Read Online Dark Enchantment by Janine Ashbless - Free Book Online Page A

that the men found risible, there was food laid on and dancing. The brigade broke up as people went to find their families or pillage the buffet tables. Charlotte reluctantly left her companions and presented herself and her medal to her father and mother, who were so proud that for once they almost refrained from scolding her. She loaded a plate and circulated among her peers and drank an incautious amount of champagne until Lord Atherstone took advantage of a lull in the conversation.
    ‘Charlotte, darling, would you care to dance?’ The orchestra was just warming to a polka.
    ‘Of course, Freddy.’ She put down her glass and offered him her hand.
    He hesitated. ‘You’ll want to go and change, of course.’
    The smile faded from Charlotte’s lips as she looked down at her brand-new flying suit. She was rather proud of it. ‘Will I?’
    ‘Well, it would look rather ridiculous, wouldn’t it?’ He swept his sandy fringe off his brow.
    ‘Ridiculous?’ She took a step away from him.
    They had the attention of their little circle now.
    ‘I mean, for dancing, darling. You’d look rather foolish waltzing like that.’
    ‘Would I?’
    He was getting flustered. ‘Well, it isn’t really
you
.’
    ‘No.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘On the contrary, I think it
is
me.’
    Turning on her heel, she stalked away. He didn’t try to stop her, and she was pleased. Only when she passed a mirror in the corridor outside did she pause, and then it was momentarily, to look at herself. She touched her face. She had a scar now where a piece of flying glass had laid her left cheek open to the bone. She was rather proud of it when she wore her flying suit; it was reminiscent of the duelling scars that men of her grandfather’s generation wore. But when she changed back into a dress it became all of a sudden a horrible blemish. And there were other scars: a pink weal across her collarbone; a burn mark down her right forearm from when she’d brought her ornithopter successfully home even when in flames. They did not look good in the low-cut short-sleeved dancing dresses fashionable at the moment.
    Charlotte felt suddenly queasy. She couldn’t look at herself any longer.
    She set off through the crowds. She patrolled the veranda over the lakeside and the ballroom, the public dining area on the terrace and the champagne fountain. Everywhere people were singing and stuffing their bellies and getting as drunk as possible. An unusual mixing of the social classes was visible, and other behaviour that would have been unthinkable at any normal time was sparking off in darkened corners, as alcohol and relief went to people’s heads and they gave way to celebratory practices that ranged from the risqué to the positively debauched. Charlotte blinked in surprise and hurried on. She saw several groups of her old flying comrades, but avoided them all. Only when she checked inside the Aviators’ Chapel did she admit to herself that she was looking for Chief McGregor, but he wasn’t there.
    I need to speak to him, she told herself. This is my last chance. I need to … say goodbye.
    He’d been with the ornithopter ground crew at the awards and the parade of course. She hadn’t seen him since the ceremony finished and they all split up.
    In all these last weeks he’d said nothing to her about what had passed between them in his office. His demeanour had been exactly as before. Not a word or a glance had betrayed that any such incident might have taken place. And on her side she’d never told anyone.
    She found him when she returned to the private box that had been allocated to them among the cherubs on the third tier of the hippodrome. On the main floor below, the party was in full swing, but when she opened the door she found him sitting on the floor with his back to the balcony, invisible from below, facing the disordered ranks of chairs. His knees were bent up, his arms propped on them, and a large brown bottle swung from one