The first notes of the dance drifted across the ballroom.
Couples began making their way toward the polished floor, while other guests drew back to the edges to watch. The chandeliers glittered in the floor’s reflection, and the strings rose over the conversations around the dancing area.
Clara heard it before anyone else did. Her whole face brightened, and she turned toward the musicians without seeming to realize she had done it.
Owen noticed.
"Would you like to dance, Lady Clara?" he asked.
"Yes," Clara said at once. Then she caught herself and gave him a look. "Though I was starting to wonder whether you’d remember we came to a ball."
"She’s been waiting for someone to ask her since we walked in," Elise said.
"There’s nothing wrong with being excited about dancing."
"I didn’t say there was."
Owen laughed and turned to Elise. "Will you be all right?"
"Perfectly," Elise said. "I’m happy to watch this one. Go and enjoy yourselves."
Julian stayed where he was beside her, content to watch the floor fill rather than join it.
Owen offered Clara his hand, and she took it. He led her out onto the floor, and they found a place among the other couples just as the musicians settled into the opening rhythm.
Owen had been taught to dance for as long as he had been taught to hold a sword, and he knew the steps without having to think about them. Clara was every bit as comfortable. Within a few measures, they had found their rhythm, her hand light in his and the blue of her gown sweeping wide as they turned.
"You’ve turned out to be a very popular guest, my lord," Clara said as they passed another couple.
"Have I?"
"Lady Marianne nearly had you married off before you’d been here half an hour."
"As I recall," Owen said, "you enjoyed that a great deal."
"I did," Clara admitted, without a trace of shame. She tilted her head. "So? Have you reconsidered any of them?"
"I came here to enjoy a ball," Owen said. "Not to choose a wife."
"That’s exactly what someone would say if he’d already chosen."
"It’s also exactly what someone would say if he hadn’t."
Clara laughed, and the next turn carried them past a pair who were dancing with the grim concentration of people sitting an examination.
"Look at them," Clara murmured. "You’d think someone was grading them."
"Maybe someone is."
"Then they’re failing."
She was easy company. She pointed out a girl she remembered from two years ago, now dancing with a baron’s son she had apparently sworn she would never speak to again. She commented on a young man who kept glancing at his own feet. Owen found himself enjoying it. For a few minutes, he didn’t have to introduce himself to anyone.
On one of the wider turns, a dull ache pulled along his ribs.
He adjusted the movement slightly and went on as though nothing had happened.
Clara noticed anyway. "Are you all right?"
"I’m fine. The journey left me a little sore, that’s all."
"Then we’ll take the rest more gently," Clara said. "I don’t want to be the reason you can’t walk tomorrow."
"I can manage."
"I know you can. Take it gently anyway."
Owen smiled and did as he was told. They finished the dance with smaller turns, and he was grateful for them more than he let show.
When the music ended, he bowed. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Clara."
"Thank you, my lord." She was a little flushed and very pleased with herself. "That was exactly what I wanted."
They made their way back off the floor together. Elise was waiting.
"You look far too satisfied with yourself," she said to her sister.
"You should try dancing before you judge everyone else."
"I’m judging you specifically."
They were still at it when Owen saw Katarina coming toward them, with Julian a step behind her.
She had come back, as she had said she would.
Katarina took one look at the three of them and turned straight to her brother. "Lord Owen has already danced, and you’re still standing exactly where I left you."
"I moved," Julian said. "Twice."
"Are you planning to spend the whole night watching everyone else enjoy themselves?"
"Watching is perfectly enjoyable."
"It isn’t."
"It is for me."
"You don’t get to decide that."
"I’m fairly certain I do."
Owen laughed out loud. They argued the way people did when they had been doing it since before they could walk, without either of them minding in the slightest.
Katarina turned to him. "Has he been behaving himself while I was gone?"
"He’s been perfectly pleasant company," Owen said. "I’ve enjoyed talking to him."
Katarina looked delighted. "You hear that? You’ve made a friend all on your own. I’m very proud."
"You were the one who insisted I come," Julian said.
"Yes," Katarina said. "And I was clearly right."
Julian didn’t argue with that one.
On the stage, the musicians had begun turning their pages for the next piece. Katarina heard it and held out her hand to her brother.
"Come on."
"I was perfectly comfortable here."
Katarina simply kept her hand where it was and waited.
Julian looked at it for a moment. Then he sighed, took it, and gave Owen a look that said he had known from the start how this was going to end.
"I expect to talk to you again before the night is over, Lord Owen," Katarina said over her shoulder.
"Enjoy the dance, Your Highnesses," Owen said.
Julian glanced back once as his sister led him onto the floor, faintly amused.
With the twins gone, Owen went with Clara and Elise toward the refreshment tables.
It was busy there, but less crowded than the floor. Attendants moved between the guests with trays, glasses chimed against one another, and conversations rose and fell under the music. Clara took a cold drink from a passing tray and drank half of it at once.
"Dancing is far more tiring than I remembered," she said.
"You were the one who couldn’t wait to start," Elise said.
"Enjoying it and wanting to do it all night aren’t the same thing."
"A rest sounds good to me," Owen said.
They settled beside one of the tables, where they could watch the next dance without standing in anyone’s way. Out on the floor, Owen caught a glimpse of Katarina laughing at something her brother had said, and Julian looking very much as though he had said it on purpose. Across the hall, Adelaide was still moving from group to group.
Owen was reaching for a glass of his own when he noticed Lucien de Clare making his way toward them through the guests.
He wasn’t looking at Owen.
He was looking at Clara.
Lucien stopped in front of her and bowed, perfectly correctly. "Lady Ashcombe. Lucien de Clare. Would you do me the honor of the next dance?"
Clara blinked, clearly not expecting it. Then she recovered.
"Thank you for asking, Lord Lucien," she said. "But I’ve only just come off the floor. I’d like to rest for a while."
She said it pleasantly, with a small smile. There was nothing in it that anyone could have taken as an insult.
Lucien didn’t move.
His eyes flicked toward Owen, then back to her. "You seemed perfectly willing to dance with a Ferrers."
"Lord Owen asked me for the last dance, and I accepted," Clara said. "I’d simply like to sit this one out."
"And if he asked you again now? Would you refuse him too?"
Clara’s smile faltered.
"I’ve already given you my answer, my lord," she said. "I don’t think I need another reason to decline."
Owen watched without saying anything. He had no intention of stepping in. Clara was entirely capable of answering a dance invitation herself, and there had been nothing wrong with Lucien asking.
But she had answered, and Lucien was still standing there.
"I wonder," Lucien said, "whether you understand who is asking you. An invitation from a son of House de Clare isn’t usually something a viscount’s daughter turns down so lightly."
Clara’s expression changed.
"I meant no disrespect," she said. Her voice stayed polite, but it had gone very steady. "I simply don’t wish to dance at the moment."
"Of course." Lucien’s tone said the opposite. "House Ashcombe has grown very particular about whose attention it accepts. Especially from families outside Ferrers territory."
Two nobles standing nearby had heard it. One of them glanced at Owen at once. The other suddenly found his drink very interesting. A little way off, a conversation trailed into silence.
Elise stepped up beside her sister.
"My sister has already declined, Lord Lucien," she said calmly. "We’d be grateful if you would let us enjoy the rest of the evening."
She said it respectfully. But there was no mistaking what she meant.
Lucien turned to look at her. "Both of the Ashcombe sisters seem very sure of themselves tonight."
"This has nothing to do with Ferrers or de Clare," Clara said. Her voice was firmer now. "I didn’t want to dance. That’s all it ever was."
She had tried to end it politely. Owen could see on her face how little Lucien had left her room to do that.
He decided it had gone far enough.