The Reverend's Daughter (Book 2 after The Duke's Daughter)

Forty Four Part Three

Christine sighed regretfully, wishing she had not worn her chosen costume, quite aware that her present discomfort was her own damn fault. Christine fanned herself madly, her dismal mood dispelled not one whit by the gaiety of the nobles around her. It was not as if she found the entertainment lacking, for the string orchestra, hidden from sight behind swags of forest and apple green fabric, played grandly. The ballroom was as a midsummer night's dream, bedecked, as it was, most spectacularly. Christine was in the jovial company of her two favorite cousins, at the grandest ball of the winter season, and you would think she would be enjoying herself, however, she suffered greatly from being itchy, hot and inordinately bothered. Her acute displeasure rose by the moment as the wool around her face caused her to itch constantly, though she did not scratch, she only rubbed, knowing her fair skin would show redness were her nails applied to the infernally annoying area. When yet another deep, heaving sigh escaped her, Christine attempted to excuse herself, informing Ashton and Sassy that she felt in dire need of a breath of fresh air. What she truly desired, above all else, was to escape the heat of the crush so she could rub at the perspiration she could feel running in rivulets down between her breasts. Just a few moments of cool autumn air, and a modicum of privacy to apply her handkerchief inconspicuously, would do much to improve her present predicament.

"Christine, you cannot leave now," Ashton insisted, "the King will be making his appearance at any moment. Do you not wish to see the Monarch? Aren't you even the smallest bit curious to see what he has chosen for his masquerade costume?" Ashton asked.

"In truth, cousin," Christine answered quite irritably, "I cannot stay, I care much less for seeing the King at the moment, than I care for my own comfort. I feel as though I am just short of melting into a wooly puddle upon the floor."

"Wait just a few moments more, Christine, until the King presents himself. I shall then personally escort both of you out to the gardens, as I am sure Sassy would appreciate a breath of cool air also." Ashton had known, from the moment he donned his own sheep's clothing,  the costume had not been a bright idea. It was hot, uncomfortable, and downright itchy. Though Sissy had been at a loss as to what to wear, Christine had seemed to save the day with a suggestion that they all dress as a flock of sheep. Easy enough, the idea had seemed at the time. Now, however, Ashton was positive they must be the most uncomfortable threesome in the room.

"I do not believe I can, Ashton." Christine spoke quietly, yet furtively, "Truly, I am becoming soaked under my bosom, I shall start itching most unbecomingly if I do not acquire some relief immediately." She turned a yearning face to the wide, double doors to one side of the room, seeing her salvation but a few moments away. Used to doing however she pleased, Christine took two steps towards the doors, "Excuse me, pardon me," She prepared to weave her way across the entire ballroom most hurriedly, not willing to wait for Ashton, not willing to wait even one moment longer for a reprieve.

Suddenly, she was tugged back by a firm hand upon her arm, Christine opened her mouth to rebuke her cousin, frustrated he was delaying her from that which she sought.

"It is the King, Christine, look, at the top of the staircase!" Ashton turned his cousin, forcing her to face the direction of which he spoke.

Before Christine could close her mouth from her desire to chastise him, she looked up, her mouth remaining open, her jaw completely dropping as the King stepped forward, waiting for quiet before he began speaking.

Christine felt a rush of shock wash over her, why, she knew that face! Christine now knew, that her pirate, her... Beast!?! Was none other than the King himself!

Ashton chuckled beside her. Even though Ashton was just as uncomfortable as both of the woman were, he still found high amusement in his favorite cousin's astounded visage. Placing a finger beneath her jaw, Ashton raised Christine's chin even as she whipped her head to look at him, accusation residing in her golden eyes.

"Shhh. He speaks." Ashton spoke in a low, falsely chiding tone, while the entire ballroom went utterly silent, so as to hear the words of their King.

Christine groaned inwardly, placing her arm beneath her bosom, she pressed her clothing against herself to absorb the annoying river running down towards her navel. She still glared, yet now her glare was directed at the King that stood poised at the top of the grand staircase.

*********************************************************************

Just a tidbit for ye, loveys, while I work on the ending! Godspeed and blessings to all!