Page 31 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
Near the end of the ball, Mr. Pemberley approached their group. He had danced a few times with Nedine, once with another lady, but had spent most of the ball lightly chatting with dragoneers. “Miss Longbourn,” he said formally, “may I have this dance?” It was clear from his gaze that he did not mean Merna. Likely Nethenabbi had engineered this, trying to repair the mess of the last ball.
Valeraine said, “I do not think —”
“Of course she will dance with you,” Mamma exclaimed. “She would be delighted to accompany the winner of the derby.”
Pemberley nodded, accepting this as his due, and held out his hand to Valeraine.
She could protest; she wanted to protest. There was nobody she wanted to dance with less. A dance with Pemberley would be minutes of being insulted and belittled. However, if she protested, her mother would only counter. They would attract attention, and embarrass Longbourn in front of a crowd of dragoneers.
The prelude to the song was starting, a sedate waltz.
Valeraine took Pemberley’s hand. Through the gloves he wore, she couldn’t tell if his hand was warm or cold. It was just assured as it glided along and led her onto the floor.
Chapter twenty-five
Pemberley’s touch was politely light on her left hip, his hand reassuringly neutral gripping her right hand, outstretched together.
The dance began, and they gently spun.
Pemberley looked at their feet, and the beautiful flooring beneath. He looked around the room, at all the other couples, maybe searching for Nethenabbi or his Nedine. His eyes would occasionally rest on Valeraine’s hair, no doubt admiring Selaide’s impressive handiwork.
Valeraine had an absurd urge to tell him she hadn’t crafted the hairstyle, that it wasn’t her fault if he found it alluring. She didn’t want him making conclusions about her, particularly false ones.
Pemberley didn’t speak. Valeraine was comfortable with that. It was really the best possible situation, because then he could not insult her. She would not argue back. She knew that by starting conversation, his distaste for her would only be further revealed.
Why had he asked her to dance? Was it a chance to admire her flaws? To prove to someone she was poor at dancing, as he had claimed at the last ball? Or was it just as a favor to Nethenabbi, reluctantly done?
Valeraine knew that by speaking, she was only opening herself up to ridicule.
“This is when one of us should comment on something banal,” she said. She needed to know what insulting and distasteful thoughts were brewing in his mind. The silence was taunting her, hunting her, had caught her in its trap.
“Like what?” Pemberley asked.
“The flooring is impressive,” Valeraine said.
“It is. We have a similar design at my manor.”
“Now that I have said something, it is your turn to add to the exchange.”
They instead turned with the dance, round and round, for a few measures.
“You’re an adequate dancer, well practiced,” Pemberley said.
“Fully adequate, am I? What a compliment. Next you will be telling me of my beautiful dress.”
“I believe your gown is several years out of style, as judged by women in Kinellan City.”
“There.” This had been a terrible idea from the beginning. “I have said something, and you now have. We may now be silent.”
Pemberley followed this direction for a few more turns of the dance. Then, he said, “I asked your sister Alyce, and she said that you are the hatch-mother of Longbourn.”
“Longbourn has not had a hatchling in hundreds of years,” Valeraine said. He already knew this. He was rubbing in the inferiority of Longbourn, emphasizing their stagnation.
“Yes. But if therewereone, it would fall to your care. You have never been trained with hatchlings, though? Perhaps I could provide instruction for you.”
“You do not know me, or the business of being a hatch-mother.” Valeraine would obtain an egg for Longbourn, and she would excel at taming it. There was no other option; she would not allow herself to fail.
“A woman is born to be a hatch-mother, with gentleness and instinct,” Pemberley said. “Though all your expertise is in retiring a dragon, not ushering in the new.”
