Odette’s heart stopped. He loved her? But how could he not know that other woman was not her? It hurt that he could mistake someone else for her and actually kiss that other person.
“I hope you do not believe this, Odette.” Rutger again pulled gently on her arm. “Let us go.”
“Odette . . .” He held his hand toward her, palm up, in a gesture of supplication. “Please.”
She still could not rid herself of the image of him kissing the other woman. It rose up every time she blinked. “I do not wish to speak of it anymore.”
“We shall go at once,” Rutger said as they continued down the long gallery toward the ballroom. “I shall send for the carriage.”
Odette said nothing, feeling numb all over except for the ache in her heart and the burning sensation in her nose as she struggled to hold back tears.
She heard no more from Jorgen as she passed through the rest of the gallery, through the ballroom, and into the front hall to wait for Rutger’s carriage.
“God, why?” she whispered. Why must she be in love with a man she could not marry? And now she had this painful memory of him kissing another woman and declaring his love for her. A flood of pain washed over her.
The despair in Jorgen’s heart turned to anger. Someone had deliberately tricked him. But why? He rushed out the door and into the ballroom.
He glanced around. Where was that woman, the one who had so brazenly pretended to be Odette? He must find her. He must force her to admit the truth of who she was, of what she had done. He must force her to confess in front of Odette before she left.
He started through the crowds of people, searching everywhere. She had been wearing a dress like Odette’s, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. He went from one end of the ballroom to the other. He looked everywhere he could, but she obviously didn’t wish to be found.
It seemed there would be no outlet for his anger. But didn’t Odette understand that he had been tricked? He never would have knowingly kissed another woman. But the truth was, he had kissed another woman, and in front of Odette.
The thought of it made him sick. The memory would forever be in Odette’s mind. And the pain in her eyes would forever be ingrained in his.
He stared out at the joyful dancers and the people talking to each other as if Jorgen’s hopes had not just been crushed. And what of Odette? What must she think of him? First he’d kissed her, and then he’d kissed someone else, like some unbridled cur.
Somehow he had to show her that he did not go around kissing women indiscriminately. He just had no idea how.
The carriage was dark as pitch, even with the lamp attached just outside. Odette could cry, as long as she was quiet, and Rutger wouldn’t know. She propped her elbow against the side of the carriage, her hand resting against her cheek, so she could wipe the tears away without drawing attention.
“Odette, I am sorry you had to see Jorgen kissing that other woman, but perhaps it is for the best.”
Odette took a deep breath to dispel the tears enough so he would not hear them in her voice. When she trusted herself to speak, she said, “I believe Jorgen was telling the truth when he said the woman deliberately tricked him. She must have stolen my mask when I was lying down. Why else would she steal my mask? And her dress was similar to mine. It is understandable that Jorgen would think she was me.” But it still made tears return to her eyes that he had.
Rutger did not say anything for several moments. “I have always thought you wise beyond your years, and I never wanted you to throw yourself away on someone who did not deserve you. But Jorgen Hartman . . . He is only the forester. You could marry any unmarried man in Thornbeck. Think of Mathis Papendorp. He is a good sort of man. Do you not think so? He would never treat you viciously or deny you anything your heart desired.”
She fought back the tears again to say, “Do you want me to marry Mathis?”
He sighed. “I do not want to tell you who to marry, Odette. But I do believe you would have a good life with Mathis.”
No other guardian—no other father, for that matter—would ever give so much freedom of choice to their ward or daughter. Rutger had been so good to her, and now that she was one and twenty, of course he wanted her to be married and settled.
Why didn’t she marry Mathis? Rutger was right that Mathis would give her whatever her heart desired, to the best of his ability. Besides, people didn’t normally fall in love until after they were married anyway. But Jorgen . . . How could she forget his kiss? How could she ignore the longing, deep in her heart, for him to love her and to love him in return?