Chapter forty-one
"He called off the marriage?!" Monica asked with a near squeak, her eyes glaring at Elizabeth's reflection in the mirror before her. The answer to the question hadn't come immediately though.
Her cousin brushed the red curls down into thick waves. And for the moment, she thought of the question thrown at her as well as a suitable answer for it.
When she heaved a sigh of frustration, she placed both hands on Monica's shoulders and looked straight into the mirror before them, "I did not presume I'd be this affected. I'm not supposed to feel this bad!"
Monica silently agreed, though the shock hadn't left her face, "I apologise. I must have taken this fling too far."
Elizabeth did not respond.
Cautiously, her cousin stood and turned to face her, realising just then how moist her eyes were. The blonde looked down at the hair brush in her hands and sobbed, "Is it me getting weaker or I just hate being rejected."
The Scottish cupped her cheek, changing her tone into the softest it could ever be, "Give me two days Elizabeth, and I promise you Philip will be all yours." That was something she tried to convince herself of as well.
As though practised, a grin replaced Elizabeth's previous features. She shook her head as though to clear it of the memory and clutched her cousin's arms. Gently, she turned her to face her reflection again, admiring the work she'd done on her. "I trust you Monica," she started, "And I believe he'll come back begging right after you leave. Till then," her smiled increased, "till then, let us make the most out of this."
She stopped talking so she could stalk round the lady to lean on the dresser, smiling at Monica who was wearing nothing but a lingerie.
Her makeup came as the faintest tough of colors to delicate parts of her face, making an overall enhancing effect on her features. Her hair was pulled up and held with teeth like combs, dropping a few strands to frame her face in the most careful and prettiest manner.
Elizabeth seemed to be quite pleased with herself, "It's your last night with Philip. I know better than to teach you the art of seduction. Go down there and command attention. You follow?"
Monica had arched a brow at the words. She stared down at her undergarments that came just below her torso, "Well this dress seems far smaller than the type you wear."
She got a chuckle from the blonde who had said nothing afterwards. Instead, Elizabeth tipped her head towards the large bed behind Monica.
The Scottish turned herself around in utmost anxiety as her eyes rested on the red ball dress placed smoothly upon the covers. With a small smile, she admired the hems made of pure expensive lace, "You seem to have learned my favorite color!"
***
"I wonder what the Scottish damsel has in store for us today," Earl snarled as he nudged Philip's shoulder teasingly. Just afterwards, he raised his cup to his lips. The hall was still half filled and yet it felt like the whole of England was present.
It was the most beautiful scenery the Marquess had ever seen, well just after Philip's defeat.
He could literally use the marble floors as an improvised mirror. And just above everyone, chandeliers hung down from the dozen hooks, swirling colors around through their refractive crystals. It was simply heaven.
It was not entirely heaven for everybody though. With Earl by his side, Philip could swear hell was the better word to use.
Although he couldn't also help but wonder…what would Monica look like?
His eyes had never left the entrance as guests upon guests flocked in. Every soul in the hall was Monarchy, that he could swear. The only thing that finally managed to waver his attention was the blare of the horns. At that, he took his gaze to the spiral staircase coming from the first deck of the palace.
Previously, anyone would have mistaken this for a luxurious carnival where the ton came to show off their wealth. But that assumption would have been corrected at the moment, because there came the Princess of England, Celeste Louis, in all charm and glory, stalking down the stairs with tons of maids by her side.
Philip Forland looked up at her finally felt that heavenly aura everyone else felt.
She was an unmistakable blonde with skyblue eyes as innocent as those of an infant. Her head remained low while she took most of her descent down the steps.
But when she looked up to see the fearful number of people, a nervous smile played at her lips and an awe was heard from the crowd.
She had the softest of features, with long widespread lashes batting childishly as she curtsied. The event was officially open.
And at the same time, Philip's search for his own damsel had come to an end.
"And here she comes," Jason whispered to him.
At first, the Duke assumed he was talking about the King's daughter. Until he added, "As fiery as always."
Then he remembered the only woman they knew fit that description best.
With one quick go, he turned to the direction the Earl of Vetcom gestured at…and his mouth dropped open.
Elizabeth and her cousin stalked through the guests in the slowest, feminine strides. But the blonde wasn't the main topic here.
His eyes hovered around the Scottish, lips shivering as he watched her twist through.
Elizabeth had returned smiles to strangers who admired her green silk dress, bouncing just above her feet.
But Monica? No matter the pleasantries and compliments thrown her way, she held her chin up with the skirt of her dress in her hands, a look of pride and seductive glory.
When she reached him and gave a half curtsy, he just gawked.
Knowingly, Monica held up a gloved hand to his face, a small grin on hers.
Philip looked down at the red clothed fingers, long, thin and delicate. And with a small dip of his head, he held the hand in his and kissed it.
Elizabeth was doing well at pretending not to notice the genuine spark igniting between the two. Just one more day…she thought. What could go wrong?
"You look gorgeous," Philip rasped with his breath on her skin, sniffing in the jasmine cologne that played with his senses. Knowingly, he rolled his amber eyes at her, getting just the reaction he wanted; that catchy, feminine gasp.
As though he was not shameful enough, his gaze dropped to her cleavage and smooth, bare shoulders, "Your dress is amazing."
That was all the things he needed to do in the right order to make her feel lust all over again.
And with one painful determination, she glanced away from those amber eyes and stood by his side, lest she does something inappropriate.
Oh…the engagement was already halfway through. Surely they hadn't spent that much time lusting after each other?!
Monica began panting nervously as she watched the couple exchange rings. Automatically, she looked at Philip and Elizabeth, praying she'd be able to fulfill her promise and never return to England…set things right for her cousin again.
But with temptations like the Duke of Anfield around, that would be slightly difficult. She wasn't falling! She could never fall!
It sounded more of something she tried convincing herself of.
While lost in her reverie, a thunderous applause broke round the entire hall, making her realise the engagement was over.
Good!
Now it was time to leave the hall, just anywhere away this overly beautiful man. The night was still young; and if she spent it all with him, she wasn't sure she was going to be leaving.
But he wasn't done with her, was he?
The music changed from the calm tunes to something more…intoxicating. It seemed the orchestra had gotten a bit of the vibe, suddenly putting the guests into a trance like dance frenzy, while most others were just dancing, drinking or sharing words with the couple.
Just as Monica was about to slip away, the Duke clutched her arm in an almost desperate grip.
Slowly,he turned her to face him, drinking in her beauty while pushing some strands of her hair away from her face, "We have a dance Monica. Remember?"
She looked down at the hand which he offered her and almost shook her head to search for a reason not to comply. But then, her gaze returned to his face and the effect was the same as always.
This time, he seemed to have worked on his hair just how she loved it. Long. Dark brown. Silky!
Surely one dance couldn't do much harm…
Before she knew she was doing it, her hand slipped into his and she moved into his arms and rasped, "I do remember Philip. Why not make this night memorable for me?"
He released a mischievous laugh and pulled her closer, "I plan to my love."
Unknown to them, a pair of eyes watched sadly, emotion building in her chest bit by bit.