Merry Misrule - St. Clair, Ellie Page 0,65

the question,” Joanna murmured, and Caroline placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You most assuredly should,” she said confidently. “Besides, you’ve already given Elijah his costume. Who else is going to match him?”

“But what about the others? They might think—”

“It doesn’t matter a fig what they think,” Caroline said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the bedpost. “I am marrying a footman. I’m sure they will all have plenty to say about that. But you know what, Jo? I don’t care. For what matters is that I love him, and I am going to be happy with him. Even if I have to become a housemaid myself.”

“You’re right,” Joanna said softly, hope beginning to fill her. “Anything is possible.”

“That’s the spirit,” Caroline said. “Now, let’s get this costume on you so that you can become the woman you were meant to be.”

“Should we call for the maid?”

“No, I shall help you,” Caroline said, and when Joanna was about to argue, she held up a hand. “It shall be good practice,” she said with a laugh, and, resigned, Joanna turned around and lifted her arms.

Chapter 22

There was no party quite like Twelfth Night.

Especially Twelfth Night at Briercrest.

It had been a few years since Elijah had been home for his parents’ end-of-the-Christmas-season party, but it seemed nothing had changed. If anything, the revelers were in much higher spirits than ever.

There were the usual guests from the entirety of the Christmas house party, of course, but this was the one night each year when all societal classes no longer seemed to exist, when everyone was in costume and was someone else — or something else — for the evening. Villagers and servants alike were in attendance, and it had always been Elijah’s favorite evening of the year.

Some revelers wore masks, while others wore elaborate costumes, many, he knew, sewn by Joanna’s hand.

Never again, if he had anything to do about it. The only costumes she would be sewing would be those for their children, he vowed.

That thought alone caused a fierce yearning to race through him.

He dimly noted telling his mother that she looked beautiful, while his father passed by in his servants’ costume and told him that he would like a moment to talk to him in his study later. Elijah nodded absently, a small part of him curious about just what his father would like to speak with him about — likely something to do with Caroline and Thatcher — but not overly caring at the moment.

There was but one thing he cared about right now. And that was Joanna.

Where was she? Even if she was obscured by a mask, he would not only know her form, but would be able to sense her presence.

And then, suddenly, he did. So did everyone else in the room. Cecily and her husband were speaking to him — although about what, he had no idea for he wasn’t even listening — and Cecily stopped mid-sentence and stared up with a gasp.

For there, at the top of the staircase that led from the upper entrance down to the ballroom, was Joanna.

Perhaps others in the room weren’t aware that it was she, but he knew.

He could tell by the way she moved, by the way she carried herself, by the small, steady, unsure step she took as she began to descend the staircase.

He didn’t do it consciously, but he felt himself moving toward her, drawn by her, needing to be close to her side.

He met her when she reached the bottom step, holding up a hand to her as he bowed low.

“Your Highness,” he said in a hushed voice, holding out his hand, as a crowd began to form around them. The odd whisper invaded his ears.

“Who is that?”

“Why is she dressed as the queen?”

“Oh, what a dress.”

But none of the whispers mattered.

The only voice he needed to hear was Joanna’s.

He led her onto the dance floor just as the musicians struck up a waltz. He glanced over toward them to find that his sister had been directing them, and she smiled broadly at him.

He tugged on Joanna’s hand, pulling her toward the floor. She resisted for a moment.

“Elijah, I have to tell you—”

“Shh,” he said, “one dance, first.”

“But—”

“One dance?” he asked this time, and she finally nodded, allowing him to lead her.

He grasped one of her hands, tightening his other around her waist, so grateful, at the moment, to simply have her in his arms once more. How could he have ever