Maman muttered something under her breath, drawing his attention and the air seemed to come alive.
"What is that, my dear?" Papa said. "Dimmer, say you?"
Two red spots appeared on Maman's cheeks, but disappeared quickly. She cleared her throat delicately. "Non, my dear," she murmured.
Prince decidedly detected a crafty glint about her eyes. She, of course, handled the supper conversation with her customary aplomb, tactfulness, diplomacy, and grace, no trace of that momentary blush. An excitement radiated from her that had him wondering what more she could have up her little magician-istic sleeve. Ha. 'Twas quite suspicious.
She tapped her wine glass with a spoon, and a feeling of dread stole over him. The delicate tinkle obtained everyone's attention, his included, though he kept a wary eye. After all, he'd known her the whole of his life.
"With great pleasure, I should like to announce in lieu of Prince finding his mysterious princess, 'tis time to host the betrothal ball," she said. She smiled brightly smile on Prince and his gut tightened with anger. " 'Tis our duty to introduce your bride-to-be." Maman turned her captivating smile on Esperneldi, who swallowed visibly, sending her eyes fluttering in cyclonic proportions.
Well, that certainly explained Maman's excitement. What was the huge hurry? A swift wind breezed through the dining chamber and sympathy rippled through him for his betrothed, almost matching the amount he felt for himself.
He stole a look at her. She did not look happy. In fact, she looked as if the idea made her uncomfortable. That set him aback, and he glanced around registering responses from the others. An odd glimpse passed between Pricilla and Cinderella, though Cinderella looked as though she might fall ill. While Lady Roche fought to constrain her joy. Her robust face threatened to explode with the news.
Maman appeared impassive. He watched her closely. She appeared strangely-satisfied by the various reactions. She was definitely up to no good. It was time to discern her plans, Prince decided. In no possible way could he concede marriage to Elphaba. He shook his head and looked at her again…if she was so distraught over the idea of marrying him, mayhap he could engage her assistance in handling the matter. He risked a glance to Lady Roche. She beamed a smile on him so bright he felt the heat creeping up his neck. Mayhap not.
That peculiar tingle shimmered in the air again, and he prayed for the umpteenth time he would not subject to keeling over from the…stress. Though who could blame him? Non. This matter needed dealing with posthaste. Else, he could end up tied to the chit for all of eternity, and then where would he be?