She didn’t care to, really, because she had to fight her tendency to hum along with the music, but seeing daughters dancing was one of the things parents paid for at Blessingham’s, and no doubt her father would approve her dancing. She nodded and accompanied him onto the floor, where he held her firmly, never stepped on her feet, and was blessedly silent, which she preferred. Dancing and carrying on conversation at the same time was very trying.
Since the Colonel didn’t try to make conversation, whenever he reversed or turned Genevieve could look at the other dancers. Carlotta was dancing with Tomas, the two of them seeming rather bored. Glorieta was with Willum, the same expression on their faces that Genevieve had noticed before. It was a wounded look, with an admixture of fear, revulsion, and pain. It wasn’t an expression that belonged in a ballroom, and Genevieve spun away on Aufors’s arm, telling herself she had not seen it. During the next dance, Glorieta was with Tomas and Willum was with Carlotta … no! Willum was with Barbara!
She made a sound, for the Colonel drew her closer and asked, “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” she murmured. “I was just surprised to see . . . one of my friends dancing with the betrothed of … another of my friends.”
He looked across her shoulder. “The young lady in green?”
She nodded, ever so slightly.
“The girl’s a flirt,” he said, softly. “She’ll get herself into trouble.”
Genevieve surprised herself by saying, “I think Barbara would welcome trouble. She is not of the nobility and she gets awfully bored trying to be covenantly.” Then she bit her lip, confused by the strange look he gave her.
Two waltzes and a country dance later, Colonel Leys attention was drawn across the room, where the Marshal was preparing to leave. The Colonel bowed his thanks, then, turning so that his face was hidden from the Marshal, who awaited him in obvious impatience, he said:
“I have an apology to make, Most Honorable Marchioness.”
“Not at all,” she murmured, her eyes on her father, who was beginning to fume.
“Please. I teased you in asking those questions. I expected only the usual, a gush of uninspired coquetry with no thought behind it and no sense in it. I was mistaken. I ask your forgiveness for you are … a very intelligent … ah, person, Most Honorable Marchioness. I hope we will meet soon again.” He bowed, kissed her hand, turned on his heels and went, leaving her standing quite still against the blue velvet draperies of the terrace arch, her mouth slightly open, and his lips still burning on her hand as though he had somehow left them behind.
Carlotta came over, full of questions, to which Genevieve gave monosyllabic answers. She noticed a sotto voce spat going on between Glorieta and Barbara, so instead of joining her friends for supper, she said her good-nights while the soiree was still going on.
She was curled up in bed with a book when, much later, Carlotta and Glorieta burst in upon her.
“Oooh,” cried Glorieta. “Wasn’t he something! Wherever did your father find that one, Jenny?”
“He’s Father’s equerry,” said Genevieve.
“What did he say to you? What did you talk about?”
She hesitated a moment before replying. “All he did was stare at me and ask strange questions.”
“What strange questions?” demanded Carlotta, scenting something juicy.
“Not flirty sorts of questions, silly. No, he wanted to know what I thought about the Frangian situation. So, I told him what I thought.”
“Which was?”
“Something about just leaving Frangia alone.”
“His Majesty, Marwell, Lord Paramount will love hearing that. My father says he’s very set on bringing Frangia to heel. He wants no breakaway provinces.”
“He didn’t ask me what I would say to the Lord Paramount, he asked me what I thought.”
“He danced with you!” said Glorieta soberly. “I was watching, and he wasn’t asking questions then!”
“He didn’t say a word the whole time. With him, words seem to be either a flood or a drought.”
“Well, if you didn’t like him, you might have introduced him to Barbara.” She turned away to the window to hide her face, letting herself out onto the balcony.