Miles in Love - Lois McMaster Bujold [128]
Venier paused for breath. Miles bent over, mouth still open, in a sort of silent scream. My lines! My lines! Those were all my lines, dammit! He'd expected Vorish rivals for Ekaterin's hand to come pouring out of the woodwork as soon as the widow touched down in Vorbarr Sultana, but my God, she hadn't even got off Komarr yet! He hadn't thought of Venier, or any other Komarran, as possible competition. He wasn't competition, the idea of Vennie as competition was laughable. Miles had more power, position, money, rank, all to lay at her feet when the time was finally ripe—Venier wasn't even taller than Ekaterin, he was a good four centimeters shorter—
The one thing Miles couldn't offer, though, was less Barrayar. In that, Venier had an advantage Miles could never match.
There followed a long, terrifying silence, during which Miles's brain screamed, Say no, say no! say NO!
"That's very kindly offered," Ekaterin said at last.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? And was Venier wondering the same thing?
"Kindness has nothing to do with it. I—" Venier cleared his throat again "—admire you very much."
"Oh, dear."
He added eagerly, "I've applied for the administrative position as head of terraforming here. I think I have a good chance. Because of the disruption in the department, HQ is surely going to be looking for some continuity. Or if the mud has splattered on the innocent as well as the guilty, I'll do whatever I have to do to get another shot, a chance to clear my professional reputation—I can make Serifosa Sector a showcase, I know I can. If you stay, I can get you voting shares. We could do it together; we could make this place a garden. Stay here and help build a world!"
Another long, terrifying silence. Then Ekaterin said, "I suppose you'd be assigned this apartment, if you succeeded to Tien's position."
"It goes with it," said Venier in an uncertain voice. Right, that wasn't a selling point, though Miles wasn't sure if Venier knew it. I can hardly bear being in this place, she'd said.
"You offer is kind and generous, Venier. But you have mistaken my situation, somewhat. No one is forcing me to return home. Komarr . . . I'm afraid these domes give me claustrophobia, anymore. Every time I pull on a breath mask, I'm going to think about the ugly way Tien died."
"Ah," said Venier. "I can understand that, but perhaps, in time . . . ?"
"Oh, yes. Time. Vor custom calls for a widow to mourn for one year." Miles could not guess what gesture, what facial expression, went with these words. A grimace? A smile?
"Do you hold to that archaic custom? Must you? Why? I never understood it. I thought in the Time of Isolation they tried to keep all women married all the time."
"Actually, I think it was practical. It gave time to be certain any pregnancy that might have been started could be completed while the woman was still under the control of her late husband's family, so they could be sure of claiming custody of any male issue. But still, whether I believe in formal mourning or not won't matter. As long as people think I do, I can use it to defend myself from—from unwanted suits. I so much need a quiet time and place to find my balance again."
There was a short silence. Then Venier said, more stiffly, "Defend? I did not mean my proposal as an attack, Kat."
"Of course I don't think that," she replied faintly.
Lie, lie. Of course she bloody well did. Ekaterin had experienced marriage as one long siege of her soul. After ten years of Tien, she probably felt about matrimony the way Miles felt about needle-grenade launchers. This was very bad for Venier. Good. But it was equally bad for Miles. Bad. Good. Bad. Good. Bad . . .
"Kat, I . . . I won't make a pest of myself. But think about it, think