Page 29 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
If there was a next time, they could win. She would show all of those dragoneers with full nests that Longbourn house was a fine partner for breeding into their lines.
If there was a next time, she and Lelantos might be injured. One of them might even die. She had been scared of racing the first and second times, but had been brave enough to proceed. Would she be brave enough the third time, with her shoulder still healing, to leap into the derby again?
But would she forgive herself if she gave up now, when they were so close to saving Longbourn? When one more race might tip the scales in their favor?
“I might not need to race again. A house might already want Lelantos in their lines,” Valeraine said.
Her sisters accepted this answer. At least, Alyce didn’t press the issue further.
Valeraine was uncomfortable with it. She was terrified of getting back in the air, and yet she didn’t feel like she could stay tethered, either.
She would be disappointed if her excuse for flying was gone, she realized.
Merna helped her secure her stays and the buttons of her gown.
Selaide was rougher than she needed to be doing Valeraine’s brunette hair, tugging firmly. She styled it in an elaborate bun, with portions braided and other portions loose and curled, decorated with tasteful beads and scales she placed with her sharp eye.
Valeraine could acknowledge Selaide had an eye for hair. Looking at herself fancifully done up in the mirror, she felt ready to attend the ball. Who knows, she might even find a handsome man to dance with. Perhaps even Kesley might be impressed at her beauty.
Chapter twenty-four
Valeraine had thought the ball at Netherfield was extravagantly grand.
The ball at Rosings outshone it completely.
The ballroom was easily twice the size, a cavernous space with oil paintings on the walls of dragoneers from Rosings house. There were five chandeliers throughout the room, each hung with dozens of glittering candles, sparkling light through clever glass facets. The wood floor was painted with a damask pattern — a design that certainly needed regular refreshing as the dancing guests wore away at it. A full quartet played on a raised stage, performing reels and waltzes in turn. The room was comfortably full, enough to give life to the space without being overly crowded. Some of the guests Valeraine recognized: dragoneers and their families. Some were people who must have come from Kinellan City, with fashions that looked unusual and flamboyant to her provincial eye.
Mamma had many plans for Valeraine to dance with every eligible bachelor and dazzle them with her beauty, wit, and proficiency with dragons (which would likely translate to excellence in hatch-mothering).
Valeraine had plans to rest her weary arm and support Alyce in wooing Mr. Nethenabbi. Alyce’s ankle had recovered enough to give a few dances, at least, and all of them were earmarked for her suitor. They were standing on the side of the ballroom, watching the beautiful crowd, watching for —
“There he is — in the yellow,” Alyce said. She gave a little sigh of happiness to punctuate her discovery. “I believe I’ve seen him in that jacket before, the day we had the peppermint tea together.”
“Go on,” Valeraine said. “If you’re with him when the music starts, he’ll ask you to dance.”
“I don’t want to twist him into anything,” Alyce protested. “What if he doesn’t wish to dance with me? I shall wait here.”
Nethenabbi, across the ballroom’s elegantly painted floor, was laughing at something Nedine had said while Pemberley loomed next to him.
Valeraine offered her arm to Alyce. “I will go to them. You won’t leave me to fend off Pemberley by myself, will you?”
Alyce smiled, happy to be caught in her sister’s manipulations.
Approaching the group, Valeraine regretted her resolution to play matchmaker.
Pemberley had spotted her coming, and his grim face had become more severe. Did he suspect she was the masked rider? He couldn’t. He thought it was a boy, not yet into his full stature, not a woman in a dark blue gown and delicately styled hair. Who would ever suspect a lady of derbying? It was unthinkable, Valeraine comforted herself. Pemberley only glared at her because he found her unsightly, too independent in how sheused her dragon for transportation, and overly outspoken. In short, he hated her because he was an odious fool.
Alyce and Valeraine curtsied to the group and received bows and curtsies in response.
“Miss Alyce,” Nethenabbi greeted, “It’s wonderful to see you. I’ve reserved the slowest dances of the night for you, so you needn’t strain your ankle. If it isn’t too much of an imposition for me to say, that is.” He added as an afterthought, “And Miss Valeraine, it’s good to see you as well.”
“The pleasure is ours,” Alyce said. “Without your generous introduction, Longbourn would not have been invited to the derby.” She said to Pemberley, “Congratulations on your victory.”
“My dragon is well bred and trained. I win a majority of the derbies that I enter,” Pemberley said.
Nedine laughed as if he had said something especially witty. “He does! Pemberley house produces the best dragons, after the Nethenabbi nests.”
“In a hundred years, Netherfield will be the best,” Mr. Nethenabbi declared.
