Page 33 of Camellia and the Christmas Curse
“It is not Townsend I wish to be noticed by,” she said miserably.
Mrs Bloomfield held her hand. “Would I be right in thinking Mr Ryder has caught your fancy?”
“Oh, I’m a fool to want him for a husband.”
“I would not say so. You’re well suited in personality.”
“He won’t speak to me. He knows I intended to attract Townsend, and I think I may have hurt his feelings.”
Mrs Bloomfield shook her head. “You’ve created quite a tangle for yourself, haven’t you? It’s so unlike you, to encourage two men at once.”
“I didn’t mean to! I haven’t felt like myself since we came here.”
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. Mrs Bloomfield opened the door and accepted a small note from one of the maids.
She opened it and handed it wordlessly to Camellia, her expression indicating extreme doubt.
The folded note said only Long Gallery. Quarter to midnight. Be careful no one sees you.
Camellia blushed at the words.
“Mr Ryder?” Mrs Bloomfield guessed.
“It’s not what it looks like! We’ve been looking for the source of the ghost stories, and I think we’ve found it. But it has to be at midnight, don’t you see? That’s when one can see the ghosts. I need to get there without Lord Elliot hovering.”
Mrs Bloomfield raised an eyebrow. “But what if he proposes tonight?” She couldn’t resist teasing a little.
“Not now,” Lia groaned. “Please.”
Her friend relented. “It should be busy enough at the party. Perhaps I can recruit Hortense to distract him.” Mrs Bloomfield frowned at her. “And you must be careful, Camellia. Do you understand what’s at stake?”
Her reputation. Camellia nodded. “I know. I’ll be vigilant.”
Mrs Bloomfield sighed. “I don’t know what has possessed you, little Lia. Nor why I am inclined to let you go through with this, other than you’ve never been like this before. I will pray this will turn out well.”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs Bloomfield! Thank you, thank you!” said Camellia.
Camellia rested in her room under the watchful eye of her friend. She felt much better after a light meal brought to the room by a maid. And then it was time to get ready for the party.
The entire household and all the guests dressed with care for the holiday ball. Local residents started arriving around eight in the evening. The clear sky and the promise of a late rising near-full moon meant the party would likely go until nearly dawn.
Camellia put on her green velvet gown with the high waist, then added ivory gloves and soft leather dancing slippers. She did up her hair with a simple headdress consisting of one green feather tucked into a ribbon.
When she entered the ballroom, the crowd was already lively, but still growing. Younger guests, some dazzled by their first time inside Wyemont Castle, added to the din. Camellia was offered punch by several young men, but she declined, hoping to see Finn first. However, it was Elliot who found her and insisted on a dance. Camellia accepted, glad it was a country dance that offered little intimacy or chance to chat. Her gown revealed one disadvantage—in the busy crowd, she quickly grew warm and longed to find a quiet corner. She watched the clock as it inched toward midnight, feeling more and more anxious.
At an opportune time, Camellia slipped away from the bright and lively crowd, hoping Elliot’s ardent gaze was not on her as she left the room. Luckily, Hortense was making a fine distraction, and Lia prayed that Elliot would be captivated by her cousin’s vivacious charm.
Oh, why had she tried to do such a thing as pursue a marriage for the sake of security? Mrs Bloomfield had been right to warn her! She walked as quickly as she could through the hall and down the stairs to the Long Gallery, the area dividing the old part of the castle from the newer construction.
“Camellia,” a low voice spoke nearby.
“Finn!” she said, turning to see him standing there. A trick of the light made his jacket look silver, but when he stepped closer, she saw that was a light blue.
“You came.” His voice was warm, comforting in the darkness of the gallery.
“Of course I did.” She reached him and searched his face. “What is the matter with Mr Townsend? He’s been—”
“Mad is the word you’re looking for. He’s been a bit odd the past few days, but this morning, he was completely possessed. He threatened to shoot me if he saw us talking.”
