She was so calm that I felt trapped, almost frantic. “It is not that you displease me, Linnea. But I would not marry at their bidding.” My wrath flared up again; I felt her flinch from its impact. Her hand still rested lightly on my arm, as when we were dancing; she drew it away as if she had been burned. I felt like storming away and actually made a faint move to leave her, when I realized, just in time, that this would be a disgraceful thing to do. To abandon a young girl in the middle of a dance-floor would be a rudeness no man of breeding would ever commit against a gently reared young girl of unquestionable manners and reputation! I couldn’t expose her to such gossip for, inevitably, everyone would be wondering what unspeakable thing she could possibly have done to deserve it. I glanced around. Javanne was dancing at the far end of the ballroom so I led Linnea toward the buffet. I offered her a glass of wine; she refused it with a head-shake. I got her shallan instead, and stood sipping irritably at the wine myself. I didn’t like it.
When I was a little calmer I said, “Nothing is irrevocable yet. You can tell whoever put you up to this—my father, old Hastur, whoever—you can tell them you don’t like me and that will be the end of it.”
She smiled, a faint amused flicker. “But I do like you, Dom Lewis,” she said. “I won’t lie about it, even if I thought I could. Lord Kennard would know it at once if I tried to lie to him. You’re angry and unhappy, but I think if you weren’t so angry, you’d be very nice. I would be well content with such a marriage. If you wish to refuse it, Lew, you must do the refusing.”
If she had been less young, less naive, I might have flung at her that she could hardly be expected to give up a marriage into Comyn without protest. Even so, I am sure she caught the thought, for she looked distressed.
I shut out her thoughts and said flatly, “A woman should have the privilege of refusing. I thought to spare you the of-fense of hearing me say to my father that I did not—” I discovered that I could not simply say that I did not like her. I amended it and said, “That I did not intend to marry at their bidding.”
Her composure was disquieting. “No one marries at his own will. Do you really feel that a marriage between us would be unendurable, Lew? It is obvious that they will arrange some marriage or other for you.”
For a moment I wavered. She was evidently sensitive and intelligent; she had been considered for tower training, which meant laran. My father had evidently gone, to some pains to choose a woman who would be maximally acceptable to me, one with Terran blood, one capable of that emotional and mental fusion a telepath must have in any woman he is to know intimately. She was pretty. She was no empty-minded doll, but had wit and poise. For a second I considered. Sooner or later I must marry, I had always known that. A Comyn heir must father children. And, the Gods knew, I was lonely, lonely . . .
And my father, damn him, had counted on just this reaction! My anger flared anew. “Damisela, I have told you why I will not be party to any marriage made as this one was made. If you choose to believe that I have rejected you personally, that is your affair.” I drank the last in my wineglass and set it down. “Allow me to conduct you to my kinswomen, since Javanne is much occupied.”
Javanne was dancing again. Well, let her enjoy herself. She had been married off at fifteen and had spent the last nine years doing her duty to her family. They wouldn’t catch me in that trap!
Gabriel had claimed a dance from Linnell—I was glad to see it—but Callina was standing at the edge of the floor. The crimson draperies she was wearing only accentuated the colorlessness of her bland features. I presented Linnea to her and asked Callina to look after her while I had a word with my father. She looked curious, evidently sensing my anger. I must be broadcasting it right and left.