The Ice Princess 2

Hello My Lovelies,

I know, it has been too long! Hopefully that will not be the case in the new year.

This is for anyone who has never felt like the main character in their life story.

Your time will come.

XOXO SkylerLuv

******

Sneak into the ball, check.

Wear something scandalous but flattering, check.

Seduce the duke, err. Make the duke look my way, um. Question all of my life choices and curse my existence for being here, check and check.

The sweat forming above my upper lip is shocking considering that I'm fanning myself with enough power to churn butter in seconds.

"Perhaps we should switch places like I first suggested?" I crane my neck up to look at Libby.

It is just like me to try and back out after she has gone through so much trouble to get us here. We technically did not have to sneak in and the dress I am wearing is all thanks to her. But it is the last part of the plan that I am having trouble following through. Not only do I feel unrefined and like I do not belong, I am well aware that my feat will not be a small one. Should I ever get the courage to take it on.

She gives a gentleman next to her a salacious smile and flutters her eyelashes prettily. The vibrant forest green dress she chose for tonight really compliments her hazel eyes and chestnut hair. Even if there are only a few curls loosely framing her face, men cannot take their eyes off her head. I've been witness to the number of visitors she used to get just from her mane alone. The intricate curls, braids, and jewels in her hair beckon for attention from anyone nearby.

"We both decided that I am not innocent enough to fool the duke." She pretends to ignore the men gazing at her but I know she's taking inventory.

Along with my reading lessons early each morning, Libby has educated me in the art of seduction. Or at least she has tried and I've mostly put the information in the back of my brain, never intending to use it. It is interesting to hear how quickly she is able to get a man on his knees but much more her idea of fun than mine. I bet she is looking at her neighbor right now and imagining just what to do to get him to start sweating through his trousers.

"But perhaps I am too much of a novice." The fluttering of my fan comes to a stop when I spot the duke again across the ballroom.

He is a severe man.

His dark eyes and coal black hair only add to the darkness etched in his face. I don't think he has smiled once. I'm used to men pretending to at least tolerate idle chat during a gathering but maybe things are done differently here in the north. Where I'm from, men would fall over themselves to talk to finely dressed women. They have more than enough overflowing in this one room alone. Yet, no woman has managed to make his scowl disappear.

The royal blue coat must weigh a ton but he wears it like it is not twenty degrees hotter here than it is outside. The men around him wear similar clothing but their cheeks are colorful and their smiles are warm. He is unfazed, unbothered, and completely detached. How am I meant to tempt him? Me? Tempt? It is as improbable as a flying pig.

"I must say," I lean in further to her side, putting her body between me and the brewing man. "He does not appear to be interested in any company at all."

Much less a blubbering idiot like myself.

Libby's patience is running thin, I can see it in her tight smile but she doesn't snap at me. She just removes a strand of hair from my face and pinches my cheeks. "You do remember why we're doing this, right?"

My brows pull together as I think about the reason. I bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling and urge the tears not to well in my eyes. We are in the middle of a celebration for God's sake! How long have I wanted to do something like this? How often have I day dreamed about being in a room full of women wearing the most beautiful gowns that money can afford? To see men whisper pretty things in their ears in hopes of a shy smile? It is something I've heard from second hand accounts and here I am, dreading every second of it. I have not been able to enjoy any of it due to my impending task.

The corset digs into my ribs, making my breathing labored and shallow.

"We have a mere number of coins to our name. I have invested the last of my savings into these two dresses and we only have one shot." The faltering smile on her lips plunges a large boulder of guilt deep in my gut.

"Yes," I nod.

I know all of this. We have only talked about our plan for the last two weeks. From the moment that we got word that there was an eligible duke, I promised Libby I would do everything in my power to get her out of the whorehouse and get myself out of poverty. My

innocence

is my only form of commodity at this point and both of us have protected it for an opportunity exactly like this one.

"Now, I can introduce you in the next few minutes like we rehearsed or..." She gives me a moment to think.

"I need fresh air." I want to rip this egregious rosy dress from my skin but cannot afford to.

A movement catches my eye and I see the duke approaching the small group gathered around Libby. With each step, my eyes widen in fear and my heart stutters. The men around my beloved friend stand taller and pretend to talk about something interesting. Like me, they are blatantly aware of the presence of the duke. Unlike me, they want his audience and would do anything in their power to get it.

"Chlo!" Libby whispers angrily when she sees me run in the opposite direction.

Her wrath later tonight is absolutely worth the risk.

I need air. Cool air. Different air.

The French doors to the gardens fly open against my hands. There are a few men outside to my left drinking and smoking, startled by my presence. I ignore them. My feet guide me down the stone steps and I yank on my neckline down, further revealing the tops of my breasts. No matter how hard I pull, the air just cannot seem to get into my lungs. If I run into anyone right now, they will get a free view of a madwoman and her demise. Plus, a side of breasts.

The tall rose bushes along the side of the house make for a great escape. The path is well lit by the moonlight but I'm still careful with each step. These heels are the largest I have ever worn and I cannot imagine what Libby would do if I twisted an ankle after the stunt I just pulled.

There are voices. Quiet voices, further into the garden.

Am I about to stumble upon a magical scene between a demur, wallflower and a ravishing rake? Maybe sharing secrets or a first kiss? Does it really happen like that? I wonder what compels a woman to risk her virtue for a simple smashing of lips.

"Just a moment longer, please?" It is a woman's voice.

I quiet my steps and slow down. Although the idea of watching lovers share a moment together piques my curiosity, I don't want to get caught and cause any more trouble for myself.

"If I keep indulging you like this, you will eventually think you can get away with murder." Another voice. A woman's voice.

I completely stop walking and press a hand against my mouth, the other against my chest. Two women? My cheeks heat at the implication but then I shake my head. It cannot be. No matter what I've heard the girls discuss back home, behind closed doors, I cannot imagine that happening here in polite society. Not between two women at least.

"You would help me hide the body." The first woman responds.

"And mama-"

A twig brakes under my foot and I gasp.

There are a few moments of silence before dresses and skirts swish about until I am surrounded by two ladies.

One is glaring at me, holding a small pipe far away from her caerulean dress. Her dark hair is fashionably styled away from her face. She's currently holding both of her lace gloves in her free hand. Her dark eyes stray all over my being, making me feel two inches tall. The other woman is wearing a similar color dress but much more modest and subdued. Her hair is up in a simple bun and her blue eyes narrow in my direction. She looks mostly confused by my presence and then remembers her friend and urges her to get rid of the pipe she smoking out of.

"Great, now are you happy that you've been discovered? Put it away!"

"I'm sorry." I put both hands up and start backing away.

The lady with the pipe looks down at my chest and then begins to choke on some smoke. "Jesus-" More coughing.

Her friend pats her back and snatches the last of the ashes away.

"Who are you?" She stands closer and gives her friend a moment to put her gloves back on. "And what are you doing here?"

I pull my dress up to cover more of my breasts and gulp another lung full of air before answering. "I'm terribly sorry."

"What are you doing here, girl?" The other woman asks.

"I needed fresh air." I start backing away but they step closer so I stop moving.

"She looks like she's going to faint." One murmurs.

"And that concerns us because?"

"Don't be mean."

"I don't-"

"For the love of all that is holy put the damn pipe away, Iris!"

I watch them bicker and theorize some more about their relations before clearing my throat.

"I am Chloe."

That gets them both to stop talking.

The woman closest to me smiles. Her blue eyes losing any suspicion. "I am Cynthia and this is my sister Iris. We're fraternal twins"

"Nice to meet you both." I bow slightly.

Should I be bowing? How does it work among women? They didn't use titles. I don't know if I'm talking to anyone of importance.

"Wish I could say the same." The girl with dark eyes frowns in my direction. "Are you going to run back and tell all the others what you saw me doing here?"

Her sister, the obviously nicer one, gives her a look and extends her hand in my direction. "She won't do that, will you, Chloe?"

I smile warmly at her and take her hand. "No, of course not. For one, I have no idea who either of you are."

She snickers and then laughs a little louder.

I blink, waiting to understand the joke.

"Wait, you're being serious." Cynthia stops smiling and frowns slightly. "I'm sorry but who did you say you were related to?"

"Oh, who cares?" Iris fists her skirts and brushes past us to go back to the party. "Hurry, before mama sends the scouts to find us!"

***

The carriage ride back to our hotel room is deathly silent.

Libby hasn't said one word to me and I have not found anything to say. Nothing worthwhile anyway. Soon after I returned back to the ballroom, she snatched my wrist and ordered our carriage ride. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief and then remembered that every failure of the night will fall on my shoulders.

"Libby, I'm so sorry." I'm wringing my fingers with a painful grip but cannot help it.

I let her down. I have ruined our chances.

She waits until after we're in our room to speak.

"I need to know now if all of this was a mistake." She levels her gaze to mine and watches me squirm. "Chlo, please tell me right now if I should ask Madame Celeste for my spot back. I know we thought we could handle this but maybe we are way in over our heads."

She is holding back her tears now.

No matter how tough and determined Libby may appear, I know she is just as desperate and beat down inside as I am. We have both been trudging through life without ever seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Not knowing when it would all end or if it ever would. She has sold her body and her soul to the wretched and I was meant to be next in line. I knew I couldn't keep escaping the claws of deprivation.

I shake my head, pulling some strength from the same Libby who devised this plan. "You will never go back to Madame Celeste." I grind my teeth when I see her tears drop.

She nods and wipes them away. "Then what are we to do now? We only have this room paid for until half way through the season. If we have nowhere to stay, we will have nothing to eat, and then we will be rightly looked down upon by everyone and their mothers. Should I find a gentleman who can assist?"

I grab her by her shoulders. "Libby, you will not sell your body any longer. No matter how low we feel like we have fallen, I will make sure you do not go back to that life."

"How can I allow you to exchange your virtue for our future comfort if I cannot do the same?" She worries her bottom lip.

"You have taken care of me since I was a teenager. You guarded me from that world for as long as you could and I can only wish to repay you the best way I can."

My sacrifice is nothing compared to the years of abuse Libby has had to endure.

She cries silently and wraps me up in her arms.

After we have both changed and put our clothes away, I sit behind her and brush her hair. It is something that I have found calms her when she is stressed.

"I met two beautiful ladies tonight." I begin to braid each strand. "One was smoking and the other was on the lookout." I chuckle. "In another life, that would have been us."

She turns to look at me. "Smoking? Are you certain? Usually, mamas do everything in their power to keep their daughters free of any vices. They want pristine future wives that will uphold their husband's impeccable reputation." The bitterness in her tone makes me a bit sad.

While there is a streak of rebellion that runs through both of us, we would trade it even for a week of comfort. A week where we would have an overbearing mama who would dress us prettily and keep an eye on us. One who would make sure no man ever got closer than we wanted them to and would earn our hand in a respectable manner. Unfortunately, we are more familiar with the lack of maternal figures and overwhelming presence of depraved men.

"We all know those same husbands have dirty secrets in their closets." I turn her back to finish braiding her hair. "They were sisters. I think you would have liked them."

"What were their names? Which family do they belong to?"

"I only got their first names, Cynthia and Iris. I didn't want to focus too much on their titles seeing as I didn't want to give them any information about myself. I'm still hesitant about our cover story." Finishing her hair with one final tug I sit in front of her. "No one will believe you're meant to be my guardian. You are no more than four summers older than me."

"I am much too old to be out in society and no one will question why I am not looking for a husband. Now, we established that we cannot be sisters because it will not make sense as to why we are traveling alone-"

"And we do not look alike." I point to her dark hair and then yank on my light brown hair.

I am also much shorter and curvier than Libby. She has a darker complexion that has no trace of fairness that my skin does. And although Cynthia and her sister have different eye colors, there are similarities in their chins and noses that Libby and I cannot compete with. No one would believe that I am related to someone as stunning as her.

She rolls her eyes. "Not the point. But we also cannot claim to be related for the same reason. I cannot be a maid because no one takes their staff to balls or any outings. And even though I wish I could claim to be a long-lost wealthy aunt, we barely have enough to rub two coins together. I don't think it is wise to give anyone more information than is required."

"Are you sure Wilbert will assist us should we need it?" I prefer some form of reassurance that we do have some help on the outside. He is meant to be our most important card.

"He promised me he would help."

I wish she didn't have to use his feelings for her to get his help but she claims he offered. He was the one who told us about the duke and the possible needs he might have for a mistress. Wilbert did it with the intention of giving Libby a better station since he was set to marry within the year and would most likely cut ties with her shortly afterwards, but Libby had other plans. Plans that included me and have kept me up most nights.

"What of his cousin?" I press once more.

Wilbert mentioned he may have a cousin in town who would open their doors to us but it would be a big ask. It seemed like the best move for us from the beginning but Libby is skeptical of other ladies of the ton. It would be much too easy for Wilbert's cousin to guess how Libby knows him and why he is willing to help. We cannot afford to be outed before we have a chance to change our luck.

"I don't want to involve his family in any scandals should this all blow up in our faces."

I nod in understanding.

"The duke doesn't seem that bad." She has this faraway look on her face. "He had every man in that room ready to roll over at the snap of his fingers."

I shiver in distress. "He did not smile once."

She shrugs. "It is hard to do when everyone around him wants to be a livelier version of themselves only when he is around. Like they're all in a play and if they do not perform to the best of their abilities, he will condemn them."

"And that does not 'seem bad' to you?" I swear sometimes I hardly understand Libby's fascination with brooding men.

"You should have heard his voice." Is that a twinkle in her eye? "He spoke to a few gentlemen in my circle and it was so commanding."

"Did you get to speak to him?"

She scrunches her nose. "He wouldn't think me worth the time. Didn't even bother to introduce myself." Then she gets up and walks over to the wardrobe. "We should decide what dress you will wear during our first visit to the park. I heard he likes taking walks in the morning and there is a chance he may be looking for company."

I try to hide the dread behind my smile but she gives me a look.

"I promise I will at least introduce myself this time." I promise halfheartedly.

******

Libby has always had an eye for fashion.

Even when she worked under Madam Celeste, who had enough money to buy expensive clothing, Libby always came out on top. There was no girl who could compete with her style. She learned how to mend her own clothing and designed her own wardrobe. She earned extra coins on the side by helping the other girls dress to accentuate their most promising features. And what she could not afford to buy on her own, she would get as a gift from one of her regulars. In their eyes, shagging a refined whore, who knew how to dress, was always preferable to the alternative.

So, it is no surprise when she comes to me a week later stating that she struck a deal with the local seamstress. With a solid recommendation from Wilbert and showing the older lady some of her drawings and ideas for dresses, Libby will now get any scraps from the owner in exchange for some designs. All she must do is look at the different body types that come into the shop and suggest the best dress for each.

With that, we have some extra resources to make our own dresses. Something that would typically take Libby weeks to do, can be done in days with my help and the use of the shop at night when there is no clientele. This is more of a backup in case Wilbert decides to cut Libby off prematurely and we have nowhere else to turn but I can tell she truly enjoys it.

It does take some getting used to, coming into a shop at night and not have anyone in town know about it. I am sure the owner is just as insistent that all of this is kept quiet as we are. There is nothing wrong with Libby coming in throughout the day and pretending to shop or ask for advice. But it would be damaging to the modiste's reputation to learn that she has a stranger assisting her with looks for the girls of the ton. Reputation is very important and no matter how beautiful a dress Libby can create, her lack of social pull will leave a lot to be desired from the rest.

It is during one of the early mornings back from assisting Libby with a dress for myself that I spot a woman with long, glorious hair riding through the open fields, near the inn. She is completely alone, not trotting or taking in the scenery. She is hunched over, galloping, trying to get away from something. The scissors in my hands dig into my knuckles as I watch her for a moment longer before realizing that I recognize that hair. It is Iris. I briefly wonder where Cynthia is but then remember that I should not be seen this early in the morning. Although we are both without a chaperone, only one of us has enough status to shrug it off as an inconvenience. I do not need her asking me why I am alone at this ungodly hour.