky I like you,chère, or I should have you thrown out on your ear for such disrespect.”
“You’re right.” The anger left Alex’s voice and, defeated, she held up her hands in surrender. “You are absolutely right.” She slumped down onto the foot of the bed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Anything will be fine.”
“That’s a terrible way to think when you are getting ready for a ball. Ladies,” she said to the maids waiting anxiously by, “please leave us for a moment.”
The girls scuttled out, and Emily sat next to Alex. “It does matter whatyou wear, and it matters how you wear it. You are one of the hostesses of this party, and I won’t allow you to look like I pulled you out of a ditch.” She paused. “This is about Philippe, isn’t it? Will you please tell me what happened between you two?”
Alex was quiet for a moment before she buried her head in her hands. “I threw up on him.”
Now it was Emily’s turn to be quiet. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” she said.
“I got drunk and we kissed, and then I threw up on his leg.” Alex shook her head with her eyes closed as if trying to erase the memory.
Emily stared at her for a moment. Then she shrugged. “I’ve come back from worse.”
Alex swung her head and looked at Emily. “Really?”
“My goodness, Alex, you are in desperate need of female companionship.” Emily smiled and fiddled with the lace of her dressing gown. “You know how I met the Marquis? Not the story we tell people, but the real story,” she said, feeling her voice go up a few notches with a tinge of shame. She didn’t like to tell it, but she owed Alex something for her help.
“I haven’t heard either story, actually,” Alex said.
