“School,” she said.
“School. Yes, I had heard something about the schooling the Mederos family got. I hope they taught you to play by the rules.”
It was one of those times, Tesara thought, where she would have given anything for a proper send-down. Unfortunately, she knew from experience she would only think of one in the middle of the night a fortnight hence.
“I think it’s so quaint that some things about Port Saint Frey never change, don’t you?” she said. He gave her a mocking look and then when they were brought together again, she added, “You are still as much of a donkey’s behind as you were when we were children.”
Amos laughed out loud.
“Give up, Mederos. You’re as useless at wit as your family is at trade.” His mouth twisted and he leaned in close. “We all laughed when your uncle was dragged off and your family evicted.”
Rage blazed up in her. Even gloved, the power pulsed in her fingers. Tesara put up her hands and pushed the energy out her fingertips.
There was a pop and the smell of thunderstorms, and Amos stumbled backwards, taking half the dancers in their set with him. People cried out, and he fell to his seat, his face comically shocked.
The dance stopped and everyone turned to look.
“Goodness me,” Tesara said faintly, holding her gloved hands up to her mouth. “He just fell.”
“Amos, you’re drunk,” another boy said, laughing. Two of the young men went to pick him up and winced as static electricity shocked them both.
“I didn’t… I’m not…” he tried to protest, and he looked over at Tesara with narrowed eyes, with no little fear in them.
By that time, she was standing with Elenor and the other girls, pretending to giggle. “I thought he was drunk,” she whisper-shouted. “But I didn’t want to say anything. And then he just fell – how embarrassing. Boys always think they can hold their liquor when they can’t.”
The small orchestra started up again, and the dancers reformed. Amos was dragged away by his friends, and another young man, a friend of Jax, stepped up heroically to offer to dance with her. He danced well, and he was shy, and it was a relief to just dance and let her heart settle down. Her fingers settled as well, though the boy, named Dantes, winced at the residual shock when he first took her hand.
The ballroom filled with couples and sets as the older guests joined in. Now that Amos no longer had her attention, she turned to catch sight of her would-be fiancé. She could have laughed at the thought of Uncle Samwell setting up an alliance with the Colonel. He was older than her father, and he was so thick and stiff that his bow was like that of a marionette, a straight, infinitesimal dip of his upper body in a straight line. What would he want with her, when he had such a magnificent creature on his arm? She wasn’t a fool; of course she knew that he would not throw over his mistress for a wife, but it made little sense for him to ally himself with the disgraced Mederos family. And certainly, she would not be interested in such an alliance.
She wondered if he knew she was present. He never approached her, and she tried to keep turned away from him if ever she were in danger of catching his eye, thought it was clear there was little danger of that – the Colonel was here to be seen, not to see. That was fine with Tesara too. She didn’t want him to see her.
She applied herself to the dance and listened to the buzz of conversation that rose around her as she danced down the line. There was much speculation as to whether the Idercis had invited just the Colonel and not his lovely companion, and whether Mrs Iderci had found herself outfoxed.
“This is what happens when you let just anyone in,” a girl across the set said with a laugh.
Tesara completed her graceful turn and just smiled.
Chapter Fifty-Three
The song ended and they all clapped, and then the set broke up into couples. Dantes gave her his arm and they walked to the refreshments. The gossip continued around them, everyone either scandalized or thinking it a good joke.
“What do you think of the infamous pair?” Elenor asked the group at large, her eyes bright. She sipped her punch.
“Infamous indeed,” Jax said. “I find such brazenness disgusting.”
Tesara stiffened. He’s so sure of himself, she thought. She twirled her punch cup in her fingers. “I think they like the attention and care not a whit for the censure,” she said daringly. “Which makes them a little admirable.” After all, one should respect one’s fiancé.
There was a startled response from the group.
“Admirable!” said the girl who had remarked on letting just anyone in. “I can hardly think it admirable.”
Elenor tried to shush her but Tesara felt emboldened. Perhaps it was the gossip aimed at someone else for once, or perhaps it was the punch, but she said, “Sometimes, who a person is has nothing to do with who society says they are. And there isn’t a thing you can do about it except not care a fig.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“But one must care,” the girl said, her brow wrinkled. “If no one cared, they could do whatever they wanted, no matter what anyone else thought. But then, they wouldn’t act right.”
“Perhaps what Miss Mederos means is that acting in accordance to society’s strictures and acting right are two different things,” said Jax. Tesara eyed him warily. She had not expected support from such a quarter. She was just about to thank him when he added, “But as comforting as such a sentiment is, it is in essence misguided. If no one cared, we all would do whatever we wanted. Without censure, society falls apart. Things break up. Then chaos rushes in and people lose their place. Then where would
