“What happened when you were on the streets? Where did you live?” she whispered.
He had to swallow before he could answer. “My sister was much younger than me. I had to take care of her. We slept in people’s courtyards and gardens behind their houses when the weather was good. When it was cold or rainy, we slept in the wealthier people’s stables. After Helena died, my father, the gamekeeper, found me one day, sick and lying in a little shelter I had made in the woods.” He didn’t like thinking about that time, how helpless he had felt. He had never told anyone any of this except his adoptive parents. But somehow it felt good to tell her.
Odette took his other hand in hers, and now she was holding both of his hands. After a short pause, she said, “When my father and mother died, the neighbors took me in. I was only five, but they made me empty chamber pots and scrub floors. They only fed me twice a day, and they gave me only pea pottage and black bread.”
Odette stared down at their joined hands while she talked. “I sometimes went through people’s garbage. Once I stole a meat pie from a nearby house. I shared it with another orphan I knew. And I sometimes asked other neighbors for food. The way they looked at me made me feel lowly and despised.”
He hated that she had felt those feelings, and yet it bonded them together. She understood what he had been through because she had experienced the same things. For the first time in his life, he could see that the pain he felt could have a purpose.
Already very near to him, she moved a bit closer. He disengaged his hand and touched her face. Her skin was like silk, and he let his fingers glide along her jawline. Her lips parted, and he noticed the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed more rapidly. His own breath felt shallow and raspy. He leaned down. Before he could let his reason take over, he pressed his lips against hers.
A tiny sound escaped her throat, and his mind seemed to leave him entirely. He cupped her cheek in his hand and pulled her mouth full against his.
Even though her hands slipped around his neck, she had not responded to his kiss. He pulled back. The sight of her closed eyelids and parted lips was too much for his weak restraint, and he kissed her again.
She put her hands on both sides of his face and started to kiss him back. He let urgency overtake him. Was this happening? If not, it was the best dream he’d ever had. So sweet . . . so sweet.
Wait. What would she think of him? He had no right to kiss her.
He pulled away. She laid her head against his shoulder. Dear, sweet saints. If the feathers in her mask and headdress hadn’t been tickling his cheek, it would have been a perfect moment.
“Odette. I have been looking for you.”
She stepped away from him, pressing her hands against her face.
He turned to see Rutger standing at the other end of the balcony, and Jorgen blinked to clear his thoughts. Would her uncle be furious? He had every right to be.
“Jorgen. Odette. The ball is inside.”
“Yes, of course, Herr Menkels,” Jorgen said.
“Odette, I have some people I want you to meet.”
But instead of going with her uncle, she took hold of Jorgen’s arm. “We are coming.”
She held on with both hands, and Rutger waited for them to catch up. “I want you to meet the Duchess of Peisterberg,” he said to Odette, not including Jorgen, “and Lady Augenhalt, as well as Lady Keiperdorf.”
Jorgen might not be able to speak to her again the rest of the night, now that Rutger was taking her over.
Instead of responding to Rutger’s conversation, she looked up at Jorgen, her eyes startlingly blue and luminous, as if there were tears in them. O Father God, have I made her cry?
But perhaps he was imagining it, for when Rutger was not looking, she pressed her cheek against his arm before moving away and joining Rutger. As they passed from the gallery into the ballroom, she looked back at him, her eyes wide and a tender smile on her perfect lips.
Jorgen stopped in the doorway and whispered, “How can I ever win her? What must I do? What must I do to ever be worthy of her?”
Odette felt as if she were floating. She could still feel Jorgen’s lips on hers, could still see the vulnerability in his eyes. He had been reluctant to speak of his past, but his trust had touched her heart. And he understood. He had the same painful memories of childhood that she had. And unlike the children she taught, he had been saved by the gamekeeper and his wife, just as she had been saved by Rutger. And now, in just the same way as she felt driven to save the orphaned and poor children from going hungry, he felt driven to save others, like Kathryn, from the cruelties of oppression.