“Oh!” Raluca first looked shocked, then delighted. “Lucas, how wonderful! But where did she go?”
Lucas followed her gaze. Journey was gone.
Chapter Four
Journey
Journey fled across the dance floor, trying and failing to keep tears from her eyes.
The ball had turned on a dime from being the best night of her life to one of the worst. How could she have forgotten, even for an hour, that charming Prince Lucas was about to get engaged? How could she have let herself slip from enjoying his company as one of the many lucky women who got to meet the prince, to flirting with him— wanting him— imagining that she could have him?
But the worst part had been when she’d realized that she could have him... if she was willing to sacrifice her integrity for a sleazy fling with a silver-tongued cheater.
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
Journey angrily dashed the tears from her eyes. And, momentarily blinded, she tripped over someone’s foot.
“
Sorry,” she gasped, her arms flying out to catch herself.
Several people grabbed her before she could fall. But her foot came down hard and at an angle against the marble floor. The wooden heel of her left shoe snapped off.
“Oh, goddammit!” Journey exclaimed.
She took off her shoes and picked them up along with the heel, then stood barefoot on the cold floor, looking around for Stefania. She was nowhere to be seen. But near where Journey had seen her last was a small door, presumably to one of the side rooms Mrs. Florescu had warned her about.
Journey bolted for the door, then flung it open.
The room was exactly what she had imagined: very small but luxuriously furnished, with a velvet loveseat just big enough for two. Stefania and the young man she’d been dancing with all night were draped over it and each other, kissing passionately.
“Stefania!” Journey exclaimed.
The couple sprang apart, looking flushed and guilty.
Normally Journey would have simply told them to get back on the dance floor. But now, with her own misery and frustrated passion and longing to get as far away from Lucas as possible swirling within her, she snapped, “Stefania, this is exactly what your parents forbade. Come with me. We’re going home.”
“Noooooo,” Stefania wailed. “One more dance!”
The young man stepped forward. He was no older than Stefania, from the looks of him, but more self-possessed. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. We’ll stay on the dance floor.”
“The dance is over. Come on.” Journey caught Stefania by the hand.
The young man snatched up Stefania’s free hand, gave it a hasty kiss, and said, “I’ll call on you tomorrow. Don’t worry, I can charm even the fiercest mother.”
This seemed to console Stefania, who cast him a coquettish smile over her shoulder. “You needn’t ask permission from my parents, Doru. Tomorrow I’ll be eighteen!”
Journey hurried Stefania outside, past the guards and down the marble steps, and into their waiting carriage. She felt worse and worse as the coach clattered across the cobblestones. She’d not only ruined her own evening, she’d also ruined Stefania’s. Journey could have simply extracted her from the private room— she hadn’t needed to drag Stefania away from the ball. It had been wrong of her to take her own unhappiness out on her charge. As for her own feelings, she could suck them up for one more hour.
Journey wiped her eyes again. Once she got control of her breath, she’d turn the carriage around. Then she saw that while she still had the heel in her hand, she’d dropped the broken dancing shoe.
It was the last straw. Journey burst into tears.
“Journey!” Stefania exclaimed. “Whatever is the matter?”
Journey couldn’t bring herself to confess what had happened between her and Prince Lucas. Instead, she gasped out, “I broke the heel on one of your mother’s shoes and then I lost it... And I was mean to you... And I have to leave Brandusa and go back to Lummox and I don’t know if I can ever come back!”
Stefania hugged her. “Oh, Journey, my mother won’t care about the shoes. And I forgive you. And you’ll come back some day, I know you will. If I marry Doru, we’ll keep a guest room just for you!”