Midwinter Ball

Another finally finished piece from the Madam Mezmerelds's Digest Series.  This one is fully titled: "The Governor's Midwinter Ball".  Here is the story:

The ball was more opulent than Naureen had expected, considering the rumors of how poor the cotton harvest had been this year.  She wondered where the Governor had bled the colony to pay for this absurdity, as he certainly would not have funded it out of his own pocket.  She supposed the fact that it was also a masquerade was intended to add an element of mystery and excitement to the affair, but if that was the intent, then it was utterly wasted on the young debutante.

Half a hundred couples danced and whirled on the marble dance floor in the Grand Ballroom, and Naureen could name all of them with half a glance.  What foolishness it was to pretend that someone could not identify the whole of the would-be aristocracy of San Belle just because they couldn’t make out their cheekbones.  There was Master Cilus, pretending no one knew he was dancing with Madame Temaire while his wife fumed silently at her table.  Sir Trant had disappeared a half hour ago with Jewellen and not returned.  Doubtless their “secret” affair would be the primary subject of the mindless gossip tomorrow.

“May I have this dance?”

An unfamiliar baritone interrupted her boredom, and it took her a moment to realize the fellow extending his gloved hand to her had been talking to her.  He was broad across the chest, but his coat fit him perfectly.  Naureen found her voice a moment after he had helped her to her feet and onto the dance floor.

“I didn’t say ‘yes’,” she complained, her voice too breathless to hold any real irritation.

“She that is silent is taken to agree…” he replied with a smile, and took her waist with a firm grip.

Naureen’s retort was swallowed by a modest shriek as he pulled her into the dance.  He was strong, and his balance and footwork were flawless.  It was all Naureen could do to keep pace through the intricate twists and turns of his lead.  All too soon, the quartet was stilled, and Naureen returned to her seat.  Her partner bowed slightly, before turning to depart.

“A moment!” She managed, “might I have a name?”
“Hardly in the spirit of the event, my lady,” he replied over his shoulder, and walked briskly toward the veranda.

Naureen exhaled sharply, then gathered herself up and followed.

---Story by Bobbie & Steve Wilcox, Written by Steve Wilcox From the coloring book, "Madam Mezmerelda's Digest of the Mystic, the Mad, & the Macabre"  www.etsy.com/listing/463630217…