Once he reached the balcony, Odette stood at the far end, staring out at the night. As he walked toward her, she turned her head and smiled that seductive smile again. Then she turned all the way around to face him, leaning back against the railing.
“Odette.” He swallowed again as he gathered his courage. “I think you must have noticed how I take every chance to be with you, even though I know your uncle doesn’t think a forester is good enough for you. But I love you, Odette, and I will do anything to make you my wife.”
She stepped closer to him, grasped his shoulders, pressing close, tilting her lips up to his. How could he resist bending down to kiss her?
Just as he was about to do just that, she whispered in a strange, hoarse voice, “What did you say?”
“I said, I love you. I want to marry you. Please marry me.”
21
ODETTE STAYED CLOSE to the wall as she made her way through the ballroom. A few people noticed her and stared, no doubt wondering why she was not wearing a mask. She kept moving, thinking she saw Rutger up ahead.
The man turned. It was Rutger. She went toward him, hoping to catch his eye. But Mathis approached him and said something close to his ear, and then they both moved toward the gallery where she and Jorgen had gone before. They disappeared through the doorway.
Odette hurried toward the gallery and slipped inside. Softly she called, “Rutger.” But as her eyes became accustomed to the lower light, she saw him at the other end of the gallery, slipping out onto the balcony.
How frustrating. He probably didn’t even know where her mask was, but she didn’t know who else to ask or what else to do, so she kept going.
Someone was speaking out on the balcony. The closer she got, the more convinced she was that it was Jorgen. Was he asking Rutger for permission to marry her? Her heart beat out of rhythm, stealing her breath. What would she do if Rutger refused him? Her thoughts were in a tangle, like a patch of thorny vines.
Odette stepped out onto the balcony, but Jorgen was not with Rutger. He was standing with a woman, standing extremely close to her, and she was wearing Odette’s mask!
Jorgen leaned down to kiss her. Odette felt ill, her stomach twisting. Then Jorgen said, “I love you. I want to marry you. Please marry me.”
Who was he saying these things to? Who was this woman? As soon as Jorgen said the words, the woman threw her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. And Jorgen was kissing her back most enthusiastically.
A strangled noise left her lips as she forced herself not to scream. Then she saw Rutger and Mathis standing a few feet away. Rutger must have heard her because he turned and looked at her.
Jorgen must have heard her as well. He broke away from the woman and his eyes met Odette’s.
His eyes widened. “Odette?” he gasped and turned back to the girl he had been kissing. “Who are you?”
Was he pretending? Did he truly not know that the woman he had been kissing was not Odette? Had the woman tricked him by wearing her mask? And where had she found a dress so similar to her own? None of it made sense.
Suddenly the woman started running toward Odette, laughing in a high-pitched voice. She ran past Odette, through the doorway, and to the gallery. As she passed by, something touched Odette on the shoulder, then clattered to the floor. Her mask. She bent and picked it up.
“Odette.” Jorgen took a few unsteady steps toward her. “I . . . I thought she was you.”
But all Odette could see as she looked at him was him kissing that other woman. “Do you expect me to believe that you could not tell she was not me?” Perhaps she was being unfair to him, but . . . Her stomach twisted again.
“Come, my dear.” Rutger stood before her and took her by the arm. “This man and his love affairs are not our concern. We will leave him to his folly.”
She followed Rutger to the gallery, letting him place her hand on his arm.
“Wait, Odette, please.”
The anguish in Jorgen’s voice made her turn and look at him.
“The woman tricked me. I did not know. I thought she was you.”
The lost look in his eyes made her stomach sink even lower. Her eyes burned with tears, and a searing pain stabbed her like a knife, but Rutger urged her on, through the gallery.
“Odette.” Jorgen was following them.
“Who was she?” Odette turned and faced him, in spite of Rutger urging her to keep going forward. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“It is a complete mystery to me. Please believe me. I could never love anyone but you.” His voice was strained.