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“Keep your spine straight, Marianne, and do not slouch,” Margrave Edmund scolded.
“Um, yes. I’m sorry, Father.”
Marianne tried to pull herself taller. She’d managed to get out of wearing a corset, but her shoes were tight around her feet. She felt vulnerable, and a little warm, with her hair let down. The earrings and the necklace were heavy, strange, and new. Her parents hadn’t had nearly as much money as Margrave Edmund, and the nicest clothes she’d owned had already been worn by her mother when she was a teenager. The finery was pretty, even if it was constraining. But it wasn’t as if it looked good on her, or that she deserved to wear such lovely clothes.
The hot and humid Leicester summer had barely faded with nightfall. Despite the heat, everyone, from children to adults to the elderly, was dressed in their finest, milling through the courtyard of the Gloucester estate. Some moved more naturally in their restrictive clothes, while some looked as stifled as she felt. The dancing had not yet begun, so people were conversing with each other, delicately holding thin flutes of sparkling champagne and taking polite bites of crackers adorned with cheese and smoked meat.
“I am quite surprised that you have never been to a dance before tonight,” Margrave Edmund said. “Is that the truth?”
“Yes. I’ve never attended one before.”
“What a shame! Young people your age should not be shut in during such events. They should be out on the floor finding partners.” He grasped Marianne’s shoulder, at which she flinched. “Why don’t you go out there and ask a nice young man to dance, hm?”
“Who would want to—”
Before she could finish, a noble had engaged her adoptive father in discussion. He was a tall, lanky, pale man, dressed in the most tight-fitting outfit she’d ever seen. Marianne awkwardly stood beside him and introduced herself.
“Good evening, Lady Edmund. I am Count Brampton—it is a pleasure! My territory is quite minor, you see, so I am not always invited to these events. Although, I don’t believe I have met you before.”
“The Margrave is my adoptive father. My parents recently passed.”
“Oh, my sincerest condolences,” the Count said. “Surely they must have left you an inheritance?”
“Yes, but it didn’t amount to very much.”
“Then you must be quite pleased to be advancing in the ranks alongside the Margrave.”
“Status doesn’t really matter that much to me.”
The Count blinked, dumbfounded. “Oh. All right, then.”
“Marianne!”
She looked at Margrave Edmund, who was frowning at her. Marianne’s stomach plummeted. She’d known she was going to mess up right away. She should have stayed home, come anywhere but here. Whatever she said was never what anyone wanted to hear, probably because they didn’t even want her around.
“If you’ll pardon my daughter. She’s a bit nervous, as it’s her first dance. Normally she is not so forthright with her speech.”
“You need not apologize, my lord. Rest assured she will grow to appreciate her new position. Teenagers do frequently struggle to understand the significance of their name. One’s own internal strife takes precedence over the good of one’s country. Losing her parents at such an early age and entering a new family situation are placing an undue amount of stress on your daughter. She must feel so torn apart over these changes…”
Marianne clutched her elbow, staring at the pavement. Listening to the noble prattle on like she was just a piece of furniture made her skin crawl. People had every reason to talk around her and act as if she didn’t exist. She had already made her adoptive father angry with the way she had spoken to the noble. But she didn’t know what people wanted to hear. And even if she knew, what difference would it make? They were going to hate her anyway, just by virtue of the curse she bore.
“Father, I’m hungry,” she said, cutting into the conversation. “I’m going to get something to eat.”
She barely waited for him to grant permission before she said goodbye to the noble and headed toward the collection of small tables. Really, she wanted to get out of here altogether, and there was a fair amount of people milling around the tables. If only she could just slip in between them and dart into the bushes, or go back inside and sit until it was over.
She decided to stop at the first table, reaching for a cracker with soft white cheese spread on it. Just as she did, her pinky finger bumped someone else’s.
“Oh, excuse me!” the owner of the finger said.
“Sorry.” Marianne withdrew her hand.
She turned toward the voice to face a brown-skinned boy with unruly dark hair and bright green eyes. One of his ears was pierced, and a short braid hung from the other side of his head, just brushing his shoulder. He wore a double-breasted black coat with tails trimmed in gold open over a yellow button-down, tucked into a pair of black trousers and covered with a golden vest. He sported the colors of the Alliance in gaudy finery, and his silver earring and the gold bead at the end of his braid complemented the flashiness of his outfit.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before,” the boy said.
“I don’t recognize you either.”
“I’m Claude.” He bowed, holding his hand to his chest and dipping his upper body. “Nice to meet you.”
Marianne nodded. She didn’t feel like lowering anything other than her head. “I’m Marianne. It’s a pleasure.”
He picked up a cracker spread with cheese and popped the entire thing in his mouth. Marianne took that as her cue to eat her own cracker. After he was done chewing, he said, “This is always the best part of these events. Sure, the dancing’s all right, but it pales in comparison to the free food.”
Marianne reached for another cracker topped with smoked salmon.
Claude winked. “I knew you’d agree with me.” He picked up another cracker and made short work of that one, too. “Well, Marianne, what family are you from?”
Marianne tensed, unsure what direction he intended to go with the question. “I’m from House Edmund.”
“House Edmund, moving up in the Alliance. I’ve heard good things about your father. I mean, I’ve chatted up a couple of these guys, so I’m getting a grasp on the general atmosphere. Good to get a feel for things and understand how they work.”
“I wish I understood how it worked.”
Claude snorted, which made Marianne flinch. “Same here. I’ve just been trying to tell them what they want to hear, but sometimes they get a little too nosy for my taste. You feel that way, too?”
Marianne nodded. “They’re so eager to pry. But I don’t really want to talk about myself. I doubt anyone would be interested in listening.”
“You think so?” Claude went for his third cracker, then pointed behind her. “Come on, let’s go down to the dessert table. Someone’s making eyes at me, plus the stuffed dates are down there, and I can’t get enough of those.”
He shoved the cracker in his mouth as they walked down the tables. Marianne inspected the desserts. There were, indeed, stuffed dates filled with white cream and slivered almonds. Claude reached for one as soon as he was done chewing his cracker. She hadn’t seen a noble eat like that since she’d lived at home with her parents.
Everyone always took “polite” amounts of food and didn’t always finish what was on their plate. But Claude didn’t care anything about being polite. As soon as he was done with one date, he was snatching another right up. Not that he hadn’t been courteous to her so far. Margrave Edmund would probably approve of all of his manners except for his relaxed speech and his eating habits.
“Anything catching your eye?” Claude said, standing on the opposite side of the dessert table.
She picked up a small meringue with half a strawberry on it and took a small bite. He nodded approvingly and walked around the table to stand beside her again. While she ate her dessert, she turned her head to look at him. He was watching the nobles milling about in the courtyard. A couple drops of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he delicately wiped them away with the handkerchief in the pocket of his overcoat.
“Aren’t you hot in all of that?” she asked.
“This is supposed to be a summer coat, but I don’t do particularly well in the humidity. I’m like a wyvern; I like the dry heat.”
“Like a wyvern?” She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.
He grinned. “See, you get what I mean! I like you, Marianne.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. Nobody liked her—and nobody should. But for some reason, she didn’t feel like correcting him.
“Um, maybe you should take your coat off?” she said, lowering her hand to rest at her side.
“Nah, I’m fine.” He returned the handkerchief to his pocket and turned to face her. “Have you ever been to one of these dances before?”
“I haven’t.”
“Your family never took you along?”
“It’s not that. I’m not really comfortable being around a lot of people, and I know that I make people uncomfortable, too.”
“I think everyone our age is a little uncomfortable. But I feel a bit less tense with you around.”
“Really?”
Claude smiled. She hadn’t noticed the freckles that decorated his cheeks and the bridge of his nose before. “Sure. It’s nice just to be able to talk casually. Not to have to go down the list of questions. Right?”
“Oh, um. Yes. It’s nice.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Marianne swallowed. Her throat suddenly felt dry. He was very talkative, but he didn’t set her on edge like other people did. His voice was calm and even, his easy, subtle smile like a fragment of sunlight.
“Do you like dancing?” Claude asked.
“I don’t know that I’m the best dancer. I’ll just get in my partner’s way, and we’ll trip all over everyone else.”
Across the courtyard, the band had started to tune. Noblemen were turning to their wives, and some pairs of younger people grabbed each other’s arms.
“I have it on authority from a band member I talked to that the first song’s going to be a waltz,” Claude said. “It’s not hard to follow, just a one-two-three pattern.”
Marianne frowned. “I’d rather not. With all these people around, I might step on someone’s foot. I wouldn’t want you to trip and fall.”
“Hey, there’s no need to worry. You know the ol’ trick?” Claude pointed to his feet.
“Huh?”
“Stand on my feet. Follow my steps. Yeah?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
“It won’t be difficult. It won’t be embarrassing, either. It’ll be fun. What do you say?”
Marianne wrung her hands. She began to say, “Um, I guess—” but had barely finished before the song started.
Claude extended his hand, bowing his head. “May I, Lady Edmund? You are the best-looking girl here, after all.”
He’d delivered it in a sort of inflated tone which made her think it was maybe just a joke, but it didn’t stop her heart from turning over in her chest, especially when he lifted his head, and his bright green eyes met hers, his easy smile never fading.
“Sure,” Marianne said, and he took his hand in hers, leading her out onto the floor.