Ned took a step back.Ī ruckus of servants descended on them. Madeline shrieked, Lady Petulant gasped, the dog barked. Miniature daisies and roses shaped in marzipan flew around them. As she prepared to stand, she lifted her hand from the arm of her chair, gave her fan a downward flick-and the tray flipped. The tray of marzipan sat at the very edge of the table between their chairs. And if he drew her away from Lady Petulant-she would not give up that ground. Giving a little smile that supplanted the stricken look in his eyes, he stood and offered his hand. She didn’t need another dance this evening, and she most certainly did not want to dance with him again. She stared in silence, her wit failing her. You two obviously know each other quite well. Lady Petulant gestured a gloved hand toward the open floor. Unpalatable, really.”Īnd so it went, until the orchestra roused them with another chord. I’ve always found sherry to be rather too sweet. “I’m very sorry, Miss Madeline, but I don’t seem to have an extra glass to offer you.” “Thank you, that would be lovely.” Lady Petulant took the glass and sipped. “Sherry, Lady Petulant?” Ned put forward a crystal glass which he’d got from God knew where. “Marzipan, Lady Petulant?” she said, presenting the tray. When he bowed to offer her one, she took the whole tray. “You are too kind!”Ī servant passed with a silver tray of sweets. “Why, how thoughtful! Isn’t he a thoughtful gentleman, Frufru darling? Say thank you.” She lifted the creature’s paw and shook it at Ned. “I do believe I’ve found the ideal treat for your little dear,” he said, kneeling before her and offering a bite-sized pastry to the dog. When Ned appeared and gave greeting, she was ecstatic. So when Madeline stopped to chat with her, she was cheerful. Her fortune was entailed, bestowed upon her heirs and not a second husband, so no suitors paid her court. White powder caked the wrinkles of her face. The lady was a widow, rich but no longer young. The diamond, large as a walnut, glittered against the peach-colored satin of her bodice.įor the next fifteen minutes, Madeline engaged in harmless conversation, insinuating herself into Lady Petulant’s good graces. Drifting off in a rustle of satin, she moved to the empty chair near Lady Petulant. Madeline begged off the next, fanning herself and complaining of the heat. With a few measures of dancing, a charge of power crept into Madeline’s bones, enough energy to take her anywhere: London 1590. She curtseyed, kept one eye on Lady Petulant, holding court over a tray of bonbons and a rat-like lap dog, and the other on Ned. The figure of the dance wheeled her away and gave her to another partner, an old man whose wig was slipping over one ear. Opening her fan with a jerk of her wrist, she looked over her shoulder. “You’re after Lady Petulant’s diamond brooch.” “I know why you’re here,” he said, when they stepped close enough for conversation. He wore a young man’s short wig powdered to perfection. He wore dark green velvet trimmed with white and gold, sea spray of lace at the cuffs and collar.
Elegant steps made graceful turns, a leisurely pace allowed her to study him. They raised their arms-their hands never quite touched-and began to dance. He made a precise turn of his hand and never broke eye contact.
Clothed in white silk stockings and velvet breeches, one leg straightened as the other leg stepped back. Ned bowed, a gesture as practiced as hers. She curtseyed-low enough to allure, but not so low as to unnecessarily expose décolletage.
The orchestra’s strings played the opening strains of a Mozart piece. “Any doorways you expected to be there not opening. “I’ve been meaning to ask you: Have you noticed anything strange on your last few expeditions?” “Ah yes.” He leaned close, to converse without being overheard. “How long has it been? Two, three hundred years? That volta in Florence, wasn’t it?” “Fancy? You’re pleased to see me then?” he said, smiling his insufferably ironic smile. “Ned, fancy meeting you here.” Madeline deftly shifted so that her voluminous skirts were not trod upon. Taking Madeline’s hand, he shouldered her bewildered former partner out of the way and turned her toward the hall where couples gathered for the next figure. He emerged suddenly from behind a potted shrub. Series: The Tales of Gorlen Vizenfirthe.Series: From the Lost Travelers’ Tour Guide.People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction!.
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