My Sweet Daisy

Chapter 9 - May I have the Next Dance?

Chapter 9

May I have the next dance?

She chortled. She seemed to laugh whenever she was momentarily out of words. "I suppose I am a little. I was hoping to make his acquaintance, as a matter of fact, and couldn't believe I'd be fortunate enough to see him at my very first ball when my cousins informed me he'd be putting in appearance. Hearing what was said about him today, though, I'm doubtful I'll ever meet him. It appears the prince hardly comes out of the palace. All I need is a brief look at him to come up with a good painting of him."

"A good painting? Are you merely seeking out the prince to get a painting of him or should I interpret this abnormal need as infatuation?"

"Oh no, the painting is not for me." She gave a startled laugh. "You see, my sister, Lily, made me promise her a painting of the prince she can hold dear forever. She was so envious she couldn't make her debut with me, and of course, meet Prince Richard. She's fifteen. Father said she is too young to come along; after a year or two, maybe. Lily asked me to do the painting as a favor. She's smitten by him, you see. I could've extorted a good exchange from her with that painting; perhaps a month of doing my share of the household chores when I go back home without a suitor."

"You'll be in big trouble if you make a painting of a member of the royal family for such purposes, I hope you are aware of that."

"Will you report me to the authorities, sir?" she snorted impertinently. "I'm not giving it to her in exchange of money, so it'll be difficult for you to prove your case if I say it's merely meant to be a gift for her in a court of law."

"Trust me, Miss Daisy, my word against yours will be gold." She laughed out loud, and he chuckled. "What can I extort from you if I help you get a brief look at the prince?"

"Can you really help me meet him?" she sounded hopeful when she made the request. She must have figured he held such power as to arrange a meeting with the prince, or he was very close to the prince.

"Nothing is impossible when one puts his mind to it. I can even ask him to put his seal on every painting you make." he drawled.

Her eyes lit up and he could almost hear her mind working furiously behind her wide-eyed stare. "What would you take from me?" she asked warily, half afraid he would demand something outrageously high.

"Join me for a ride. I promise to let you gaze at Prince Richard to your heart content."

Relief and unsuppressed curiosity fiddled on her face for a full minute. "Are you serious?"

"I don't make promises I have no intention of keeping, Miss. Meet me at ten o'clock in the morning at the park the day after tomorrow. I guarantee the prince will be waiting for you there."

"I have__" she paused before she revealed her first lesson with a ballroom dance instructor had been scheduled on the same day at o'clock. What is the use of a dance lesson when she knew she would be as terrible at it as she had been in all the ones her mother arranged for her? Miss Peverell, her last instructor, had screeched at her mother in frustration the only words Daisy had agreed with her on, right before she quit, 'Daisy is tone deaf and stiff legged. It's a waste of time teaching her.' Could she sneak out before the new Miss Othnael came... her green eyes sparkled with mischief. Her aunt would have one of her fits, for sure, and no doubt she would be severely scolded but meeting the prince while avoiding a dance instructor was too tantalizing an opportunity to let it pass by. "Ten o'clock is perfect."

"Then I'd send a request to Lady Perribea early tomorrow morning to notify her."

"No need," she said quickly. "My aunt will have no objection if my handmaid accompanies me. Is the park a place the prince hangs around often?"

"Occasionally," he shrugged. "I have a second demand."

"What is it?"

"Let me have the next dance?"

"Why? Didn't you say you have no wish to be seen? Won't going to the dance floor be the same as announcing your presence?"

"We'll go outside, away from this, where no one will see us."

Daisy had always been impulsive and more times than she cared to admit, it had gotten her into trouble. 'Be careful and don't fraternize with strangers without Robert's or Veronica's consent', her father had instructed. So, what was she doing heartily chatting with one like she had known him all her life, and a weird one who wore a hat indoors and hid away when a ball was being held in his own house?

She stole a quick glance at him as she brought her fan to her face. Underneath the long dark lashes, his eyes looked pale and greyish. His cheekbone was finely chiseled but looked youthful. They tapered down to a firm chin which must be used to being trusted in the air with obstinacy. His nose was straight and long, pointed but without a trace of the ridge denoting muscularity and arrogance in aristocrats most girls admired, but the perfect build for his boyish face, she thought. She sighed with some relief. The stranger was merely a boy; perhaps even younger than she had imagined and unless he was a puppet for someone she should really fear, she believed she wouldn't be in any real danger in his company.

"We would quietly slip out into the gardens. I know of a spot the Grand Duke himself doesn't know exists in his castle. It has been my place of solitude in since I was a boy. Shall we?"

She sighed regretfully, disheartened she would have to let the opportunity to see the prince pass by. "I'm sorry but I don't dance." One of his brows shot up slightly in surprise which made her avert her eyes. "I don't know how. One or two of the gentlemen in the hall would attest to this fact. It's the reason I'm hiding in the first place. I have stepped on enough toes for this evening."

"You do know courtesy demands if I offer my hand now, you'd be obliged to place yours in it if you have no intention of making me look like a fool?"

"Come now, sir, no one is in here but us."

"I'm dying to step out of this room and with you by my side me, it would be easier to do so while pretending to be a couple going for a night stroll. Please don't make me drag you out." He stood up and bowed before her and took her arm when she didn't offer hers and did drag her out of the room, down the staircase to the outhouse.

Richard took a long breath in satisfaction when they were finally out. The early morning air was cool and refreshing, and after hours of sitting, it felt heavenly. It was still dark outside enough to shield them from the few they heard walking by every now and then.

In the brighter lantern lights, Daisy openly surveyed the stranger she was clinging onto. He was a little taller than what she had assumed to be while he had been seated, making him look even less intimidating as the extra height made him look slender in his suit. When he laid off the hat at the outskirts of the flower garden, she gaped openly at the golden strands of hair on his head. A curl hair fell over his high forehead and landed between his eyes; eyes she now realized were blue like a clear summer sky. Lord Brookshire had been golden-haired, and both his children had his fair hair color and his blue eye. Was he the twelve-year-old pretending to be older?

"Tell me your age," she demanded, a little infuriated that she couldn't place it.

"Is my age relevant?"

"You, sir, appear to be a weaning boy and my goal for the next six months is to attract the attention of men who can offer me a marriage proposal. It'd be a pity if I wasted a dance on a boy who is too young to court me afterwards." She watched in astonishment as he dissolved into a hearty laugh. When he did so, his eyes cringed at the sides, a tiny dimple twinkled boyishly in his left cheek and his age dropped even more.

"You fooled me, Miss Daisy. You are into this husband-hunting season after all," he chuckled. "Be assured that I am old enough to court you, if I'm hands-bounded to do so because of this dance." As the music of the next song drifted to them through the flower petals, he held out his hand. "Come, take my hand." She nervously did. "Step closer. Take a deep breath, take one step, and don't look down at your feet. Relax and let your feet move to the music. Keep your eyes on mine." She smiled as she easily followed his steps, waltzing round and round the green-grass carpeted ground.

"Tell me your name at least" she whispered.

"I'm Richard Collins Rowland Alexander Felix. My very close associates call me Richard."