Moth and Spark (29 page)

He laughed. “Done. If I just sit down . . .”

“I think that would help a great deal.”

“And your partner, why has he left you here to myself and the other wolves? Do not tell me he has been such a cad as to abandon you.”

“I don’t believe he expected there to be quite so many,” she said honestly.

“He must be young. A beautiful face that has not been seen before is to men as a candle-flame to moths,” he said.

For just an instant she remembered the darkness fluttering out of Cade’s mouth. Her skin pricked. But she could not think about such things now. It was the ball, and a duke was waiting for her to introduce herself. Mattan had probably made the comment a dozen times to other women, and she thought cynically that it was the diamond necklace that really drew the men. Best to disillusion him at once.

She said, “I hope they would not be too disappointed to learn a face is all I have to give them, my lord, whether they are wolves or moths. I’ve no title at all.”

“That need not be a concern at a mere ball,” he said. He took her hand and kissed it, his dark eyes sparkling. Damn. “You do have a name?”

“Tam Warin, my lord.” She said it with downcast eyes. She had trapped herself by her own request, but she could perhaps be less interesting. She hoped Corin would not see. Why had she come for the first dance at all?

“Tam. Liddean, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, sir.” A sustained measure of music finally came.

“I hate to see you sitting here alone for the first dance.”

“In truth, my lord, as this is my first ball here, I very much wish to watch. There are so many people I do not know yet. Perhaps you will tell me who is who.” Then her tongue betrayed her again. “Unless there is a lady who might think you a cad for abandoning her?”

“I don’t have a chance with you, do I?” he said cheerfully.

“Not a bit,” Tam said, relieved. There was no displeasure or seriousness on his face.

“He’s a lucky man. Well, if I can’t charm you I can at least entertain you. But I have to warn you that I don’t know all the current scandals.”

And then there was a real swell of music, and the talking quieted, and the people standing found chairs or leaned out of the way against the wall. The ball had begun.

It was beautiful in its way, the perfect circles each couple made as they traveled the larger circle, and the colorful wide sweeping circles of the skirts. The lights were low and golden, the music rich and resonant. Corin was a good dancer, and she would have enjoyed watching him if she had not even known him. His sister was better, but he kept up with her. They looked very much alike. Mari, much to Tam’s self-righteous pleasure, wore a deep green gown without the slightest hint of rose. She was tall also, though fair-haired. Corin kept his attention focused on his sister and did not look in Tam’s direction at all.

Mattan turned out to be a useful companion, as he knew who almost everybody was. If he did not know all the current scandals he certainly knew many of the old ones, and he could be delightfully caustic. Now that he had stopped seducing her, she found that she liked him. He pointed out an attractive red-haired woman dancing with a much older man, smiling falsely. “There’s a scandal in the making,” he said. “Duke Simoun and his wife Seana. Now that she’s been dropped by His Highness, she’s going to have to look elsewhere, and she’s not going to find anyone else who can get around the duke so well.”

“Dropped?” she asked, knowing she should not. She was afraid of hearing something that would taint Corin for her, even if she did not believe it.

“With a crash. There’s Corin now, with his sister. He’s getting slipperier every year.”

Tam changed the subject somehow, then looked for other people she knew. Cina, having an absent husband, was sitting on the other side of the room speaking with several other women. The young married women whose husbands were not present would dance later, with very carefully selected partners. Jenet and Darrin were dancing with each other as though they were the only people in the room. They both
looked very young. Alina was dancing with a dark-haired, thin-faced, handsome man, who had his hand lower on her waist than he should have.

He turned his head. Tam met his eyes. They burned into her. He hits her, she thought. She looked away quickly. “Who is that?” she asked Mattan.

He frowned. “Arnet. A girl that young should avoid him. I hope she has a friend to warn her. He’s only a baron, but he has plenty of power.”

Corin had warned her against him, but he had been vague. Seeing him, she had no need for the warning. She hoped he would not remember her. Alina would point her out, though, there was no chance of being ignored. “Why should she stay away from him?”

“He’ll use her until he’s bored, then cast her off with nothing. There’s four girls I can think of without even trying who made much poorer marriages than they should have because they let him have them first.”

She wondered how much “letting” was involved, but she was not about to argue such things with him now. Alina, that fool, would play right into his hands. That kind of girl always did; she had seen enough of them begging her father for help. Then it occurred to her that Alina might know exactly what she was doing. She looked again at Arnet and tried to imagine him in a rainy courtyard at night. Perhaps. He was tall enough. She would have to see him walk.

She could not discuss that with Mattan, though. “What if she made that mistake with some other man?”

“If he was a proper lover, no one would ever know. And even if it came out, he’d only need to pay for her to go abroad for a year in high style, and by the time she came back it would all have been ‘forgotten.’ That’s not Arnet’s way. He’s cruel to his tenants, too.”

That would be why Corin had called him vicious. It did not reassure her.

Mattan added, “His wife was found hanged a few years back. He killed her one way or the other, and everyone knows it. If she really did commit suicide, he drove her to it. Is that girl a friend of yours?”

“Not a friend, only an acquaintance I don’t much care for. But I don’t wish her harm.”

“Someone else will have to charm her away from him,” he remarked. “She’d probably end up with a broken heart, but that will have to happen sometime, won’t it.”

“I’d advise you not to try it yourself, my lord,” she said. “You’d tire of her in about two minutes and it would take much longer to shake her off.”

“Pity,” he said. “She’s got quite a nice figure.”

Was that all men thought about? With Alina, however, that was all she wanted them to think about.

When the dance ended, Corin was somewhere at the top of the room. She stood up. It felt too conspicuous to wait for him. “If you will excuse me, my lord,” she said. “I have enjoyed our conversation.”

“I as well,” he said. “If your gentleman does turn out a cad, I should like to be the first to tell him so.”

The floor was crowded enough that she was afraid the next dance would begin before she reached him. But when she had finally curtsied and smiled and excused her way through, it had not.

He was talking to someone, and she watched a moment, enjoying looking at him when he was not aware of her. There was what she expected was a usual cluster of men around him, wineglasses in their hands, their voices confident and loud. All the worry she had felt earlier came rushing back.

He turned, saw her. His face lit up like a boy’s, and he passed his glass off to another man without even looking at him. She felt a surge of love. When they met he moved her expertly into the dance circle; the music started before they had time to say more than a few commonplace things to each other.

They were observed. It made her nervous and she missed a step. He said, “Don’t mind them.”

“How did you know?”

“Because they’re always there. Like flies, circling, buzzing close when they get a chance. Difficult to swat.”

She took some time to answer, said, “That sounds a lot like a whine, Corin.”

“I suppose it was.” He did not sound repentant. But after a few more beats he said, seriously, “You’re right. I will do better.” Then he smiled at her, that soft sweet smile of his, and she found herself melting.

She was careful not to stare too long into his eyes, that was too intimate for public. His hand was firm and warm against her back. He did not say much, just looked at her.

“You know,” she said, “I loved you from the moment I saw you, before I even knew who you were.”

“When was that?”

“When you came back from the north. You were very muddy. I thought you were a soldier.”

“How long was it before you were disillusioned?”

“Seconds. I was disappointed.”

“You aren’t now, are you?” he asked. “If you prefer me muddy I can oblige.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, smiling, laughing, full of wanting. They touched each other but were so far apart in the formal positions.

Corin said, “Do you like Mattan?”

“I didn’t know you saw.”

“I notice most things,” he said, and there was something quite serious about it. His eyes must be busy constantly, so he was not caught by surprise, so he could adjust to the smallest changes before others did. It seemed a hard way to live.

“He made himself very agreeable,” she said. “I liked him. But I don’t know if I would trust him with anything I cared much about. He seemed impulsive.”

“I have that feeling too. But in all fairness to him, he’s never given me reason for it. He’s got his province well in hand and prosperous. His villagers like him, and so do his barons, which is not an easy combination to achieve.” His eyes reminded her that war was on its way. And Harin would take the first blows.

“He’s clever. I promised him a dance.” She told of their bargain.

He said, “You realize he got the better of you, don’t you?”

“How so?”

“He would have stayed talking to you and keeping the others away even if you hadn’t said you would dance. The art of power, my love, is making people give you something for nothing and think they are being rewarded in the process. He’s quite good at it.”

It sounded very cold. She remembered again that she had seen only the gentler side of him.

“And you haven’t learned yet how much power you have,” he added. “You are so astonishingly beautiful that he would easily have given you something for nothing.”

“I’m not going to manipulate people like that!”

“No. You’re direct and forthright. You would rather win with logic
than anything else. But if you stay with me, people will try to manipulate you, and you have to be able to defend yourself. You’re going to have to behave in ways you don’t like, Tam.”

She knew he was right. That was what he meant about her having political value. It would have been better to stay hidden. They were already past the freedom of just loving. “You don’t mind about it, do you?” she asked uncertainly.

“About the dance? No. And if I did, it wouldn’t signify. I’m not your master, Tam. You make your own choices. I don’t need to be jealous.” He smiled his own most sly smile and said, “Besides, I’ll enjoy watching you.”

“I’m sure you won’t be the only one,” she said, and saw that her dig had been quite as effective as his. “You can’t monopolize me, you know.”

“I can and I will,” he said, still grinning. “What’s the use of rank and power if not for that? You haven’t made any other bad bargains, have you?”

“No.” Then she remembered. “Worse. Oh, Corin, I made an awful mistake. I was rude to the Duke of Dele.”

“You were rude to the Duke of Dele.” His tone gave no hint as to whether he was angry.

“I didn’t know he was the duke, I do have more sense than that.”

“But you did mean to be rude, no doubt?”

“I couldn’t help it. I very politely told him that I was engaged for the first three dances, and he demanded the fourth. So I said I had decided to give it to a gentleman.”

He stifled a laugh. “Did anyone else hear?”

“A number of people, I think.”

“When that gets around you are going to be the most popular person at court,” he said. “He’s an arrogant bastard who needs to be taken down every so often. But Tam, despite that, you have to be more careful.”

“I know,” she said, looking down. It was a well-deserved rebuke. “What should I do?”

“Don’t worry about it at this point. You can give him a polite and proper and sincere apology tomorrow after he’s had time to cool off. Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “Is he going to think you put me up to it?”

“I doubt it. He knows me well enough to know I don’t work that way.
When you talk to him, be careful not to make excuses or blame a wayward tongue. As soon as you start explaining yourself he has you in his power. Just apologize.”

“I can’t give myself airs,” she said. “He outranks me.”

“Not now he doesn’t,” he said. “Not in society. You needn’t be arrogant, Tam, but keep your dignity.”

“What dignity?” she asked.

He grinned. “Don’t try to tell me you have no dignity. Or pride. I know you better than that.” He lifted his hand partway off her back, then brought it back down, obviously recollecting the formality. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself, even here.”

She nodded. Best to let it go. “You dance well.”

“You’re better,” he said.

“It’s my cloven hooves,” she replied. He laughed and spun her into the outer circle, where the couples moved more rapidly, and by the time it had ended they were both breathing hard. Tam felt nervously at her hair, but it all seemed to be in place.

They danced the next two, more slowly, talking less, looking more. She saw Elyn, who gave her a most unladylike gesture of success, and Cina, well composed. Seana watched with a thoughtful face. Tam made herself meet the duchess’s eyes. There was no overt hostility in them.

After the dance ended Corin said, “You’ve done three rounds, you should sit down. I’ll bring you a drink.” They were beside a guarded entrance, and he made a sign with his hand, quick, unobtrusive.

Her feet were indeed beginning to hurt, so she sat and hoped to be left alone. But there was an empty chair next to her, and he had not been gone more than a few seconds before it was filled by Cina.