Chapter Text
“Yasmin Khan!” her mother screeched as she tore into the sitting room. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Yaz looked up from her book. “I told you I wasn’t going.”
Najia huffed. “Hakim, tell your daughter she needs to get dressed for the ball.”
Her father poked his head out of his study. “Why?”
Najia looked at him incredulously. “Because she is nearly twenty-three years old and still isn’t married, and there will be eligible suitors there tonight!”
Yaz sighed. “Mum—”
“How do I look?” Yaz looked up to see her sister, Sonya, spinning around in a pale blue dress.
“Oh, darling,” Najia said, her attention temporarily diverted. “You look gorgeous. If you don’t find a husband by the end of the night, I will be astounded.”
Sonya turned to Yaz, a hesitant look on her face.
“You look lovely,” Yaz said reassuringly.
Sonya smiled before shifting into a smirk. “One of us has to.”
Of course. Her sister couldn’t be vulnerable for long.
“Whatever, idiot,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes.
“Language!” Najia admonished. “Now, Yasmin, go get ready. I’ve laid out the wine-coloured dress for you.”
“Mum—”
“ Go, or you’ll not be allowed out of the house for a week,” her mother ordered.
Yaz sighed. She knew that there was no way her mother would be able to enforce that, but she also didn’t feel like fighting her anymore.
One night. She could get through one night. Especially since she’d get to see her best friend, Sybill—or Bill, as she preferred to be called.
“Fine,” Yaz muttered, setting down her book. “I’ll go get ready.”
“I knew you’d see sense,” Najia said happily. “The carriage will leave at half six to take you two there. Be ready.”
***
The ballroom was already bustling at Lady Violet Thompson’s estate when they arrived. Drinks were being poured, little hors d’oeuvres were being carried around by staff on rose gold plates, and many had already begun dancing. Lady Violet had spared no expense for this ball, it seemed.
“Supposedly Lady Violet’s cousin is visiting town,” Sonya murmured as they looked around. “Lady Eleanor Brown. And she’s bringing her friend Mr. Ryan Sinclair. Mum heard from Mrs. Wallace that he is a man of good fortune in search of a wife.”
“And clearly, that wife should be you?” Yaz teased.
Sonya shrugged. “I suppose we’ll see. They should be here soon.”
As if on cue, a murmur began going through the crowd, everyone bustling towards the front doors where Lady Violet stood.
“Thank you all so very much for being here with us tonight,” the woman said, her voice carrying throughout the room. “I have been looking forward to the arrival of my beloved cousin for quite some time now, and I am most grateful to share her with you. Please welcome Lady Eleanor Brown and her friend, Mr. Ryan Sinclair!”
The crowd hushed as the front doors opened and the two people in question walked inside, taking in their environment.
“Look how handsome,” Sonya breathed beside her. “He’s so tall.”
“Of course he is, compared to you,” Yaz teased.
“Oh, do shut up. You’re barely taller than me,” Sonya grumbled quietly. “His friend seems a bit stoic, doesn’t she?”
“She does,” Yaz murmured. Stoic–and one of the most beautiful people Yaz had ever seen. Beautiful…and strangely handsome. Piercing hazel eyes flickered around the room; blonde hair cut into a bob framed a sharp jawline. She carried herself proudly, head held high.
The woman–Lady Eleanor, apparently–was dressed in menswear rather than a gown, which Yaz had to admit intrigued her. It suited the blonde, certainly—Yaz realised she didn’t even know the woman, yet couldn’t imagine her in a dress.
Yaz’s breath caught when their eyes met across the room, her heart starting to race. Which was ridiculous, really.
As quickly as their eyes had met, Lady Eleanor looked away, her face smoothing into an expression of utter indifference.
Yaz looked down at her shoes, annoyed that the blonde’s clear disregard for her bothered her so much.
“My dear Lady Eleanor,” Lady Violet said grandly, walking up and giving both of them a kiss on the cheek. Yaz couldn’t help but notice the slight look of discomfort on the blonde’s face. “Mr. Sinclair. Thank you so very much for coming. And now, let us all be merry!”
The room quickly became bustling with activity once more, some heading for the refreshment table as others began to dance.
Yaz began moving towards the punch when she was intercepted by Bill.
“Yaz,” her curly-haired friend said excitedly. “What do you think of them?”
“Of who?” Yaz said, feigning ignorance.
“You know who,” Bill whined. “Lady Eleanor and Mr. Sinclair. She’s absolutely breathtaking, is she not?”
Yaz’s gaze drifted over to where the blonde stood, apart from the crowd. “She is quite something, for certain.”
“I see Sonya has rather quickly caught Mr. Sinclair’s eye, as well,” Bill said, raising an eyebrow towards Yaz’s sister, who was currently dancing with the man of the hour. “Your mother would be ecstatic at such a match.”
“That she would,” Yaz murmured.
“And how is your father doing?” Bill asked. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him.”
“Oh, you know,” Yaz said, a fond smile spreading across her face. “Always lost in those books of his.”
“Sounds familiar,” Bill teased.
“It’s not my fault that books are more interesting than a majority of the people here,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes. “So much vanity and shallowness in one room. It’s exhausting.”
“Oh, don’t be so proud, Yaz,” Bill said. “Not everyone here is like that.”
“Maybe not everyone,” Yaz conceded. “But–oh, look. There’s Mr. Willoughby,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Over by the punch table. Surprised he’s not dancing with any young girl he can find.”
Bill snorted. “He really does give me quite an ick.”
One of the staff walked by, offering them a tiny cucumber sandwich off their tray which Bill and Yaz both accepted.
“Didn’t realise how hungry I was until this,” Yaz remarked. “Forgot to eat before I came.”
“Too busy with your nose buried in a book?” Bill teased. “You know, you could be out here living a real romance instead of reading them all the time. And don’t pretend you don’t read them,” Bill said, stopping Yaz’s protest. “I’ve seen the ones you keep in your bedside drawer.”
“You’re such a snoop,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes. “Besides, no one is as wonderful in real life as they are in books.”
“How can you know, if you don’t get to know anyone?” Bill replied. “And don’t say you know me; we both know that would never work.”
Yaz laughed, remembering how the two used to sneak around as teenagers, trading stolen kisses in the forest. She loved Bill, truly, but the two of them knew they would never enter into a marriage together. Bill was meant to be her best friend, nothing more than that.
“Maybe marriage just isn’t for me,” Yaz said with a shrug. “I know my mother worries, but a woman can make a nice enough life for herself without marrying someone for money.”
“Marriage for love does still exist, you know. Your parents, for instance.”
“They were some of the lucky ones.”
“Yaz–” Bill broke off, her eyes widening as she looked towards the punch table again. “Oh, dear,” she breathed. “Quick, Yaz. We’ve been spotted. Mr. Willoughby is walking towards us.”
Bill grabbed Yaz’s arm and dragged her through the crowd and over behind the stairs, both of them trying to silence their childish laughter as they hid from the obnoxious man.
A few moments later, Yaz was surprised to hear Lady Eleanor and Ryan on the other side of the staircase.
“Come now, Nor. Don’t pout.”
“You know I hate being called a lady,” the blonde replied. “These sorts of things are always so exhausting.”
How curious , Yaz thought. Most nobles insisted upon being called by their title. This woman–Eleanor–was growing more intriguing by the minute.
“But you can meet so many interesting people. Sonya Khan, for instance, is one of the most interesting creatures I have ever beheld,” Ryan said. “And quite beautiful.”
“She seems like a handful,” Eleanor replied dryly.
“What do you think of her sister?” Ryan said curiously. “She is also quite stunning, is she not?”
There was a pause. “She’s…tolerable, I suppose,” Eleanor finally said. “Though not enough to tempt me.”
Yaz saw Bill start to move, eyes ablaze. She grabbed the woman’s hand, pulling her back.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “It’s not worth it.”
“I’ll show her tolerable,” Bill muttered. “What a—”
“Bill,” Yaz insisted. “Shh.”
“Eleanor,” Ryan sighed.
“Think I fancy a glass of punch,” Eleanor said, ignoring him. “Care to join me?”
Their footsteps faded, and Bill turned to Yaz.
“Don’t worry about her,” she said. “What do you need with someone so absolutely full of themself?”
“Exactly,” Yaz said with a laugh, though she couldn’t deny the words had still stung.
***
Yaz was walking towards the punch table when she was stopped by Lady Violet, who was chatting with Eleanor and Ryan.
“Yasmin, my dear!” Lady Violet crowed, clearly several drinks into her night. “Come meet Lady Eleanor and Ryan.”
Yaz bit back a sigh, forcing a polite smile. “She’s…tolerable, I suppose.” “Hello,” she said as she curtsied. “Lovely to meet you both.”
“I was just telling Lady Eleanor that she needs to get out there and dance a bit,” Lady Violet explained. “She’s barely moved from her corner all night.”
“Dancing isn’t something I really do,” Eleanor said, her lips pressed together into a forced smile.
“You simply must dance,” Lady Violet insisted. “Miss Khan here would be a lovely partner.”
Both Yaz and Eleanor started to speak at the same time.
“Oh, I—”
“I really don’t—”
“Nonsense!” Lady Violet said happily. “Maestro, a waltz, please.”
The conductor nodded, directing the string quartet into a gentle movement.
Eleanor looked at Yaz warily.
“Go on, then,” Lady Violet encouraged, starting to move back towards the refreshments table. “Or I’ll be very cross with you.”
Yaz pressed her lips together, reluctantly following Eleanor to the dance floor and resting a hand on her shoulder as her other hand found its place in the blonde’s.
For a moment, she wondered what it would feel like if they weren’t wearing gloves, whether the blonde’s skin would be warm or cool to the touch against her own. Quickly banishing that thought from her mind, she began the steps, the dance muscle memory by this point.
Eleanor looked positively pained as they spun around, and Yaz began to feel a bit annoyed. She was a good dancer—she’d always had a talent for it—so she knew it had nothing to do with her skill. Was she truly so abhorrent that it hurt the woman to dance with her?
Clenching her jaw, Yaz stepped on her foot.
Eleanor inhaled sharply, wincing as she stepped back. She looked at Yaz, her brows furrowed.
“I do apologise,” Yaz said, a saccharine smile on her face. “I fear my dancing skills are only tolerable.”
Yaz saw Eleanor’s eyes widen before she spun on her heel and walked away, feeling a sense of satisfaction at being able to throw the blonde off her game.
***
“You did what? ” Najia nearly screeched.
“It was an accident, Mum,” Yaz said innocently.
“Yasmin Khan, you are a gifted dancer and have been since you were three. Don’t you pretend any differently.”
“She was so rude, Mum!” Yaz said indignantly. “And I barely even stepped on her toe.”
“She had to ask Lady Violet for ice to stop the swelling!” Najia exclaimed.
Yaz shrugged. “She must have sensitive feet, then.”
“Yasmin,” her mother huffed. “Are you trying to become an old maid? And how do you think this reflects on your sister, hmm?”
“Sonya will be fine,” Yaz muttered. “Everyone adores her.”
“Lady Eleanor is Mr. Sinclair’s best friend,” Najia said. “Do you think she will whisper kindly in his ear about Sonya if you go around literally stepping on her toes?”
“I don’t think she’d whisper kindly about her anyway,” Yaz retorted. “She thinks she’s better than us.”
“Yasmin,” Najia admonished. “Don’t be rude.”
Yaz sighed. “It’s late, Mum. Can I please go to bed?”
“Fine,” Najia said, crossing her arms. “But the next time you see Lady Eleanor, you are going to apologise.”
“Mum!”
“That was an order, not a request,” Najia said sternly. “I’ll see you for breakfast in the morning.”
Yaz watched in disbelief as her mother went to her room.
Apologise.
To someone who could barely deign to look at her.
Yaz spun on her heel and went to her sister’s room, where Sonya sat atop the bed.
“Mum finally finished with you?” Sonya asked, a smirk on her face.
“Shut up,” Yaz replied, rolling her eyes. “Here, help me with my corset and I’ll help with yours.”
As Sonya worked on undoing Yaz’s laces, Yaz sighed. “Did you have fun tonight, at least?”
“I did,” Sonya answered. “Mr. Sinclair is a lovely dancer. And quite charming, I must say.”
“Yeah?”
Sonya hummed. “I think there’s more to him than meets the eye, honestly.”
Yaz turned to look at her. “Sounds like you really like him.”
“Well,” Sonya said. “I’d like the chance to get to know him more, certainly.” She turned around for Yaz to undo her laces. “Sounds to me like you and Lady Eleanor really hit it off.”
“Don’t even start,” Yaz muttered. “She’s so arrogant.”
“Mr. Sinclair adores her,” Sonya said. “There must be something beneath that cold exterior.”
“I hope I never have to find out,” Yaz said. “If I never see that woman again, it will be too soon.”
Sonya hummed. “If you say so.”
“I do,” Yaz said sternly as she finished Sonya’s laces. “And that’s the end of it.”
Sonya’s eyes were filled with mirth as she turned around. “Goodnight, Yaz.”
Yaz murmured a goodnight as she went to her own room, slipping into her nightgown and crawling into bed.
She quickly grew frustrated as sleep refused to take her, thoughts of Eleanor clouding her mind.
Their eyes meeting across the room. Her hand around Yaz’s waist. The feeling of their bodies close together as they danced.
She threw her pillow over her face, desperate to drown out all thoughts of the blonde.
She wasn’t interested in her.
She wasn’t.
The woman was arrogant, self-centered, and rude. She clearly wanted nothing to do with Yaz, and Yaz felt the same way. And hopefully, the woman would be leaving town soon and Yaz would never have to see her again.
And if that thought made Yaz’s heart ache, she would never admit it. Not to anyone.
Not in a million years.