Miles in Love - Lois McMaster Bujold [334]
"It was not exactly a social call," Miles said. Trapped, he gave up and sat down. "And I could hardly have delayed her departure till you and Father returned at midnight."
"Reasonable enough," his mother said, completing her capture by plunking down on the matching sofa across from him. Gingerly, Mark seated himself next to her. "But when are we to be permitted to meet her?"
He eyed her warily. "Not . . . just now. If you don't mind. Things are in a rather delicate, um, situation between us just at the moment."
"Delicate," echoed the Countess. "Isn't that a distinct improvement over a life in ruins with vomiting?"
A brief hopeful look glimmered in his eye, but he shook his head. "Just now, it's pretty hard to say."
"I quite understand. But only because Simon and Alys explained it to us last night. Might I ask why we had to hear about this nasty slander from them, and not from you?"
"Oh. Sorry." He sketched her an apologetic bow. "I only first heard about it day before yesterday myself. We've been running on separate tracks the past few days, what with your social whirl."
"You've been sitting on this for two days? I should have wondered at your sudden fascination with Chaos Colony during our last two meals together."
"Well, I was interested in hearing about your life on Sergyar. But more critically, I was waiting on the ImpSec analysis."
The Countess glanced toward the door Commodore Galeni had lately exited. "Ah," she said, in a tone of enlightenment. "Hence Duv."
"Hence Duv." Miles nodded. "If there had been a security leak involved, well, it would have been a whole different matter."
"And there was not?"
"Apparently not. It seems to be an entirely politically motivated fiction, made up out of altogether circumstantial . . . circumstances. By a small group of Conservative Counts and their hangers-on whom I have lately offended. And vice versa. I've decided to deal with it . . . politically." His face set in a grim look. "In my own way. In fact, Dono Vorrutyer and René Vorbretten will be here shortly to consult."
"Ah. Allies. Good." Her eyes narrowed in satisfaction.
He shrugged. "That's what politics is about, in part. Or so I take it."
"That's your department now. I leave you to it, and it to you. But what about you and your Ekaterin? Are you two going to be able to weather this?"
His expression grew distant. "We three. Don't leave out Nikki. I don't know yet."
"I've been thinking," said the Countess, watching him closely, "that I should invite Ekaterin and Kareen to tea. Just us ladies."
A look of alarm, if not outright panic, crossed Miles's face. "I . . . I . . . not yet. Just . . . not yet."
"No?" said the Countess, in a tone of disappointment. "When, then?"
"Her parents wouldn't let Kareen come, would they?" Mark put in. "I mean . . . I thought they'd cut the connection." A thirty-year friendship, destroyed by him. Good work, Mark. What shall we do for an encore? Accidentally burn down Vorkosigan House? At least that would get rid of the butter bug infestation . . . .
"Kou and Drou?" said the Countess. "Well, of course they've been avoiding me! I'm sure they don't dare look me in the eye, after that performance the night we came back."
Mark wasn't sure what to make of that, though Miles snorted wryly.
"I miss her," said Mark, his hand clenching helplessly along his trouser seam. "I need her. We're supposed to start presenting bug butter products to potential major accounts in a few days. I was counting on having Kareen along. I . . . I can't do sales very well. I've tried. The people I pitch to all seem to end up huddled on the far end of the room with lots of furniture between us. And Martya is too . . . forthright. But Kareen is brilliant. She could sell anything to anyone. Especially Barrayaran men. They sort of lie down and roll over, waving their paws in the air and wagging their tails—it's just amazing. And, and . . . I can stay calm, when she's with me, no matter how much other people irritate me. Oh, I want her back . . ." These last words escaped him in a muffled