“It’s a lovely night for dancing, wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?” he asked, as he whirled her around the dance floor. He was still holding her rather more tightly than was proper and Rissa wished again she could have refused him when he asked for a dance.
Unfortunately, social protocol held that the Princess must dance with whomever asked her. From the lowliest Lord with only a single field and a few tenants to his name, to the richest Earl or Duke, she was expected to entertain them all. After she ascended to the throne, she could be more picky in her choice of partners. But for now, as she was still only the Princess, she must follow the social customs which dictated that all Lords and Ladies were equal—at least on the dance floor.
“Er, it is a nice night for dancing,” she agreed, having nothing else to say. At least they were no longer talking of her Heat Cycle. She was glad that the dance was coming to an end—it was awkward making small talk with a male she disliked so very much.
“Which is why I wish to engage you for the next three dances,” the Duke said smoothly, smiling that moist red smile at her, his mustaches twitching like wagging tails.
“The next three?” Rissa didn’t know what to say. It was rude of him to take up so much of her evening. But it would be considered even ruder for her to turn him down! She looked around, wondering if she could find some excuse to rid herself of him. He had his arm wrapped so tightly around her waist she could barely breathe and his breath smelled even more strongly of the aforementioned Port and wet cigarillos.
Suddenly, just as the dance was ending, James was at her side.
“Your pardon, Your Highness,” he said smoothly. “But you’re looking rather overheated. I believe it would be wise of you to sit out the next dance.”
“The Princess has already agreed to dance the next three dances with me,” Duke Grabbington snapped, glaring up at the big Kindred.
“Nevertheless, her welfare must come before your desire to dance with her,” James said firmly.
“Who are you to say she must not dance?” the Duke demanded. “You’re not even dressed properly for this ball! Where is your waistcoat, man? And why are you wearing boots instead of properly buckled shoes?” He turned one hose-clad calf, displaying his own shoes with their golden buckles and three-inch heels.
The big Kindred frowned down at him, but kept his voice calm and even.
“You must not have been present in the Reception Hall earlier. I am the Princess’s new bodyguard and Constant Companion. I am here to watch over her and keep her safe. And since she has already become overheated once tonight, I must insist that she sits out the next dance.”
If she’d had any other partner, Rissa might have gotten upset about her new guard’s high-handedness. But she was more than glad to have an excuse to leave the grabby Duke behind.
“I’m afraid I really must listen to my guard and Companion,” she said, giving Duke Grabbington a sweetly apologetic look. “Forgive me, but I must not become overheated.”
“Ah yes, your Heat Cycle again.” Duke Grabbington nodded, a short, sharp jerk of his head that made his wig bounce. “Very well, then. I shall return when you are refreshed, my Lady.”
He gave another sweeping bow and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Rissa to sag with relief against her new guard’s arm.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said, looking up at the big Kindred as he led her from the dance floor to some chairs at the side of the room. “That was…a most unpleasant dance.”
“I take it you didn’t like your partner?” he inquired blandly, raising an eyebrow. He handed her a cup of cool punch and she took a swallow gratefully before answering his question.
“No, I’m afraid not.” She shook her head decisively. “And then he wanted to engage me for the next three dances—imagine!” She shuddered dramatically.
“Is it usual to dance so many dances with the same partner?” James asked. “Forgive me, I am trying to understand the social customs of your people,” he added.
“Of course you are—you only just got here, didn’t you?” Rissa said. “But to answer your question, no—it’s considered quite impolite to ask a lady for more than one dance at a time unless you’re engaged to her.” She shivered. “Which I shall certainly never be to Duke Grabbington—though he may wish it.”
James frowned.
“What makes you say that? Did he make some sort of proposition to you as you danced?”
Rissa made a face.
“He alluded to the fact that my, er, Cycle is in full swing and that the Steward is looking for suitors for me.”
His frown deepened.
“And is he eligible to become one of your suitors?”