Miles Errant - Lois McMaster Bujold [294]
"Miles always seems to have a lot of friends."
"I'm not Miles," Mark snapped, stung on the raw spot. No, it wasn't her fault, he was raw all over.
"I can see that . . ." She paused, as the music began again in the adjoining ballroom. "Would you like to dance?"
"I don't know any of your dances."
"That's a mirror dance. Anybody can do the mirror dance, it's not hard. You just copy everything your partner does."
He glanced through the archway, and thought of the tall doors to the promenade. "Maybe—maybe outside?"
"Why outside? You wouldn't be able to see me."
"Nobody would be able to see me, either." A suspicious thought struck him. "Did my mother ask you to do this?"
"No . . ."
"Lady Vorpatril?"
"No!" She laughed. "Why ever should they? Come on, or the music will be over!" She took him by the hand and towed him determinedly through the archway, dribbling a few more flowers in her wake. He caught a couple of buds against his tunic with his free hand, and slipped them surreptitiously into his trouser pocket. Help, I'm being kidnapped by an enthusiast . . . ! There were worse fates. A wry half-smile twitched his lips. "You don't mind dancing with a toad?"
"What?"
"Something Ivan said."
"Oh, Ivan." She shrugged a dismissive white shoulder. "Ignore Ivan, we all do."
Lady Cassia, you are avenged. Mark brightened still further, to medium-gloomy.
The mirror dance was going on as described, with partners facing each other, dipping and swaying and moving along in time to the music. The tempo was brisker and less stately than the large group dances, and had brought more younger couples out onto the floor.
Feeling hideously conspicuous, Mark plunged in with Kareen and began copying her motions, about half a beat behind. Just as she had promised, it took about fifteen seconds to get the hang of it. He began to smile, a little. The older couples were quite grave and elegant, but some of the younger ones were more creative. One young Vor took advantage of a hand-pass to bait his lady by briefly sticking one finger up his nose and wriggling the rest at her; she broke the rule and didn't follow, but he mirrored her look of outrage perfectly. Mark laughed.
"You look quite different when you laugh," Kareen said, sounding startled. She cocked her head in bemusement.
He cocked his head back at her. "Different from what?"
"I don't know. Not so . . . funereal. You looked as if you'd lost your best friend, when you were hiding back there in the corner."
If only you knew. She pirouetted; he pirouetted. He swept her an exaggerated bow; looking surprised but pleased, she swept one back at him. The view was charming.
"I'll just have to make you laugh again," she decided firmly. So, perfectly deadpan, she proceeded to tell him three dirty jokes in rapid succession; he ended up laughing at the absurdity of their juxtaposition with her maidenly airs as much as anything else.
"Where did you learn those?"
"From my big sisters, of course." She shrugged.
He was actually sorry when the music came to an end. This time he took the lead and urged her back into the next room for something to drink, and then out onto the promenade. After the concentration of the dance was over he'd become uncomfortably conscious of just how many people were looking at him, and it wasn't paranoid dementia this time. They'd made a conspicuous couple, the beautiful Kareen and her Vorkosigan toad.
It was not as dark outside as he'd hoped. In addition to the lights spilling from the Residence windows, colored spotlights in the landscaping were diffused by the fog to a gentle general illumination. Below the stone balustrade the slope was almost woods-like with old-growth bushes and trees. Stone-paved walkways zig-zagged down, with granite benches inviting lingerers. Still, the night was chilly enough to keep most people inside, which helped.
It was a highly romantic setting, to be wasted on him. Why am I doing this? What good was it to bait a hunger that could