The Amorous Mate

Chapter 29: To Dance

“She is the one I hate the most, that Miss Kress!”

Chelsea rolled her eyes when for the fifth time, First Princess Andromeda blurted her anathema to Miss Kress, the seemingly star of the night’s ball. She sipped a wine from her glass as she watched people dancing in the middle of the dance floor. She was quiet.

“I hope she would get a big wart on her face!”

From beside Chelsea, Princess Cassiopeia snapped a chuckle.

Andromeda looked at her, angered. “What are you laughing at, Cassiopeia? Are you laughing at me?” she asked, irritated.

Princess Cassiopeia looked at her. Not hesitating, she nodded, along with a smirk. “Yes, my sister, I was laughing at you.”

“How dare—” before she could cause another scene, First Princess Andromeda stopped her urge to chastise her sister. She realized that her younger sister was irritating her only because she was taking the opportunity of the present time, where a lot of people can see whatever she will be doing. She does not want other people to see that she was to hit her sister for she knew what kind of bad publicity it could bring to her.

“But then, I understand your feeling, sister. I can feel the same irritation to that woman. I can feel no romance to her,” Princess Cassiopeia honestly told.

First Princess Andromeda calmed down now that she knew her sister shares the same sentiment at her. “Indeed, I hate her. So much.”

“Aside from the fact that she stole the moment of your entourage, it seemed that she was trying to gain attention—a pitying attention—from everybody,” Princess Cassiopeia putted more woods on the fire.

“Indeed! Look how he was helped by Prince Nigel and that Baron Lord. Such attention she would get because of that!” First Princess Cassiopeia blurted.

Cassiopeia looked at Princess Demeter. “How about you, sister? Do you share the same loathe we have to the Miss of no amour?” she asked.

The question that Princess Cassiopeia threw was not answered because Princess Demeter may be looking at the dance floor, but her mind was roaming at who-knows-where.

“Sister, are you perhaps still in your body?” Cassiopeia tapped Princess Demeter’s shoulders.

Chelsea was a bit shocked when she felt the tapping hands of Cassiopeia. “Huh?” she exclaimed, bewildered and lost.

“I said, are you still fine?” her sister asked.

“Ah, yes, of course. I am fine. Why d’you ask?” she answered, though she was still confused, not knowing what to certainly answer to their questions.

“Well, we are talking about Miss Kress,” First Princess Andromeda interrupted. “And we are asking you if you are also hating the Miss from her spotlight-stealing act earlier.”

“Huh? Me, hating that Miss I haven’t even talked with? Of course, not. There is no enough reason to hate her,” she answered wholeheartedly. However, deep inside her chest, she knew that something was also boiling. Something was madly circling on her chest—a vortex of hatred. Yet she decided she shall not surface it outside as part of her emotion.

“But I hate her. So mad. I have enough reason to hate that witch,” grunted Princess Andromeda. Her grip on her wineglass was so tight she would have shattered it if she added a little more force.

“And you shall too, sister,” suggested Princess Cassiopeia. “Didn’t you see what she had done earlier? She stole your two dashing gentlemen! She stole Lord Matthew and Prince Nigel in a flick of her pitying act.”

“Cassiopeia, Prince Nigel and Lord Matthew are just trying to help that woman earlier. There’s nothing wrong in helping someone in need, right?”

“Indeed, there is none. But . . . I can sense something is wrong. There is something sly with what she have done earlier.”

“That was just your imagination, Cassiopeia. Until we haven’t proved anything wrong at her, then she is a good and nice person for me.”

“Well, will she still be a good person for you, if—look where I am looking at, sister—you see that she is flirting Prince Nigel?”

When she looked at where Princess Cassiopeia was looking at, she saw Miss Kress finally fine with her new dress. She was now wearing not a simple, plain dress that was smeared with food stains, but a grand red dress with blooming skirt which Duchess Wetherby owns. She was smiling sweetly as she talked to the handsome prince.

“It was just but a talk. There is nothing wrong with it.”

“A talk, and a dance. Holy heavens.” Princess Andromeda added.

Chelsea’s stares followed Miss Kress and Prince Nigel who was about to enter the dance floor, the moment the next music would start.

“What a spotlight stealer she is, indeed.” Andromeda grunted. If she could only kill by means of tightly gripping her hand, Miss Kress would be dead by now.

Chelsea could do nothing but stare at the figures of Miss Kress and Prince Nigel dancing in the middle of the dance floor with beaming smiles plastered on their faces. They were having a good time, it seemed. As they swayed to the music's beat, they were having a conversation. In fact, it was not just the Princesses who were watching the scene, but everyone inside the Wetherby Hall.

However, for Chelsea, it was just nothing but a dance. Perhaps no hidden meaning behind—or so she hoped.

Their hate conversation to Miss Kress stopped when two gentlemen approached them. At first, Chelsea was asked by the two gentleman, and when they learned that they have the same intention, they fought over the spot of who among them shall be the one to dance the princess. However, she chose none. She straightforwardly declined the gentlemen’s offer. Instead, she convinced the gentlemen that instead of her, they should dance her sisters, Princess Andromeda and Princess Cassiopeia. The two princesses accepted the offer, knowing that dancing could avert their attention from their hatred to the mysterious Miss Kress.

Chelsea was left alone, but it did not bother her. In fact, since the start of the event, she has long been desiring to have a lone time. She wants to be alone for a sort period of time. She did not know why, but her body was craving that moment. As she strolled in the place, she kept receiving dance invitations from different gentlemen. However, she refused all of them for she finds no thrill in dancing.

As she kept on strolling, she did not realize that she had reached the Wetherby Hall’s second floor. In here, there were only but few people having their conversation, drinking wine, and eating food. It was more peaceful and fine compared to the chaos of gossiping noises accompanied by the trembles of the orchestra below. This was a place intended for some of the most remarkable people who have special powers in the kingdom. Thus, being here was not a problem for her, because, as much as she can abuse her status, she is a princess.

She looked down the dance floor. Instantly, her eyes went and searched for Miss Kress who was dancing with Prince Nigel. However, she was surprised when she could not see Prince Nigel in the dance floor anymore.

Miss Kress though was still in the middle of dancing, indeed, but she was not partnered with Prince Nigel. Instead, her partner was now someone she secretly wished she should not.

“Damn it,” she whispered, irritated, but she could not know why she was being mad. Was it because of jealousy? “Why even Matthew?” she asked.

She tightly gripped the railings of the second floor she was holding. She gritted her teeth as she trenchantly stared at the two dancing figures below. She thought she would not get affected by Miss Kress, as oppose to what her sisters and everyone in the ball was feeling about her. She thought that she was someone who doesn’t deserve any hate.

But . . .

While looking at her dancing—no, flirting—with Lord Matthew, she could only hope she would trip and be embarrassed in the public once again.

It was a bad thought, indeed. But she could not help herself but to hate her. Or perhaps, she was hating the fact that Lord Matthew gave his first dance to that ‘spotlight stealer', as Andromeda called.

“I was right. Indeed, I found you here.”

Chelsea froze from shock when she heard someone from her back. She quickly looked behind her with a flustered gaze. There she saw Prince Nigel straightly looking at her, showing a smile that erased all of the irritation brewing inside her.

“Prince Nigel,” she called, “I thought you were dancing with Miss Kress?”

“Her? I gave her only a minute of dance because she was the one who asked it. I couldn’t say no, even though I was planning to . . . uhm, have my first dance with you.”

Chelsea did not talk.

“I-It was just a short dance, I swear, my Princess. M-My original plan was to have a dance with no one but you. I-It may not happen because Miss Kress interfered, but . . . well, I desire to dance to no one after yours.” He defended. His cheeks were blushing in red as he tried to find perfect words to explain everything. “P-Please, do not be jealous to Miss Kress. I . . . only desire none but the fairest princess.”

Chelsea chuckled. “I am not jealous, Prince Nigel.”

Prince Nigel deeply exhaled a sigh of relief after hearing Princess Demeter.

“Thank goodness,” he said. He stared back at the princess, and his gaze was not trembling anymore. “Then, perhaps, we can . . . dance?” he asked.

Chelsea smiled and nodded. “What matters is the ladies' first and last dance, isn’t it?” she asked.

Prince Nigel nodded with a hard to suppress smile.

“Well, I haven’t had my first dance yet,” she said, holding the Prince’s hand who was offering her for a dance.