Odette alighted from the carriage feeling like a princess. Rutger escorted her up a few steps to the castle entrance. She might have imagined it, but the servants at the entrance seemed to open their eyes a little wider and let their gaze linger when they saw Odette.
Was her headdress too elaborate? Had her mask become askew? She reached up and put her hand on the mask, but it seemed to be in its proper place.
Once inside, they joined a line of guests waiting to greet the Margrave of Thornbeck.
The other ladies also wore masks. The woman in front of her wore a bright blue-green mask with elaborate designs on the sides to imitate the tail feathers of a peacock. She wore a headdress of real peacock feathers that matched the mask.
The men wore very fine clothing, but only a few others besides Rutger were wearing costumes. One was dressed like an Indian sultan, another like a Roman senator, and another like a Far Eastern Mongol.
Odette caught a glimpse of a man who stood talking with the margrave. The back of his head reminded her of Jorgen. He was dressed in a fine brocaded cotehardie of various shades of blue and gold that came below his hips. The sleeves were slit in several places all the way down his arms, showing white linen underneath. White ermine cuffs accented the wrists, hem, and shoulders of the outer garment. He also wore a felt hat with a peaked brim and a feather.
Just as he finished speaking with the margrave, he turned and smiled at Odette. Her breath caught in her throat at how good he looked.
A moment later, he was hidden from view as a large man wearing an enormous turban moved between them. When the man was finally out of her line of vision, Jorgen was gone.
When Odette and Rutger were face-to-face with the margrave, she was struck by how young and handsome he looked. The margrave was not at all the boorish former knight she had imagined. His hair was dark and slightly wavy, his eyes brown, and his cheekbones high. He was tall and broad shouldered, and he looked them in the eye as Ulrich, the chancellor, read their names from their invitation and introduced them.
Pity squeezed her heart at the way he leaned on his cane, no doubt due to his injury when the west wing of Thornbeck Castle burned. Odette and Rutger made the appropriate greeting, and the margrave said the proper acknowledgments, and they moved on to allow him to greet the guests waiting behind them.
Now they were just outside the ballroom, and there was Jorgen, waiting for them. He smiled with his eyes as he watched her, the corners of his mouth tilting up. But as Rutger stepped ahead of her, Jorgen greeted her uncle first, who paused to converse with him.
Odette could hardly concentrate on what they were saying as she stared at Jorgen—clean-shaven, skin browned by the sun, his blond hair perfectly in place, the bright blue of his waistcoat contrasting with the white of his shirtsleeves. His eyes had never looked brighter as he turned from Rutger and smiled.
Jorgen reached out to her and, moving as if in a dream, she placed her hand in his. He raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
She had been kissed on the hand numerous times before and never felt a thing. So why did his lips on her skin send a tingle through her, across her shoulders and down her back?
“Odette, you are the most beautiful swan I have ever seen.” He held out his arm to her.
“Thank you. And you are the most handsome prince I have ever seen.”
The humor returned to his eyes as they made their way inside the ballroom. “For one night only. These clothes must be returned tomorrow to their rightful owner.”
“It is not the clothing of a man that makes him a prince.”
His smile grew wider. “You are very clever tonight, as well as very beautiful.”
“How do you know I am beautiful? My face is covered by a mask.”
“Only half of your face. I know what the other half looks like.” He gazed down at her, his eyes mesmerizing. “And it is beautiful.”
“I never took you for a flatterer, Jorgen. You will make me think more of myself than I should.”
“I do not think that’s likely.”
The musicians and singers began a lively tune as Jorgen and Odette entered the ballroom.
“Will you tell me who is here?” Odette spoke near Jorgen’s ear. “I am afraid I hardly know anyone except you.”
“I will do my best. I believe the woman with the red dress is the Duchess of Peisterberg, and the young woman with her, wearing the blue mask, is her daughter.”
How exciting it would be to meet a duchess! Or a duchess’s daughter. They both had feathers on their masks, which were even larger and more elaborate than her own. “Their gowns and masks look lovely.”