Chapter 33
***
"Miss Peildon, it's me."
A polite knock sounded on the dressing room door, followed by the voice of a maid from the theater troupe helping with the transformation.
"Come in."
Christine, seated at her dressing table, removing her earrings, answered calmly. Soon, a maid holding a bouquet of red roses appeared in the mirror.
"This is from the Count of Mason, who wishes to escort you to your home, if you don't mind, Miss Peildon."
"Please decline."
In a calm voice, without a hint of distress, Christine declined the Count’s favor. He was an enthusiastic audience who attended every performance, but she had no intention of accepting anything approaching obsessive attention.
"Very well, and these are roses from Count Bryan Carter, and this bouquet and the invitation to the art exhibition are from..................."
By the time the maid had finished, the reception table was piled high with bunches of roses.
"Well, there's going to be a frenzy after the show. There's a long line of gentlemen and reporters at the front door, all wanting to see Miss Peildon."
The maid, excited at the prospect of another day's fresh roses, stepped up to the mirror and began to pull out Christine's hairpins, one by one, as she watched Christine's face.
The heroine who had caused such a stir outside the theater was serene.
Her thick eyelashes were slightly lowered as she was taking off her earrings, and her appearance was calm and elegant. The maid, gazing at the scene, suddenly had a thought.
"Ah, yes! Mr. Thompson tells me that the carriage Miss Peildon booked has arrived at the back door. Did you call for a carriage? Well, I didn't know that, and the Count of Mason went to all that trouble for nothing."
"...."
Christine's fingers stopped abruptly as she fiddled with the rhinestone earring in her left earlobe. The unusually talkative maid rattled off a string of rumors about Count Mason that fell on deaf ears.
Why did an unannounced carriage come….
Her fingertips instinctively tingled.
Christine had never booked a carriage, and the Duke of Deimos would have sent Lady Nora, as he always did.
In the thick scent of roses, she suddenly remembered Daisy's words.
"Fiona has been suspiciously quiet lately, hasn’t she?”
She was not one to be satisfied with spreading malicious rumors.
What could she be up to?
Her turquoise eyes were dark in the faint glow of the lamp. Christine slowly opened her clenched palm.
The wound where the shard of water glass had punctured was fading.
******
Exhaled, Christine opened the iron gate.
Just as the maid had told her, a carriage was parked in front of the back gate.
A black four-wheeled carriage, a huge black horse with white breath, and a black-robed coachman standing at attention like a soldier.
It was eerie, as if it were part of the darkness.
Could this really be Fiona Bennett's trap?
An eerie sense of unease crept into her collar with the cold winter wind.
"Are you Miss Peildon?"
The black veil hid her face, and the man wanted to confirm her identity. Christine gently lifted the veil and made eye contact with the man.
"I'm Christine Peildon.”
"I've been ordered to bring you Miss Peildon."
"By whom?"
Straightening her neck and back, Christine tried to hide her shivering as best she could.
Up close, the man's cheeks and the tip of his nose were frozen red, as if he'd been waiting a long time in the cold. He turned up the collar of his black coat slightly.
In the dim light of the gas lamps, the golden badge on his breastplate caught her eye. It was a mark she'd seen before, when she'd attended the court banquet. A silver star encircling a crown, symbolizing the Royal Guard.
Arthur Ernst von Maximilian.
The sight of the dazzling insignia brought to mind the face of the Crown Prince.
Christine felt dazed.
"..................why would he send for me?"
"I’m only doing what I’m ordered."
Christine gazed for a moment at the treetops, lit by gas lamps. Through the bare branches, she could see the windows of the second-floor dressing room. Coincidentally, it was where the Crown Prince had stood on the day she first took the lead role of Camellia.
Her heart, which had fluttered the first time she saw him, was now fluttering for an entirely different reason.
Three thousand pounds.
As Christine remembered, it had been a lunch voucher given to the winning bidder at the Duke of Deimos's charity auction.
"He's waiting for you."
The man’s low voice urged Christine to hurry.
What kind of man spent that much money on a lunch date?
She wanted to turn around and run, but she couldn't outrun the man with the very long legs, so she climbed into the black carriage with its understated ornamentation.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the bountiful bunches of gardenias on the deep navy blue velvet seats across from her. The flowers were unusually fresh and fragrant today, and it made Christine uneasy.
The carriage sped off down the frozen road.
Her heart was beating faster than the hooves.
***
She saw a dim light in the distance.
Her nerves tightened.
The moonlight, falling through the tiny branches of the trees, reflected white on the snowy trail. Misty flakes of snow drifted across the carriage windows as it slowed to a crawl.
The outline of the lit mansion grew clearer and clearer in the darkness of the mountains. The carriage was now turning into the driveway to the mansion.
Christine tore her gaze away from the window.
It's okay.
She clasped her hands together and repeated the words over and over again, like a mantra to herself.
Meanwhile, the carriage stopped.
Christine, her hair meticulously arranged, pulled down the veil of her hat for the last time and cradled a bunch of gardenias in her arms. She took a deep breath, and the sweet scent of the flowers enveloped her.
If it was inevitable, it was inevitable...................
Cautiously, the carriage door opened and Christine stepped out. The cold, eerie air of the deep woods on a winter's night washed over her face.
All around was dead silence, and the huge, minimally lit mansion looked eerily deserted in the chill air. It felt lonely, as if it had been left in the dark for years.
The splendor of the Bern Palace was nowhere to be seen.
Christine looked up at the second-floor window, the only source of light.
There he was.
The man who had bid the highest price ever for her.
***
The bedroom door opened soundlessly.
Arthur lifted the cigar in his hand to the corner of his mouth. His gaze remained fixed on the woman walking through the open door.
Through the smoke that he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, he could see a shabby, out-of-style coat, a brush and gloves in the same color scheme, and even a hat with a black veil.
Dressed exactly like the woman he glimpsed in the carriage exiting the cathedral.
The woman walked across the silence with careful steps, like treading water, and bent her knees, lifting the hem of her dark gray skirt slightly to reveal black shoes.
Her tiny feet wobbled slightly, unable to hide their nervousness.
The woman cleared her throat and slowly lifted her veil. A slender, straight neck and neatly pressed crimson lips. A rounded nose. One green eye after another was revealed in the light.
She lowered her gaze politely, but even at a glance, it was not a favorable one.
Arthur took the cigarette between his slightly twisted lips and inhaled the smoke.
"Thank you for accepting my invitation. Make yourself comfortable, Miss Peildon."
What kind of gentleman invited a lady in such a rude manner? To the Crown Prince, it was only because she was not a lady.
Sitting across from the Crown Prince, Christine coughed lightly at the white smoke that rose silently toward the ceiling.
After watching her for a moment, the Crown Prince pressed his loosely clenched cigar into the ashtray and extinguished it.
"A drink."
Placing the whiskey-filled glass in front of her, the Crown Prince's demeanor was as smooth and relaxed as the flames. Staring at the clear ice floating atop the amber liquid, Christine spoke up.
"I was told that the meal tickets for the charity auction were for lunch only."
"You wanted to dine with me?"
The Crown Prince's lips curled as he glanced at Christine. It was a gentle smile that didn't quite match his sarcastic tone.
"I thought Your Highness was an honorable gentleman who adhered to the rules of society."
Green eyes stare back at him, unwavering. A mixture of nervousness and fear in those eyes, and Arthur's nerves, which had been on edge, dulled slightly.
"Do you think I won the bid for a meal?"
He asked, flicking his bangs out of the way.
The eyes peeking out from behind the golden locks showed no emotion, only the depth of a blue, cold winter sea.
***
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