The High Ground by Melinda Snodgrass

Author:Melinda Snodgrass
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

17

AFFAIRS OF HONOR

The pressure of Clark Kunst’s hand in the small of her back wasn’t as steady and comforting as Boho’s had been. Maybe because Mercedes was eye to eye with the marqués and that made them awkward? Clark was a wonderful dancer and his grace as he swung into an elaborate allemande was unmatched, but Boho’s height and strength had made her feel as light as dandelion fluff. Clark’s fingers trailed the length of her arm, and caught her hand at just the right moment to pull her back into the circle of his arm, but she realized his focus wasn’t on her. He danced to show off his own abilities. She was just a prop.

Since Clark was clearly so inattentive Mercedes decided she could respond in kind. She allowed her eyes to leave his face and scan the ballroom. Tracy was nowhere to be seen, but she couldn’t imagine he would have been stupid and stiff-necked enough to avoid the event.

Yves Petek was seated on one of the chairs and watching Lord Estevan de Vaca and his husband Caballero Sasha Olsen. Sasha wore the shoulder ribbon and sash that indicated he was taking the lady’s part. They looked happy. Yves looked miserable.

Boho was dancing with Cipriana and they were laughing. Mercedes felt a flare of annoyance.

Mihalis was dancing with Estella again. I wonder when Daddy’s going to put a stop to that?

She looked to her father. He was smiling that indulgent rather vague smile that she knew meant acute boredom. The man doing the talking was gesturing frantically and smiling far too broadly. I wonder what he wants? Someday she would be the one forced to listen to importuning conversations at what should be a social event. What techniques would she develop to stave off rudeness or outright violence?

The music ended. The dancers dutifully applauded the orchestra, and began to drift away like unmoored ships in search of their next berth. Mercedes looked at her dance card. It was a set dance and her partner was Yves. He appeared at her side.

“Yves, I really need to go to the powder room. If you wouldn’t mind…” Mercedes allowed her voice to trail away.

The hangdog look immediately left the young man’s face. Mercedes couldn’t help it. She giggled. “Well, you don’t have to look quite so happy about it.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“Why don’t you ask Devon to dance?” she suggested, looking toward the young man who had been Yves’ particular friend all through childhood.

Yves shook his head. “My father would have a stroke. They,” he jerked his head toward the gay couple, “are third and fifth sons. They donate their sperm, pay the annual fine and are left the hell alone. Me…” He sighed. “I know my duty. Once I wash out I’m going to marry Selestina.”

“Being the heir sort of sucks, doesn’t it?” Mercedes said quietly.

“Yeah.”

They went in opposite directions. Mercedes considered Yves as a potential consort. He was well born from a family that seemed to be allergic to politics.

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