May 1826
Emma watched the dancers float around the floor from her vantage point near the lemonade. The dance floor had been constructed in the gardens of the estate; the starlit sky and the glow of lanterns added to the romantic atmosphere, and made all the more magical by the grace and beauty of the couples. The hosts even had performers twisting and twirling from lengths of silks from impossible heights. The entire evening was a spectacle of elegance and opulence.
She truly enjoyed watching as her friends danced with their husbands. Anna looked positively giddy as she danced with her fiancé, Lord Kristoff Arendelle. Meanwhile, Mary Margaret was dancing with her husband, Lord David Nolan. They looked every bit the love match she knew them to be.
Both David and Kristoff had danced with Emma this evening. It was the most she'd danced since her first ball. That was the night the eldest son of a baron, Lord Neal Cassidy made it known that Emma was to marry without a dowry.
Scandal followed quickly. Not only had she been forced to defend her own honor at her first ball, but the entire ton had learned she would marry with nothing. All of the men who had sought to court her disappeared as the scandal sheets published the story of her scandalous behavior while delighting over Lord Cassidy's gentlemanly reputation.
Her disgrace had been complete and decisive.
Still, Ingrid allowed her to join the following seasons as part of her family and Emma usually enjoyed the distractions. Especially on a night like tonight where performances abounded all around her. Masked balls like this were more entertaining simply because a gentleman might ask her to dance at least once.
Tonight, Emma's gown sparkled beneath the lights. She thought the gown looked like a stained glass creation featuring a single, silk rose at its center. Ingrid even had shining gold ribbons and roses braided into her long blonde hair. It was far too extravagant for her, but Lady Ingrid had insisted tonight.
Sipping her lemonade from the position she'd taken up as far from prying eyes as she could, Emma watched the elegant way everyone seemed to glide across the dance floor. She smiled as her friends glowed in their own happy bubbles and hoped that the shadows kept her hidden from her critics.
"Pardon me, my lady." A voice interrupted her thoughts and she spun to find a man dressed all in black with a red silk vest. He smiled behind his own mask. "I hoped I might have this dance? Unless the lady is already spoken for."
Emma hesitated, uncertain of her answer for such a man. "Of-of course, my lord. I would be happy to."
He took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor for the waltz. "Relax, love. There's only one rule - find a partner who knows what he's doing."
Her mysterious stranger gathered her close and led their waltz effortlessly, his brilliant smile contagious. His blue eyes filled with warmth as Emma felt their surroundings fade away.
"Do not mock me, sir." She tried to scowl as he chuckled at her.
"Perish the thought." He grinned at her. "I was just thinking what a natural you are." Heat rose in her cheeks and she ducked her head shyly. "May I claim all your dances tonight?"
"Does that make you a pirate tonight, Killian?" She teased.
He froze for a moment before tightening his hold on her. "What gave me away, Swan?"
"I'd know those elf ears anywhere." She tilted her head slightly. Swan?
His blush turned his ears pink, but he had yet to release her from his embrace. "You never answered my question."
It was her turn to blush. "There are three more dances at least." What on earth would people say? Or think? Truly, she didn't bother with what the ton thought of her, but what would such a thing do to him? "But everyone will assume…" Emma trailed off and bit her lip
He brushed a kiss to her knuckles. "I am not worried about the ton as much as I am about what you think."
"Killian…" she whispered.
"I missed you, Swan. The entire time I was away, all I could think about was you." He brought her hand to his heart and kept his eyes on hers.
It had been several years since she had laid eyes on Viscount Jones, not since before he inherited the title. There had been many rumors, but none had done justice to the intoxicating man holding her so close. She finally gave a slight nod and his hand squeezed hers.
"I'm to join you on the picnic?" Emma asked Ingrid the following morning. "But I thought I was allowed to leave for the country today."
Ingrid smiled over her tea. "That was before you danced three times with the same man. Everyone saw you."
"I told you. It was only Killian." Emma sighed, remembering how useless it was to argue when Ingrid gave her that look. She returned upstairs to dress for a promenade instead of traveling back to Ingrid's country estate.
She picked a navy and cream gown before her hair was styled properly. After the disaster of the last few seasons, she had expected last night to end this ridiculous charade. This year should have solidified her place on the shelf. No suitor in possession of all his faculties wanted to court her.
Previous seasons had shattered her heart. Empty parlors, lonely walks through the park, ball after endless ball standing apart from the happy dancers. Emma knew she couldn't go through it again. She had finally set her mind to her new life.
Emma took her seat beside Ingrid once they were at the park and watched the ducks gliding through the water. "Miss Frost?" Someone called and Emma nearly jumped.
Lord Jefferson removed his hat and smiled at her, "I hoped to escort you this morning? It's a lovely day."
Emma glanced at Lady Ingrid quickly before accepting. "Certainly, my lord."
Her mind spun as they walked side by side down the path. All eyes turned in their direction and she felt more self-conscious than she thought herself capable.
Lord Jefferson was tall and dressed in brighter colors than she typically did, but he was kind and a gentleman. His wife had been one of Emma's dear friends before she died giving birth to their only child, Grace.
"Would you care to join me on the boats?" He asked her.
Her mind had been so occupied that she didn't see their destination. "That sounds lovely," she answered quickly, pulling her attention back to her companion.
The water and distance from the prying eyes of the ton helped her relax more. She and Jefferson were friends of a sort and she was delighted to listen to all of his new stories of Grace. Her mood had lifted considerably by the time they arrived back at the shore.
Someone reached a hand down for her and a strong grip held her firmly. When she looked up, she was surprised to see the man holding her was Killian. He stood with his jaw clenched so tightly that she saw a tiny muscle jump. The dark expression on his face was in sharp contrast to the gentle and familiar hand on her waist.
What on earth was this about?
"Jones! You're back." Jefferson smiled and accepted Killian's offered assistance. "I'd heard a rumor, but I preferred to see for myself."
Once on shore, Jefferson clasped Killian's hand."We must have a drink at our club to celebrate your return." He smiled at his friend and offered his arm to Emma. "Miss Frost, may I see you back to your family?"
Emma felt Killian's fingers tighten against her waist before his arm dropped, leaving her feeling somehow cold without his touch. She accepted Jefferson's arm and returned to her Aunt. Jefferson began telling her stories from his days with Killian at Eton. As he told a particularly lively story involving a goat they'd snuck into the dormitories, Emma couldn't help but laugh aloud.
A splash sounded from the lake and Emma turned to see Killian's head break the surface of the water as he spluttered. Jefferson ran over to assist his friend and Emma hurried behind them. Killian ripped his coat and cravat off and tossed them onto the dock before heaving himself out of the water.
Her breath caught and she felt her cheeks burn as she watched the shirt cling to his firm body. His finely tailored shirt left little to her imagination. Tight muscles and dark chest hair were visible through the wet fabric and she quickly looked down to avoid being caught, but her fingers itched with the need to feel his strength for herself.
As Jefferson went to fetch the carriage and a dry coat for him, Emma kept her eyes on the water running down his sodden boots. "Are you alright, my lord?" She asked under her breath.
"I'm perfectly fine." He snapped back before sighing. "I'm sorry, Swan. I appreciate your concern, but the only thing wounded is my pride." Somehow, he drew nearer to her without even moving. "And I'm never my lord. Not to you," he whispered.
"That's not proper." She whispered back.
"I don't give a damn about any opinions outside your own."
Her eyes snapped up to catch the fire behind his blue eyes."You're looking rather flushed, love. Are you quite alright?"
Emma cleared her throat and averted her eyes. "Yes, thank you. I was merely concerned about you."
"Worried I'll catch a chill and need nursing?" His voice lowered to nearly a rumble that she could feel all the way to her toes. When had he started speaking to her like that?
"I was distracted when you laughed so easily. My intent was not to cause you concern."
All words escaped her. She bobbed a quick curtsey and focused on not running all the way back to Aunt Ingrid's home in the country. Perhaps she could convince her aunt to leave for the country in an hour's time. Anything - anything - to escape the prying eyes of the ton. Or maybe just the blue eyes she could still feel staring at her.
Once Emma returned home with her aunt, she escaped to her room and locked the door after complaining of a rather bad headache. She leaned on the door and tried to remember how to breathe properly.
As she paced around her room, feeling as nervous as a cat, Ingrid reminded her that they were to have dinner with Nemo. Which meant that she would be dining with Killian as well.
Naturally, Ingrid had placed Emma and Killian beside each other while her sisters sat with their husbands. "Are you quite recovered from the afternoon?" Killian asked her politely.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" She bit her lip when she caught herself calling him my lord again.
"I found my thoughts more agreeably engaged. Are you not pleased to be seated beside me?" He grinned at her when she cut her eyes at him.
"Are you certain your reputation can take it?" She asked as she straightened her shoulders.
"Would you ask that if Jeff were seated beside you?" His tone sounded far more soured at the mention of Jefferson.
"No," she replied and immediately regretted her quick reply. "He has not been away these past seasons. He's been fully aware of my…history."
"The nonsense with Cassidy?" Emma's hand slipped over her knife. "Cassidy felt the need to discuss it with me when I arrived at the club."
A chill washed over her. If Neal had said something, there was nothing for it. Killian knew how ruined she was now. She took a sip of her wine and tried to control the way she began shaking as the memories returned to torment her.
"Oh, Killian," Ingrid spoke up. "I forgot to mention, Mrs. Potts prepared a blackberry pie in honor of your return."
"Splendid." Killian smiled at her. "She remembered it was my favorite."
Emma waited until they finished dinner and excused herself for the evening. Claiming a headache, she didn't bother waiting on Nemo or Killian to join them in the sitting room. The only person she had hoped to be unaware of her scandal and he already knew. Why hadn't Ingrid allowed her to leave when she'd asked?
Emma was permitted a week's reprieve from the events Ingrid wished for her to attend. She suspected her aunt of having ulterior motives, but they had yet to be revealed. That is, until the modiste showed up with a delivery.
Ingrid and her lady's maid came into Emma's room without so much as a knock.
"Emma! I'm so glad you're feeling better, dear."
"Uh, yes." She watched as her aunt pulled a gown from the box. "What…"
"This is what you're wearing tonight." Ingrid smiled innocently. "Killian will be there as will Prince Ali of Agrabah."
With a groan, Emma turned to face her. "Must I?"
"Yes." Ingrid replied with a regal nod.
The gown was far more elaborate than anything Emma had ever worn. It was silver silk with glittering details that looked much more like a princess should wear instead of…her.
By the time she was ready for the ball, she could hardly recognize the woman in the mirror. Her hair was in sleek curls with the family diamonds, making it sparkle like gold.
Ingrid escorted her to the ball at the Nolan estate that evening. It felt as though her stomach had filled with a thousand butterflies, all of them ready to burst from her at any moment. She hadn't been this nervous during her first ball. This…feeling with Killian was only growing worse. It unnerved her.
What was worse, she hated that he probably thought ill of her after hearing about her disgrace. Could she truly face a world where Killian thought of her as the rest of the ton did?
"Emma, darling, you'll be the evening star tonight." Ingrid said with a wistful smile a moment before she took her arm and nearly dragged her from the room.
Her black cloak had been lined with the same silk as her dress and Emma could only hope that it helped her stay in the shadows for as long as possible. Truly, she didn't wish to draw so much attention to herself.
To her astonishment, Killian stood at her carriage to help her out of it. His eyes widened and that curious muscle in his jaw twitched as if his control were costing him dearly. Of course it must pain him to have to keep up the ruse of friendship. Emma tried to dissolve into her cloak as she accepted his hand.
The heat from his hand was almost enough to make her pull away. His grip tightened on her hand until the footmen led them down to the ballroom. Emma was next in line, and as the footman removed her cloak, she could feel every eye on her. She looked across the crowd to find an anchor when she caught Killian's gaze. The heat in his eyes nearly setting her skin ablaze, burning her from across the dance floor.
Ingrid made the usual rounds with her as they greeted the hosts. Looking around at the brilliant designs and intricate gowns around her, she felt less conspicuous as she began to mill about the room. Thankfully, Killian was engaged with some of the young ladies and she only had to avoid the odd way he kept staring in her direction.
The guest of honor appeared through the crowd with Ingrid beside him. Prince Ali was handsome, but dressed in the bold colors of his home land with gold embroidery he was even more striking with his dark eyes and bold smile. Emma curtsied politely to him and felt her cheeks turn pink.
"My dear, may I introduce his Royal Highness Prince Ali?" Ingrid smiled proudly. "Your Highness, this is my niece, Miss Emma Frost."
"I believe you outshine the stars themselves, Miss Swan." Prince Ali bent over her hand and kissed the back of it. "I asked your aunt to introduce us so that I might ask for a dance this evening?"
Emma paused and tried not to gape at the man like a fish out of water. "I'd be honored, Your Highness." She finally managed.
He signed her dance card and looked up at her with a roguish wink. "It is my honor, Miss Swan." The prince returned to his party, leaving Emma feeling quite bewildered.
When she looked down, he had requested two of her dances tonight. Two dances? With a prince? Emma went in search of the refreshment table. However she'd not taken two steps when Jefferson bowed to her with two glasses in his hand.
"Miss Emma, I hope it's not too bold of me to offer you a glass of lemonade tonight?" He dipped his head and smiled gently.
She let out a short breath. "As a matter of fact, I find your gesture quite fortuitous. I was about to go in search of a glass myself." Accepting the glass, she took a ladylike sip, hoping it would help cool her face down.
"Might I also claim a dance tonight?" He asked before inclining his head closer to her. "I believe there's quite the line of gentlemen hoping to catch your interest tonight."
"Why?" She whispered. "It must be some joke I'm to learn of later, I suppose."
He tilted his head at her. "I've not heard of such a thing. I hope you do not believe that's why I came over."
Emma smiled apologetically up at him. "No, of course not." She let her smile shift into a smirk. "For no other reason than so you can remain an example of a gentleman for Gracie."
Jefferson laughed quietly at that. "I can't have her thinking she must find a rake, can I?"
"She certainly must know there are other gentlemen to choose from." Emma agreed. Her friend's past shenanigans as a rake had faded from sight as soon as he had married. She was quite proud of how he had stepped in as the only parent to a precocious young girl. Grace was beautiful inside and out and Emma attributed much of that to her father.
He touched her hand as he signed her dance card. "I won't allow them to do anything untoward, Emma."
His whispered promise loosened a knot in her chest. "Thank you, Jefferson."
His blue eyes cut behind her and he gave the devilish smile she hadn't seen since his bachelor days. Before she knew it, he held her hand up and brushed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes closed when she realized what the traitor had just done.
"Emma?" Killian's voice sounded rough and…angry? Surely that wasn't jealousy?
She turned to him and felt unsteady as she curtsied. His eyes were dark and he was holding himself still. "Are you enjoying your evening, Killian?" Her words were hesitant. What could he mean by standing like this? It was too intimate for the dance floor, but something was holding him back. Realizing it was probably her, she dropped her eyes.
It had always been too easy to get caught in his gaze.
"Not as much as I'd hoped to." He cleared his throat and gently picked up her hand to write on her dance card. "Bloody bastard." He whispered. "I believe your dance partner will be looking for you."
When he withdrew, Emma opened her dance card, grateful Mary Margaret had chosen these to be used as fans as well. It was decorated with delicate silver filigree and tiny pearl birds. The prince had claimed her first dance and her third. Jefferson claimed her second, while Killian took her last two. Prince Ali and Jefferson had claimed both waltzes.
Was that why Killian had cursed?
Prince Ali opened the dance with her. Emma felt everyone staring once more, but each turn she caught a glimpse of Killian's face. Had she done something wrong?
"Miss Swan?" The Prince interrupted her musings. "I do not not wish to give the wrong impression." His smile was suddenly shy and boyish.
She grinned at him. "I have made no assumptions yet, Your Highness."
"I truly wished to make your acquaintance and dance with you. I'm told you're the most graceful partner on the dance floor."
Emma tried to hide her shock. "Goodness. Who would bestow such a compliment?"
"Viscount Jones." He smiled. "I hoped to make him jealous for a moment and engage your aid, if you're willing?"
"And what is it you need my help with?" Her head was spinning. Killian? Of course he would compliment her dancing, if asked. But jealous?
"Lady Jasmine," he paused, looking shy once more.
"A lady would never betray a friend, Your Highness." Emma teased for a moment. "What help are you hoping to receive?"
He gave her the same blinding smile as before. "I'd like to get her something special. Not flowers and I'm ashamed to say my poetry skills are not fit for human ears."
She bit back a laugh, but she knew he could see it. "I find that wise men are the ones who can admit such a thing. What kind of 'something' are you considering?"
"In my home, it is the custom to gift an animal or jewelry, but would that be too forward?" He asked her.
"May I be so bold to ask you your intentions? Jasmine is a dear friend and I hate to give you intimate information only for her to have a broken heart." Emma knew exactly what he should get, but she needed to know this was important to him as well and not a show of wealth.
"If she would allow it? I'd ask for her hand." He admitted. "But she has yet to allow me to pay her a call."
"Jasmine is not impressed by displays of pomposity." She arched an eyebrow. "Wait for the jewelry, but if she gives you a chance, I may have an idea for you."
He looked relieved as they went into the next turn. Emma was so focused on her friend's happiness, she'd quite forgotten to look for Killian. By the time their dance ended, Prince Ali looked quite pleased with Emma's suggestion.
Before Jefferson could claim her second dance, Killian took her hand and led her to the dance floor. "This dance is claimed, Killian." She whispered.
He took his place behind her and closed the respectable distance between them. "Would you prefer Jeff? Or the prince?" His voice sounded tight.
When she finally saw his face, his eyes seemed to burn with whatever emotion had been simmering all evening. "Everyone-"
"Do you wish to dance with me?" He asked in a clipped tone. She finally nodded and he maneuvered them closer. "Then keep your eyes on me and don't worry about them."
This dance felt far more intimate than it had any right to on the dance floor. She was lost. It would hurt tomorrow when she couldn't have him, but tonight, she would let herself drown in his eyes as he carried her across the dance floor.