Masquerade (13 page)

“As am I, Miss … it is
Miss
Connors, is it not?”

She blushed. “For now.”

“Excellent,” he said, offering her his hand. “So, Miss Connors, may I have the pleasure of this dance?”

Dora glanced toward Lottie for her approval, but her attention had been diverted by two older ladies. Surely it was appropriate to accept Mr. Greenfield’s invitation.

“Come now,” he said. “It may be a bit of a challenge with the movement of the ship, but—”

“We’ll counter it by making our own waves?”

“Haven’t you done enough of that, Miss Connors?”

“Not at all. That, Mr. Greenfield, was only one attempt toward making a splash.”

Where was this wit coming from? It was as though she’d been flirting her entire life. And Mr. Greenfield seemed delighted by her words.

The orchestra began a waltz, and Dora felt an inner swaying to the lovely music. She put her hand upon his and was led onto the dance floor. It didn’t seem real. The glittering chandeliers, the scent of perfume and flowers, the sound of violins, and the touch of a gentleman’s gloved hand upon her own.

And then upon her waist.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I should ask you that,” she said.

He laughed and swept her into the swirling mass of silk and diamonds and tailcoats.

Dora stumbled the littlest bit, but within seconds found the rhythm of it. Mr. Greenfield was an excellent dancer, and with an exhilarating strength he took charge and led her round and round.

“You are radiant,” he said, looking down at her.

“That’s because I’m flying!” She tilted her head back to take it all in, fully confident in his leadership.

“Fly on, little bird,” he said. “Spread your wings.”

Dora remembered envying the soaring sea gulls. They had nothing on her now.

She let herself take flight.

Lottie crossed the dance floor in the arms of an ancient man twice the age of her father.

“You dance well, my dear.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were glued on Dora and her dance partner—her fifth of the evening.

Lottie eyed the cluster of men waiting on the edge of the dance floor. Waiting for Dora.

Lottie’s partner—she’d forgotten his name—must have noticed the direction of her gaze, because he said, “The belle of the ball, that one is. Do you know her name?”

She’s my maid.
“She’s my best friend. Miss Connors.”

“I heard she has quite the wit. Spilling on Dr. Greenfield’s shoes, bumping into him, then bringing him a handkerchief. A well-orchestrated bit of flirtation that was.”

Lottie’s thoughts divided. Firstly, Dora didn’t know flirting from flying, and secondly, the name the man mentioned registered: Dr. Edmund Greenfield was the physician who treated the queen herself. No wonder Dora had dance partners. Once Dr. Greenfield gave Dora his approval, the other gentlemen would be quick to follow suit.

“Quite the dash in that young thing,” the man said. “Quite the fire. Do you think you could introdu—?”

Lottie stopped dancing. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to sit down.”

The old man led her to a chair, offered polite concern, then was off with the others, watching Dora waltz into everyone’s hearts.

It’s the dress. My dress. That’s what makes her so striking.

Then she remembered her dance partner’s comments about Dora’s gumption and wit… . Not one mention of her dress or jewels or even her dancing ability.

Lottie’s dress, Lottie’s jewels, and the result of Lottie’s dance lessons …

A young woman was deposited in the chair next to Lottie as her partner left for some refreshment. Her face was flushed and she fanned herself furiously.

“Good evening,” she said to Lottie.

“Evening.”

“ ’ Tis a grand ball, is it not?”

It is not.
“Grand,” Lottie said.

They were silent a moment as Dora and her partner waltzed by.

“Excuse me for the intrusion, but I saw you with that young woman who’s in such high demand. I’ve heard she is a countess or a princess. Is that true?”

Lottie remembered the first time she’d let—she’d insisted—Dora try on one of her dresses. Dora had said she felt like a princess.

The young woman waited for an answer. “She’s just an ordinary girl,” Lottie said.
Masquerading as a lady.

“Oh no,” said the woman, shaking her head. “There’s nothing ordinary about that one. She has the entire ship eating out of her hand. Would you be so kind as to introduce me to—”

For the second time that evening, Lottie interrupted a request for an introduction. She rose. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She’d had enough.

Lottie wove her way through the crowd with nary an eye to notice her passing. She headed back to their cabin.

No one would miss her, not when they had Princess Dora in their midst.

Dora was escorted off the dance floor into a bevy of future partners—of all ages.

“Miss Connors, may I … ?”

“Miss Connors, please allow me to …”

“Miss Connors, you promised me …”

She laughed at their enthusiasm. “Let me breathe, gentlemen. Your eagerness to spend time on the dance floor makes me believe the ship must be low on cigars and brandy.”

Their laughter fed her.

“I’ll get you refreshment,” said an earlier partner.

“Here, Miss Connors. Sit a moment and rest.”

“Recuperate is more like it,” she said, accepting the chair. She untied the fan at her waist and used it gratefully. A thought passed that the last time she’d been so glowing and spent was after she’d moved Lottie’s winter clothes to the attic for spring storage. Traipsing up and down those stairs, weighed down with heavy garments …

Dancing was a far more enjoyable cause of exertion and exhaustion.

A glass of punch arrived, and without thinking, she drank the contents in three gulps. As she lowered the glass, she realized her error. Ladies did not gulp. They sipped.

“Don’t stare at me, gentlemen—you who are the cause of my thirst. If you wish for me to continue, then I must be refreshed.” She held up the glass. “In fact …”

“I’ll get it this time,” said a man she hadn’t danced with as yet.

She wagged her fan at the older gentleman who’d been her last partner. His face was extremely flushed. “It looks as though you could use a bit of the refreshment yourself, Mr. Stoddard.”

He twirled his mustache and grinned. “If you’ll excuse me? Don’t mind if I do.”

The orchestra played the introduction to another dance, and her first partner, Edmund Greenfield, came forward. “I believe this dance was saved for me?”

“I believe it was.” Dora accepted his arm, and they moved to the dance floor.

“If I may ask, what is your business in America, Mr. Greenfield?”

“My cousin lives there. I’m going to join him.”

They danced past another couple, nearly too close. Dora felt her train brush against them.

“Do they have balls like this in America, I wonder?”

“Oh, I’m sure they do. Perhaps we could possibly …”

“Perhaps, Mr. Greenfield. America is full of possiblys.”

Dora scanned the ballroom, looking for Lottie. The ball was over. People were leaving.

She tried to remember the last time she’d seen her but had to admit it had been far earlier in the evening.

“Miss Connors? Are you looking for someone?” It was a Mr. Stoker, who’d danced a quadrille with her.

“I’m looking for my friend. But it appears she’s left already.”

He held out his arm. “Would you care for an escort back to your cabin?”

“Please.”

The witty banter she’d maintained all evening vanished as they walked. Dora was worried about Lottie. She prayed she was all right.

Mr. Stoker executed the key for her, then said his good-nights.

It took Dora’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of a single gas lamp. But in its glow she saw that Lottie was already in her bed, her back to the door, the cover pulled over her shoulder.

Dora tiptoed into the room and set her reticule and fan on a bureau. She began to remove her gloves when Lottie sat up in one swift motion.

“You frightened me!” Dora cried.

“Oh no, Miss Connors, for to frighten you, I would have to exist to you.” Lottie plumped her pillow roughly before tossing it aside.

The evening flashed through Dora’s memories. Unfortunately, tellingly, Lottie held no part in most of her recollections.

She finished removing her gloves and folded them with extra care. “Didn’t you feel well?”

Lottie swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Oh, I felt well enough, abandoned enough.”

Oh. That. But then she remembered. “I saw you dancing.”

Lottie’s laugh was bitter. “Once. Actually it was twice, though compared to you …”

Lottie was jealous! The knowledge nearly made Dora laugh, and it certainly quelled her concern. She began to unhook her necklace and earrings. “I’ll admit I had a marvelous time. The gentlemen were very kind and solicitous.”

“To you. Kind and solicitous to you. But to me and … and others?” Lottie stood and pointed in the direction of the ballroom. “Didn’t you notice the scowls on the faces of the other women present? The women who didn’t get to dance every dance? The ones who had to watch as the eligible men fawned over you?”

Dora held the earrings in her hand. She hadn’t noticed such a thing. “I didn’t do anything improper, did I? I didn’t seek the attention.”

“You did nothing to dispel it either.” Lottie took the folded gloves and thrust them into a hamper of soiled clothing.

Dora felt her ire rise. “I thought you’d be proud of the way the ship’s society accepted me, especially after my blunder last night.”

Lottie didn’t answer but held out her hand, wanting her jewelry back. Dora complied. Then she attempted to undo the back hooks of her dress, yet she knew it would be nearly impossible to undress without help.

Lottie pushed her hands away roughly and undid the hooks. “I admit it was amazing the way the men showed interest in you. I don’t know what you said to make them gather round you so, but …” She sighed. “It
was
impressive.”

Dora let out the breath she’d been saving. “I meant no harm or offense to anyone, Lottie. Please believe me. When Mr. Greenfield came up to me, teasing me about his shoes again, I—”

“
Dr.
Greenfield, the queen’s physician,” Lottie said.

Dora’s stomach dropped. “A doctor?”

“A doctor to the royals.”

And I called him “Mister” all night …
Dora put a hand to her midsection. “I don’t feel very well.”

“Oh, stop it,” Lottie said. “Obviously whatever title you called him— or called the others—they didn’t care.” The bodice was undone and Lottie moved around to Dora’s front to remove it. After she did, she held it in her hands and looked at Dora, eye to eye. “How did you do it? How did you charm them so?”

“I … I made them laugh.”

Lottie’s eyebrows rose. “Laugh. You told them jokes?”

“No, not at all. I don’t know any jokes.”

“Then what?”

What
had
she done? “I guess … I teased them. I made fun of them. I made fun of myself. They seemed to like that.”