Queen For A Night (10 page)

It was obvious that she was not the only one who thought so. There were two young women, one in black silk and the other in purple, who were watching Ross with avid eyes and talking behind their hands. They turned away in confusion as they saw Caroline glance in their direction.

“Pictures! Pictures, folks! Show time! Formal pictures for board members and guests. Stand by, court. You're next!”

It was the krewe secretary, poking her head in at the door to make the announcement. There was a groan or two and a general sweeping movement in the direction of the exit.

“We'll be right after the court,” Ross said. “Maybe you should start getting ready.”

Caroline gave him a cool look. “I was waiting for the dressing room to clear out a little.”

“They have a special one for you. Didn't anybody tell you?”

They hadn't, of course, probably because everyone thought she knew. But she had never been on the court like Murielle, never been allowed in the dressing area. So, no, she hadn't known.

“And you,” she said. “Do you have a place to yourself?”

“A corner of my very own next door to yours. Come on, I'll show you the way.”

Around her, people cracked jokes, kidding each other, laughing with the sheer enjoyment of the evening. Caroline felt removed from their joy, unable to share it. She had never been so alone in her life.

She raised her glass, sipping carefully from the pale gold liquid. The action was necessary to force an opening in the tight knot of her throat. “Oh, yes, let's get on with it. Heaven forbid that we should keep anybody waiting—or make this last even a moment longer than absolutely necessary.”

Ross gave her a sharp look as he touched her elbow to indicate a hallway to the right. She moved at his side without further urging, but she didn't meet his gaze, nor did she smile.

He couldn't wait to get the evening over with, she thought; that much was crystal clear. This night was only a nuisance, a duty that he had to get through. Being with her meant nothing to him, nothing at all. The sooner she accepted that fact, the better off she’d be.

The whole thing, from beginning to end, had been a farce. She had been used by her cousin in a stupid game of retaliation that took no notice of her feelings, her needs or dreams. She had been an easy mark, both for Murielle and for Ross, easy beyond belief. And the whole thing made her feel raw inside with the pain of it.

The costume was a perfect fit except for the skirt hem. It was too long; Murielle had apparently planned on wearing higher heels. Caroline wasn't at all surprised; she had come to expect things to go wrong.

Yet staring at herself in the mirror, she thought it was a shame women had ever stopped wearing long skirts and petticoats. There was something about all the excess material that made them appear regal and just a little imposing. The crown didn't hinder the look, of course, nor did her costume's wide, gossamer collar with its attached train. And if she had to suffer the dig of the collar support, like a lightweight body cast around her waist, or endure the drag of heavy velvet and satin on her shoulders, well, it was just possibly worth the trouble. At least for a single night.

Slowly, as she stood there with her shoulders back and her head held high, the only position in which the costume and crown looked as it should, an insidious sense of legitimacy crept in upon her. That was her in the mirror with the crown on her head. She had made it. She was the Mardi Gras queen.

She felt majestic. She felt as if she could command the events of the night and her place in them.

She was the queen, just as in her yearning dreams as a child. Soon it would be over, and could never come again. This was her one night for feeling grand. It was by special request, it was true, but the honor was still hers alone. It was not her fault that Murielle had been unable to complete her assigned duties. She had no reason to feel embarrassed or guilty, none at all.

She was the queen.

It was her ball, her evening, her moment in spotlight. It was her time to throw off care and live in the present, perfect moment. Almost, this time had been spoiled for her. Almost, but not quite.

She was the queen.

She had won the splendid glittering prize. There were others she might have preferred, others lost before they could be claimed, but she would not mourn them tonight.

Nothing, now or ever, could take this away from her. Nobody was going to rub the shine off this evening for her. She wouldn't let them.

The door opened behind her. The hairdresser, standing in the doorway with one hand propped on her hip, surveyed Caroline with a bemused smile. “Gawd, how gorgeous!”

Caroline turned slowly to face the woman. “My hem is a little too long. I don’t suppose you—”

“Nothing easier. With that train and all, only the front part matters.” The woman whipped a box of safety pins out of her carry-all and went down on one knee. Seconds later, she stood up again. “There, how’s that?”

“Thank you so much.” Caroline’s smile was a little tremulous around the edges. “Do I really look all right now? Everything on all right? Nothing showing that shouldn't be?

“You look wonderful, the most fabulous queen I've ever seen. I don't know what I'm supposed to do to make you look better. Unless you'd like a little more glitter?”

A laugh of purest pleasure bubbled up inside Caroline. “Yes, please, more glitter,” she said with a rising lilt in her voice. “The more glitter and shine, the better!”

“Honey, you got it,” the hairdresser said as she took a spray can from her carryall and began to shake it.

The outer dressing room was empty as Caroline moved through it on the way toward the foyer. It was a little difficult to open the door with the fullness of her skirt in the way. Someone on the other side, noticing her difficulties, took over and pulled the heavy panel wide. Lifting her skirts in one hand, she went slowly forward.

It was the policeman on guard duty who held the door. He stood well back with a smile on his face, though a moment later he glanced away toward another man who stood waiting.

It was Ross, dressed now in a white tuxedo sewn with gold sequins down the leg stripes, and with a sequined vest. His crown was a more massive edition of her own, while his train, in a similar design, was wider. In all other respects, they were matched, a perfect pair, regal and shimmering in the light.

Ross moved forward with his arm outstretched, ready to support her hand. She felt his gaze resting first on her hair, drawn back in combs that allowed soft ringlets, shimmering with gold glitter, to curl around her neck. It moved then to the gilded skin across her cheekbones, and down over her shoulders and the upper curves of her breasts where the fine golden glitter had also settled.

A smile curved Caroline’s mouth. If it was a tiny bit self-satisfied she didn't care. She liked the look of bemusement on his face. That she had impressed him, even for an instant, was something she would always remember.

With the greatest care, she collected other memories to be held against the future. The firm, warm feel of his hand and arm under hers. The pleasure of standing at his side as if she belonged there while the official photograph was taken. The toast that he gave her for the sake of the camera. The slow, steady march as they made their way toward the curtained doors of the auditorium where they would make their entrance. The secret joy of standing back in the shadows and exchanging small comments about the costumes of the other members of the court, the dukes and duchesses personifying famous lovers of the past, as they were introduced. All these were impressed on her mind so they might be taken out and savored later.

The music was loud and upbeat, the evening warm. The ballroom, what she could see of it through the entrance curtains, looked beautiful in its romantic fantasia of purple, green and gold. The carpeted floor at her feet gleamed in a thousand places from fallen glitter and sequins lost from costumes. These things, too, she would remember.

This was her moment, this instant and the small stretch of time which lay just ahead. She closed her eyes and held the knowledge to her, letting it fill some deep empty place. For this single night, the world was hers to command, hers to order as she saw fit.

And abruptly, as she stood there, she saw the perfect way of exercising her royal privilege. It would be a grand thing to have the memory of speaking exactly what was in her mind.

Besides, it was Mardi Gras, wasn't it? It was that delicious, delirious time when worries were forgotten and fears and doubts were cast aside. It was the wonderful night when a person could do and be whatever they pleased, could even be a total fool if that was what it took to make them feel better inside.

What did she have to lose, after all?

The music playing for the final court couple was dying away. In a moment, the theme song for the king and queen would begin. Their identities and dignities would be announced.

Caroline turned her head to look up at the man beside her. Her voice quiet but perfectly clear, she said, “I never set out to seduce you, Ross McDougall, would never have dared try it just to be queen, but I'm glad I made love to you.”

The swing of his head in her direction was sharp. She met his stunned gaze without evasion, her own calm and sure. The voice of the master of ceremonies boomed out in the beginning of their introduction, while the krewe secretary motioned them forward with a quick, imperative gesture.

The planes of Ross's face tightened. He pressed his lips together and put his free hand over her fingers where they gripped his arm.

The two of them moved into position. The curtains before them swung wide, their signal to enter the ballroom. Ross took a long step. Caroline lifted her chin and swept forward at his side. The spotlights, and also the strobes for the movie cameras recording the event for the krewe archives, caught them in a dazzling glare.

It was then that Ross tilted his head toward her and spoke quietly. “I said it once before, but it's worth repeating to set the record straight: I never felt obligated to be king because we made love. I agreed because it seemed the best hope for us maybe one day doing it again.”

She sent him a swift look, astounded by the rich undercurrent in his voice. An instant later, she was forced to smile and make her royal bow to the krewe captain who stood waiting to receive them.

Now they must present themselves to their subjects by promenading down the left side of the room and back again before repeating that performance on the right side. Applause and the music that accompanied them, a sweeping version of “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing,” covered her voice as she spoke again. “If you wonder why I kissed you, it was to prove something to you, and also to myself.”

There was no time for his answer before he had to step back to give her room to make her turn while he held her hand aloft. Smiling, moving in a shimmer of golden light, she made the slow, swinging maneuver at his side. As the movie camera tracked them, she returned to walk beside him once more with the heavy weight of her train flowing behind her. She lifted her scepter for pass after graceful pass, giving benediction, accepting homage and the approval it indicated. Her pace was steady, unhurried.

“And what did you prove?” Ross asked after a moment, his face turned away from her as he made his own formal and kingly gestures.

“Two things,” she replied without hesitation. “The first that I wasn't afraid, and the second, that there would be something special in your kiss.”

He swung his head to stare at her then. “And just how much,” he asked in soft query, “have you had to drink?”

“A few sips,” she answered as a silent laugh shook her for his conclusion. “There was hardly time for more.”

“Then you know what you're saying?”

“Every last word. You don't have to listen, of course.”

She waved her scepter at a small girl who stood on a chair while wearing a toy crown, waving a toy scepter and grinning with delight. A second later, she realized the girl was Tess, and the older women on either side of her, clutching the back of her dress in case she fell, were Ross’s mother and grandmother. He had not left the other ladies in his life out of the fun of this evening. If she had not loved him before, she would have then.

“I wouldn't miss a syllable of it for all the oil in the gulf or half the boats in the ocean,” Ross said, saluting Tess in his turn. “But while we're on the subject, tell me why you were in such a hurry to get away from me yesterday morning if you weren't scared—or maybe insulted.”

“I was only afraid of what you might say. I didn't want to hear words you couldn't mean or promises you didn't intend to keep.”

They had reached the center of the room again and started down the other side. He said quietly, “Words such as I love you and have since the first time Tony pulled out one of your pictures? Promises such as forever?”

She stumbled a little but recovered, though her voice was not quite steady as she answered. “Something like that.”

“Then it's a good thing you didn't wait.”

Did he mean what she thought, or was she reading things into what he’d said? Since this was her night, she would pretend it was as she wanted. She said, bowing to a tipsy and balding man who was blowing kisses at her, “I might have stayed for that, if I had known.”

“You almost heard it last night at rehearsal. I really expected Murielle to try to take her crown back from you for the fun of making me squirm, and was all set to put an end to her scheming by handing her mine to go with it. After which, I thought I might sweep you away and make mad crazy love to you to make up for your disappointment.”

Instead, Caroline's cousin had come to crow over Ross, and had nearly ruined the ball and their lives. But it was going to be all right now. The certainty of it ran like liquid glory in Caroline's veins.

“This is Mardi Gras,” she said with steady composure. “We can pretend last night happened any way we choose. Or if we prefer, we could start all over from the beginning, when I first stepped aboard
L’escapade
.”

“Why else,” he asked, “do you think I brought the boat?”