A guinea, here?
“A gift for a kiss,” he said, “and what better for you, my love, than a ring.”
Light flared on a diamond. A large diamond. He took her left hand but she pulled back. Diamonds had become popular for betrothal rings because the stone was so resistant to damage and would endure. A beautiful thought, but until she won Ash’s love it would be as false as the mountains on the wall.
He raised his brows and she surrendered. What else could she do but let him slide the ring onto her finger? It was a little loose, but only a little, and candlelight sparked rainbows from the magnificent stone.
Everyone applauded. Genova smiled, but she could only think how lovely this would be if real.
“You must call the dance, Miss Smith,” Lady Arradale reminded her.
Looking at Ash, Genova said, “The ‘Merry Dancers.’” It was a simple one that she knew. If he’d suggested it, it would be appropriate. She could trust him that far. No, she could trust him much further than that. He had never promised more than he could fulfill and he had warned her not to get involved.
If this broke her heart, it would not be his fault.
The music started up, and Ash led her into place. She would at least have this, a dance with him. She knew she would count all these little things like pearls knotted one by one onto silk, and carry them with her if she lost this fight and lost him.
She was glad of the lively line dance that allowed little opportunity for conversation or thought. As always, it became impossible to be gloomy when in a dance.
She passed down the line and touched hands with all the ladies, including the older Miss Inchcliff, whose eyes were brilliant with excitement. The younger people were here, including small children in a line dance of their own, giggling as they bumped and hurtled up and down.
Genova turned with a girl—Miss Yardley?—who must almost be of age to be presented at court. She was flirting with all the men like a puppy testing its teeth on a thrown leather ball. Miss Yardley ignoreda couple of young lads who, though old enough for the adult dance, looked uncertain as to whether this was a treat or penance.
They were all in training for their purpose, Genova realized, even here at an impromptu celebration. Training to be courtiers, to amuse, to flirt, to promote their family’s interests, to progress in a career or marry well.
She was trained, too. Her parents had not neglected manners and etiquette, but her practical experience had been somewhat more varied. Did knowledge of how to eat from a communal dish of spicy lamb stew that included eyeballs count?
It might, she thought. She knew well the lesson that a guest must adapt to the host, whether it be at a house or in a country.
The first set ended, and punch and other drinks were carried in. Ash led Genova over for refreshment, and she thought he hadn’t escaped the magic of the dance.
“Exercise becomes you,” he said.
“You mean that I’m flushed and hearty?”
“I mean that you are beautiful. Like a rich, spicy dish.”
“Complete with sheep’s eyes?” The joke escaped, but of course he couldn’t see the connection.
“What?”
So she told him, describing a feast in Morocco and how the British had been trying to slip the eyeballs into their pockets.
“That must have created an interesting discovery for your maid.”
“Oh, I ate mine.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I had the distinct impression that our host knew the eyes would upset us and was enjoying the fuss.”
He laughed, his eyes admiring. Another pearl, but she was wincing inside. Why had she talked about sheep’s eyes? It might be interesting, even admirable, but it wasn’t a recommendation as a marchioness.
But then, as she danced with Captain Dalby, a naval officer, she knew nothing good could come of pretense. If she tricked Ash into marriage with an artificial Genova Smith, that would surely lead to disaster.
Captain Dalby turned out to know her father, which was delightful, and with some prompting she remembered a few encounters over the years. She came to see that he was an admirer, and could even be a suitor. Once she might have at least flirted, even though she didn’t want the navy life. Now she gently discouraged.
Lord Bryght claimed her next, then Dr. Egan. She never lacked a partner, and she danced with Ash twice more. More pearls on her string. Then, sooner than she could have imagined, clocks chimed twelve.
