Page 4 of An Ember for a Duke

“Not likely.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. You don’t want a woman to change you too much, just make you a little…better.”

Peter raised his glass, “Here’s to makingyoua little better.”

Chapter 3

ITWASTHENIGHTof the ball, and Glass Hall was covered, cooked, and caked in Christmas. There was mistletoe hung in every available space. There were holly and ribbons draped along stairwells, doorways, windows, and tables. And everywhere a person went, they could breathe in the deep, warm scent of cinnamon and nutmeg baked into a cake, cookie, or scone.

“Adeline, you must go to this ball, and you must wear this dress,” Margaret was insisting for the third time.

“I can’t.”

“You must.”

“I’m not a guest here.”

“It’s a masquerade. Anyone can be a guest. Plus, I insist. I cannot attend the ball as I’m still feeling under the weather. So you must go in my stead.”

Adeline cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, not in my stead. Just go. Enjoy the evening. You would have attended with me–” Margaret raised a hand to stop Adeline’s protests. “I would have insisted.”

There was the word again. Adeline would feel completely out of place if she attended the ball without Margaret. What would she say? How would she know how to act around everyone? She couldn’t imagine socializing without her counterpart. Surely she would be found out to be a phony. She didn’t belong at balls.

“If you would have attended with me, you will attend without me.” Margaret raised her hand again. “I won’t hear it. This dress was practically made for you. Let me be your fairy godmother for one night. Go be Cinderella.”

“I’m no Cinderella.”

“Well, I hope not actually. She was treated atrociously.” Margaret chuckled.

Adeline didn’t try to suppress the contagious laugh. “No, Your Grace. You treat me with kindness and generosity.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I’m not Cinderella. I don’t have that kind of fire to be that princess.”

“Then just be an ember. The fire will come later.” Margaret threw her hands in the air. “It’s a masquerade. They are made for pure delight. Enjoy the night. Be bold. Be daring. Or just be an ember and wait for someone to come stoke your fire.” Margaret grinned.

“Now, put this gown on and get out of here.” Margaret clapped her hands to signal the end of the conversation.

***

THE MASQUERADE WAS A crush. A successful one at that, if one counted success by smiles and laughter. And usually Luke did. However, at this precise moment, he was also counting the determined look on the fast approaching mother and doe-eyed daughter as the eleventh pair that evening. His wig and domino were not as effective as he had hoped. They had deterred many, most perhaps, but apparently not all.

He needed out. Just for a few minutes.

Ducking through the nearest door, Luke walked, or more precisely raced, down the hallway. As he was rounding the upcoming corner he heard a squeal and quickly slowed his pace. Fortunately he did, for if he hadn’t, he would have had to make a quick decision to leap over a crawling baby.

“Where did you come from?” he said smoothly as he scooped up the infant.

The baby babbled in response.

“Well, I wish I could understand, but we will figure this out together.”

Luke noticed movement in a door off to the right of the hallway. Deciding that might be the baby’s likeliest origin, Luke pushed through.

“Anyone missing a baby?” he said as he entered the room.

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