The Amorous Mate

Chapter 30: A Dance

Chelsea smiled. She confidently walked down the stairs. Beside him was Prince Nigel who was beaming more than how the princess does. It only took a single glance before the people could notice the perfect chemistry the two noble people possess as they walk down the stairs.

They were all fascinated and pleased seeing how Princess Demeter and Prince Nigel held each other’s hand, tightly, as if one of them will be snatched before they could even start their dance.

Chelsea already expected such kind of attention given by the people. She was a princess—a highly anticipated queen, as believed by many—and Nigel was a prince everyone dreams to be in loved with. Since she has anticipated the situation, she managed to handle the shock and the awkwardness she was feeling from the piercing gazes of the people. The whole dancing ball was silent—even the musicians stopped playing. They were looking at the prince and princesses with smile.

It was as if the time stopped. Only then she realized that it was because everyone was waiting for her and the prince to reach the dance floor before the time could continue moving again.

“Are you ready, your highness?” Prince Nigel asked.

Chelsea smiled, and as the saxophone blew a starting signal for the playing of the music, she bowed in his front.

The people gasped in delight when finally, the prince’s hand touched the Princess’ waist, while the princess holding the prince’s shoulder. Their gazes locked with each other, and both of them were smiling heavenly.

“I was told, my princess was a great leader,” Prince Nigel started a conversation as they danced.

“Huh? What do you mean?” creasing her forehead, she asked the prince.

Prince Nigel chuckled. “I have been curious of you ever since I first saw you, your highness. That is why, I kept asking people who knew and is near of you—and I must say, you have wonderful stories.”

Chelsea panicked when she learned Prince Nigel was studying her life—life that she never had. Or say, life that was not actually hers. She awkwardly laughed, and even lightly hit Prince Nigel’s chest, as if she finds his statement funny. “Are you saying you’ve done a background check of me?” she asked in a joking manner.

Prince Nigel chuckled. “It wasn’t intended as if I was suspecting you for a crime. It was just . . . to suffice my curiosity about my fondness to you.”

“Then that was stalking,” she said, then whispered to herself, “in my old life, that was a crime. I could make you imprisoned from that.”

“Are you saying something?”

She shook her head, and forced a sweet smile. “Nothing. I just . . . remember something.”

“Ah, I see.”

“About that being a good leader thing, who told you about that?” she asked. She had to spin twice as part of the dance step.

“It was your head servant, princess. Someone named Vennett.”

“Ah, one of my V-maids.”

“V-maids?”

Again, Chelsea smiled and shook her head. “That is just how I call her and her sister, Venida.”

“Ah, I see. I’ve seen her sister too. Actually, the both of them spoke highly about you. I can sense that they are respecting your capabilities and loves you as either their duchess, or even, their princess.”

“Of course, they should be. After all, they were serving me,” Chelsea joked.

“They even said one thing that I highly agree to the most,” said Prince Nigel.

“What was it?” curious, Chelsea asked.

The dance step required another spin, while the man supporting the woman’s hand so that she would not fall. After a spin, the man was required to hug the woman from her back.

That was what Prince Nigel and Princess Demeter did. As he hugged her, he whispered, “they say how fit you are to be the queen, and among anyone, I agree the most.”

Chelsea was flustered as she experienced how the prince warmly hugged her. Warmth rose up to her cheek, making her uncomfortable. Luckily, the dance steps were back to zero, causing Prince Nigel to break from the hug.

When they were back facing each other, Chelsea’s eyes could not steadily fix at his gaze because of discomfort. She was uncomfortably looking at every things in the surrounding—anything but not Prince Nigel’s eyes.

“I believe the song has finished.”

From the still silence coming from the two, a familiar voice of a man broke beside them. The flustered Chelsea checked to whom does the voice belongs to. There standing beside them was a man—his face does not have any hint of bliss, but pure serious, and by the way he looked at Chelsea and Prince Nigel’s hand was as if he would want to cut the two by a sharp sword.

From their hands, his gaze went to Chelsea. She could not understand, but his glare has an effect to her, as if she would jerk from where she was standing, then will get pinned on the wall. Luckily, it never happened. Instead, his stare has only made her to take one step back.

“I believe we could still dance for another song,” defended Prince Nigel, smiling. He was unaffected by the way how the Baron Lord glared.

“But I was asking Princess Demeter for a dance,” Lord Matthew suddenly said as his stare got stuck at Chelsea’s eyes.

Chelsea was confused with the Lord Matthew’s action. Why was he acting so mad by the fact that she and the prince had a dance? From terrified look, her stare shifted to irritation.

“You never asked me formally, Matthew,” she said, rolling her eyes.

She was not certain, but the moment she said those words, she saw a glimpse of frustration and defeat from the Lord’s eyes. Well, had he only asked the formal way, had he conveyed his intention properly as to why was he interrupting their dancing, he would have her hand already. She would dance with him without any second thought. But then, he was a fool thinking she will be frightened by his incisive stare.

Prince Nigel, on the other hand, beamed after he heard Princess Demeter. He quickly backed up, only because he wanted to spend more time with the princess.

“Indeed, Baron Lord. You have never asked for your intention to dance with the Princess. It was nonetheless but a clear act of disrespect. Now go, before I and the Princess would get mad and inflict you a punishment,” warned Prince Nigel. He looked at Princess Demeter, and nodded, as if saying they must go and continue with their dance.

Chelsea smiled. She quickly glanced at Lord Matthew before they left him. She saw him looking down the floor, breathing heavily, and . . . she knew he was trying to control his anger—for his ego and pride was hurt.

‘Well, that’s what you got for dancing Miss Kress,' Chelsea thought.

She knew that was a childish reason to let the lord suffer and be embarrassed like this. But, she want him to experience too the way how she felt when she saw how he and the miss danced in the dancefloor, as if they were lovers, chuckling over a weird humor. Besides, he has never asked properly. He only said that they would dance as if she was his property—she was no one’s property. That, she knew.

They now turned their backs to him, and about to leave the poor lord alone. Yet, they stopped when a booming voice echoed from their back. It was Lord Matthew’s.

“Your Highness!” he shouted. Chelsea quickly turned her gaze back to him, and saw his head low and bowing in her front. “I am but a mere Baron Lord, as we know. Yet, a thin face would not save me from my desire to acquire a dance with you for tonight’s ball. I am just a lowly ranked nobleman, but—” he looked at her with his hands stretched towards her, begging for the Princess’ hands— “may I have this dance?”

Chelsea was stunned upon hearing what Lord Matthew has said. She was even more frozen by the fact that she witnessed how he lowered his pride, and even embarrassed his self just so he could get a dance with her. He doesn’t need to announce it to everyone, for it would only give him a bad image from the society, but still he had done it.

‘What was the problem with this man?’ she asked herself.

She sighed. She looked at Prince Nigel apologetically. “I think, Prince Nigel, I have to have a dance with Matthew. You see, he was like, uhm, a beggar begging for some food.”

Prince Nigel chuckled. His stare back to the Princess has traces of sadness, but then he could not do anything but nod. “It was a pleasant dance with you, my princess.”

Prince Nigel bowed, so as Chelsea. After the prince left, Chelsea went to where Lord Matthew was. Still, he was bowing, as if he was afraid to show his face who have been embarrassed today.

“Hey, Matthew,” Chelsea whispered. “I thought we’re gon’na f*****g dance?” she cleared the rasp on her throat, and said, “let’s go.”

As the signaling saxophone blew again as a sign for the start of another dancing music, Lord Matthew stood, and revealed his unbothered, slightly-smirking face—a face of someone who has been victorious.

The music started. It was a soft-mellowed music that one could recognize as a dance for partners—couples. Chelsea saw Lord Matthew’s smirk becoming even bigger by the fact that he heard the music.

“What are you doing, Matthew?” Chelsea asked.

Lord Matthew’s eyes were fixated on her. As they swayed, (his hands on her hips, and hers were on his shoulders), they were sharing a passionate stare. Lord Matthew was half-smirking, while Chelsea was confused.

“Dancing,” Lord Matthew answered.

“It’s obvious that we’re dancing, Matthew. But why the heck would you want to dance with me?”

Lord Matthew shrugged. “Beatrix wanted me to do this,” he reasoned. “She said, she wanted me to dance with you, so that I could assess how good she was as your personal trainer.”

“Ah, I see. It was Beatrix who wanted this,” Chelsea said. She was somehow relieved that Lord Matthew has enough reason to be desperate to have a dance with her. It was confusing if he would just ask it just because of his mere desire. Perhaps, he was doing this so that he could help her better in the future. It was a valid reason, but then, Chelsea felt a bit of disappointment amid the relief. She half-expected, perhaps, that the lord only wanted to dance with her just because he wanted to, and nothing more. She expected that he just wanted to dance with her, but then, expectations were different from the reality.

“I can say she has taught you well,” Lord Matthew said.

“She’s a good teacher, but I am a good learner too. I can pick up fast,” Chelsea reasoned.

Lord Matthew nodded. “At the very least, no one would get suspicious of you—for now.”

Chelsea agreed. “At least, they would still think that I was not losing my mind as a princess.”

“You are dancing well, Chelsea. Do not worry,” Lord Matthew whispered, careful not for anyone to hear that he was addressing the princess with another name.

Chelsea nodded. For few minutes, the both of them were silent. The only thing that she was doing, was to focus on her dancing. Chelsea thought that perhaps, the lord was focusing on her dancing too, that was why he was silent.

But then, Chelsea broke off the silence, for it was starting to get awkward. “Can I ask something, Matthew?”

“What could it be?” he asked.

“Uhm, about what happened at the Modiste. About that, uhm, you know, hugging thing you did without me expecting it. Uhm, why did you do it?” she asked, uncomfortable.

Lord Matthew’s expression did not change. As she looked at the lord’s face, she realized how hard reading the man was.

Lord Matthew opened his mouth to answer—when suddenly, another scream from the crowd occurred that caused another disturb on the event. Everyone was curious, trying to find what was the reason of the screaming. Yet, for Chelsea, she needs not to be intrigued for she already saw the reason.

She saw a woman lying unconsciously on the floor, beside the table of food. She was fighting for her life.

Quickly, she ran towards her.

****************

“Look how disgusting that Baron Lord was,” said one of the noblewomen watching from the crowd. “He even stole the spotlight from the Prince!”

“What was his name again?” the other asked.

“Matthew from the province of Saxton, I heard.”

“Oh, that must be the reason why such a mere Baron had the courage to ask a high princess for a dance. He knew that she would not get turned down because Princess Demeter is also the Duchess of the house of Saxton.”

“Indeed. I have even heard that the man was always visiting the princess at the Saxton Hall. Perhaps they were close.”

“No, dear, they were more than close. A house servant of mine has a nephew working at the Saxton Hall, and she was claiming that the mere Baron was betrothed to the Princess.”

“That is utterly ridiculous! The princess would not want to have someone as poor as him!”

“We cannot tell, indeed, we cannot.”

Amid the ladies who were gossiping in the crowd, as they looked at the dancing Baron Lord and the Princess, someone was listening to them. Behind everyone in the crowd was a woman who was already neglected by the society. Her eyes may be at the dancing figures in the dance floor, but her ears were at the women who was so fond of doing nothing but share gossips. She was clenching her fist. Mad, she looked at Princess Demeter while she formed plans as to how she could perhaps . . . torture her.

“She had everything I wanted to have,” she whispered. “How lucky.”

From the far side of the hall, a woman’s scream disturbed everyone’s peaceful watching. A woman was panicking as she saw an unconscious woman lying helplessly on the floor.

The neglected-of-the-society’s attention, however, was all fixed at the princess she was despising. She saw her running towards the unconscious woman, ready to help.