Page 50 of The Farmer Has a Wife

Eleanor squeaked. Actually squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Get in the car.”

Danni chuckled, but obeyed, settling into the passenger seat. As they drove, Eleanor could feel Danni glancing at her, taking in the midnight blue dress she was wearing, the way it clung to her until it flared around her hips into wisps of material so light they were barely there.

For a second, she thought she might have to stop driving, might have to pull over.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Danni said, finally tearing her eyes away from Eleanor’s dress. “Are we expected to chase foxes around in ballgowns? Or do the foxes chase us?”

Eleanor shot her a look. “It’s a social event. The social event of the summer, actually. A chance for those of a certain level of society to drink very expensive champagne and gossip.”

Danni pulled a face. “Sounds unbearable. How much champagne will I need to drink in order to survive?”

Eleanor smiled. “At least three glasses.”

Danni grinned. “Noted, Princess.”

???

The Hunt Ball was even more extravagant than Danni had expected. It was held on the estate of someone that Danni immediately forgot the name of, some distant relative of Eleanor’s. But then, as Eleanor pointed out, she was related in some way, shape, or form to everyone at the ball.

There were grand chandeliers, flowers in vases bigger than Danni’s entire body, their scent mixing with that of expensive perfume and aged whiskey. Couples waltzed to the sound of a string quartet, and waiters in crisp uniforms floated through the room with silver trays of champagne glasses.

Danni, standing close to the entrance, let out a low whistle. “And here was me thinking that your old pile was fancy.”

Eleanor smothered a laugh. “Try not to look too impressed.”

“I’m not impressed, I’m wondering how much their electric bill must be,” Danni said.

Before Eleanor could reply, a too-familiar voice cut through the crowd. “Eleanor, darling, and you’ve brought the help.”

Beatrice Allenton.

Both Danni and Eleanor turned, and Danni could feel Eleanor tense. Beatrice, her supercilious face over-made up, was standing in front of them, looking Danni up and down with a disdainful smirk.

“Farmers at the Hunt Ball,” she said. “How… modern.”

Danni saw Eleanor’s temper flare, saw the flush rise in her cheeks. “At least Danni owns her farm. That’s more than can be said for most of the people in this room. I hear that a lot of these big estates are being mortgaged nowadays.”

Beatrice turned red and then mauve as Eleanor looped her arm through Danni’s and swept them both away.

“You do know that the farm’s mortgaged too, right?” Danni said once they were out of hearing range.

“Not the point,” Eleanor said. “Honestly, she makes me so…”

“So it was your turn to defend my honor,” said Danni, grinning. “Can’t say I don’t like it.”

Eleanor turned to her and, to Danni’s surprise, grinned right back. “I suppose I did do that, didn’t I?”

“You really do care,” Danni said.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s dance.”

???

On the dance floor, Eleanor felt strangely… light. Danni’s hand was firm at her waist, grounding her, their fingers were entwined as they moved together. Danni’s fresh scent was in her nose, and it was all she could do to keep from pressing against her.

Danni didn’t help.

“So,” she said, moving in, voice low. “How scandalized do you think the aristocracy would be if I kissed you right now, right here?”

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