Victoria, dressed in her finest dress, the one for special occasions, with an assortment of shades of pink and red in the bodice flowers, and skirts, the slits in the pink sleeves show a deep scarlet red. Her hair was nearly arranged half up, half down. Her maid had spent a good deal of her preparation time arranging the hair to look like a rose on the top of Victoria's head. Although, no matter how she looked she still did not feel that she belonged at a ball.


She knew that the occasion was one that she was delighted about. Her aunt was getting married! This was suppose to be exciting. However, Victoria had let her nerves get the best of her. This was her first time coming to an event such as this. She had not met most of the people who would be there. To say the least she was worried of making a bad impression.


She stood to the side, watching couples dancing. Her eyes wandered the flashing swirls of colorful skirts, and the joyfilled faces of the dancers. She longed to be comfortable enough to join in the festivities. She feared to embarass herself, and her aunt. With a sigh, she let herself be comsumed by nervousness, and remain a wall flower.

Ewan was lurking against a wall, watching the dancers--his sister included. It wasn't that he couldn't dance. It wasn't that he wouldn't dance. It wasn't that he hadn't danced before. And she'd tease him mercilessly about it.

He wasn't afraid of women! The idea was ridiculous.

He reflected upon it and decided that no: he wasn't afraid of women. However--he was afraid of himself around women. And terrified at the idea of marrying one. His brother's wife was absolutely insufferable. And they would persist in never getting his jokes, or being offended by them. Once he had been slapped for what he felt was no reason. He'd only said she rode well. Was it his fault his eyes had been pointing in an unfortunate direction? A man couldn't always control every part of himself.

Absorbed in thought, Ewan scowled down at the floor, his usual cheerfulness ebbing away like sand in an hourglass. At last he sighed and looked up. Face one's fear, that's what he ought to do or no good coming to the ball at all. He grabbed a glass of wine off the tray of a passing servant and took a gulp of it--his first drink of the evening--for fortification, then approached the first woman he saw.

"Milady, would you care to dance?"

Victoria was looking at all the people on the dance floor, she had not seen a man come up to her. She was startled as she looked from the floor, to the voice talking to her. "Me?" She asked with the nervousness in her voice. She had not thought that she was actually going to be asked to dance, by any one. She feared that he was only pitying her. She shook thoughts like that from her mind, giving him the benefit of the doubt. She then gathered up her courage, trying to surpress her fears.


"Lord, I would be honored." She extended her hand, after courtseying, for him to take. She held her breath, fearing he would take back his offer. She looked him over briefly. He looked pleasing enough, so she did not think it was some one who had to prey on wall flowers, just to get a dance. Why he was asking her, she did not know. Nor, did she want to. She only wanted to try to enjoy the evening.

"Oh, good," he said, taken a bit aback at her sudden gushing. He bowed again, then let go of her hand to introduce himself. "I'm Lord Ewan Kinnear, and you are?" She was pretty. They were all pretty; that was the problem. What might have helped was finding an ugly woman. They were at the very least easier to talk to. He conversed well enough with his mother's maid, for example.

After their introductions, he led her out to the dance floor. The dance was a fast one, so there was little or no need for talk. However--it also required he lift her at certain points, his hands on her waist. He did so quickly and efficiently, not lingering over it like some of the lords. It was really a ridiculous affair, this ball. Pemberton was so needlessly overdecorated. Steeped in sin, in fact. The dance slowed, and he had a break to catch his breath and settle his hands back in the waltz position. Perhaps he should say something. No, he would say nothing.

"I am Lady Victoria Carstairs. And it is a pleasure to meet you Lord Ewan." She said, gaining more confidence with every little moment. She followed him through every step of the quick paced dance. She was well taught in an assortment of dances, that is why, even when other girls would have, she did not even hint at a blush when his hands were on her waist. It was expected, so she did not fear it.


Once they were settled to a waltz, Victoria noticed her nerves were back. She tried not to let him see that, and she knew of only one way to do that. She would have to make light conversation, or the nervous tention would only get worse. Taking a slow breath, she smiled at him. "I am so glad for Aunt Esabell, she has so many people here, all come to celebrate her engagement. She is truly blessed." She smiled at the thought of her aunt. Esabell had only shown kindness since Victoria had come to live here. Victoria, too, was blessed.


Now, she knew that it might be good to know a little more about her current dance partner. "Where are you from, Lord Ewan? I have not seen you in Pemberton before." It was a simple question, so she hoped that he would feel he could answer. She did not want to scare off the poor man.

She seemed kind, and not overtalkative, which he appreciated. Though she did begin to prattle a bit--a trait he hated--she'd reined it in... Ewan sighed, averting his eyes from her momentarily, keeping his hands on her with only the lightest touch.

"I'm from Marcheford, actually," he said, nodding at her as they moved carefully around the floor. "I've never been to Pemberton before." He'd heard it was a den of vice. And looking around the opulent room, he couldn't say he wasn't getting that impression now. So she was the Duchess's relation? And dancing with the likes of him. Well, at least it might make the other courtiers think better of the Kinnear family.

And his sister, unless he was mistaken, was dancing with the Duke Alden. Atogether too pretty a man. His hands tightened unconsciously on his dance partner in anger as he saw his sister smile at something the Duke had said.

He did not seem too talkative. Victoria did not know whether to feel relieved, or worried about this. She did not know if it was her, or something else on his mind making him feel this way. She studied him carefully. "I have never been to Marcheford. I hear it is a nice enough place, though." She tried to keep the conversation going, but she was afraid she was losing him.


She was caught off guard by the tightening of his hands. Had it just gone from his light grip to a normal grip she would have not minded, but it went further. "Lord Ewan, is some thing wrong? Could you ease your grip a bit?" She followed his eyes to another couple. She wondered if this was a girl he courted. If so, why was he not the one over there dancing with her, making her smile. Victoria knew it was not her place to ask, because she knew no details, so she just looked back at Lord Ewan. Her eyes were uncertain, not knowing any thing about this man.

Ewan blew out his breath in a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said, unclenching his hands. "My sister..." He trailed off. "I have to keep a watch on her, and I worry about how men can be..." He scowled to himself. "Sorry, milady, it's no fault of yours, but she's too young to think of marriage, though my brother keeps forcing men on her." He shook his head, continuing the dance and trying not to look over at Aoife again so blatantly. The lady he was dancing with seemed nice enough.

"You understand, right?" he added, looking down at her. "Do you have any brothers or sisters, Lady Victoria?" It was a safe question, one that had no overtones of flirtation. He felt he could catch his breath and forget about her feminine charms, even as they intoxicated his senses.

She gave him a kind smile, when he apologized. The sudden realization that her thoughts were wrong, some how seemed to put Victoria's mind at ease. She was his sister, so the sudden watchful look was not because of any thing but sibling love. She did not know why that would please her, but it did. She wished that she could have a relationship like that of siblings, but she knew that would never happen, especially now.


"My Lord, I understand that you are a man who cares enough about his sister, to watch over her, caringly." She watched him, until she heard his question about her. She had always wanted brothers, or sisters, but there was never any chance that it could have happened. Her mother died the day she was born, and her father chose to put marrying again out of his mind. "Unfortunately, Lord Ewan, no I do not. I am an only child." She responded, her confidence slowly slipping away from her. Thinking about the sorrow in her life did that to her. She tried to think of some thing else. "And you, have you siblings other than your young sister, and your pushy brother?" She hoped she had not crossed the line with the discription he himself had given his brother.

Ewan laughed at her description of his brother.

"Do you know Kian, then?" He felt himself relaxing into his usual banter. "He has a stick so far up his--" He stopped, recalling belatedly that he was talking to a lady, and blushed beneath the olive tone of his swarthy skin. "Er, that is, my brother is difficult but I love him dearly, and trounce him whenever we fence! He can beat me wrestling, but it's only because he got the unnatural height in the family." Ewan and his sister were both on the shorter side of average, whereas Kian stood a good three inches taller than his brother.

He continued to waltz, letting himself hold her waist more gently. He could enjoy the feeling of a woman in his arms, couldn't he? It wasn't the sin of lust, was it... well it was, but...

"And no, I have no other siblings. My parents tried, I believe, after Aoife was born, but with no success." He recalled his mother's sadness when he was younger. After a number of stillbirths, Aoife was named 'life'. And it was an apt name, too.

She shook her head. "No, I have never met your brother. From the sounds of it, I am glad I met the younger brother first. You are younger, aren't you?" She had spoken, just assuming she was, and had realized it too late. So she waited the confirmation. Her mind froze as he started to speak, forgetting his manners. She smiled when he remembered them, as continued to listen. "Ah, fencing. A delicate, yet fierce sport. If only they would let girls play..." She trailed off, now she was the one forgetting her manners. She should not talk like that to a man, much less a stranger. She quickly went to a change of subject.


"So, tell me, Lord Ewan, is the Ball all the brings you so far from Marcheford? Or is there more to your visit?" She thought it a save enough topic, one that neither of them should get caught loosing their manners in. She relaxed a bit, as his hands were now held more gently. Her green eyes were able to focus on him, and not his hands or her feet, as she listened for an answer.

Ewan smiled. "That's what my sister always says--so I taught her, when she was younger. There's nothing wrong with women fencing, I think," he added, brow wrinkling as he reasoned it out. "That is, I don't believe the fair sex ought to be subject to true battle, but as a method of self-defense or simple pleasure, why not?--much as men learn to dance for pleasure." He nodded to her, trying to reassure her.

"If you had an older brother he might have taught you too," he added. "And yes--Kian is my older brother, not often at court after his marriage. We were closer in my youth, but he's become--stodgy. And to answer your last question--" He was babbling now, out of nervousness or simple desire to have something to say. "--that's why I've come to Pemberton. He insists I attend more balls and other such functions instead of staying on the practice grounds or in the library. But you know--I think you wouldn't be bad at fencing. You're a good dancer."

Victoria smiled, she was surprised that he thought that it was okay for women to learn fencing. He had even taught his sister. That was something. His reasoning behind why he thought it was good for women to learn was good enough for her. "I most heartedly agree. If men can dance, why not women fence?" She summed up what he had said with a playful tone.


She was glad that he seemed to be able to talk now, and not so silent. "Had I an older brother, I would have much wished that he shared the same care for me, as you do yours." She gave him a wink, but then blushed. He complimented her dancing, and now her face matched the color of her dress. "Thank you. Your not so bad yourself." She tried to get the playful, easy going tone back. She did not know if it was that she was nervous that kept her being playful one moment, shy the next, or if that is really how she was going to be around men.

"Thanks." Ewan fell silent and continued the steps of the dance. He was by this point eager for it to be over. It was becoming most painful, and he and the Lady Victoria seemed to be caught in a competition as to who could blush more. The additional embarrassment of being out-blushed by a lady only made it worse.

The dance came to an end, and he pulled away from her and dropped into a bow.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he lied, forbearing to kiss her hand again, as a more flirtatious man might have done. He hoped he wouldn't hurt her feelings or make her own awkwardness worse with this strange and stilted conversation. "Maybe I'll see you later."

And with that, he turned tail and fled most ignominiously.

The awkward silence that fell over them both was almost unbareable. Nothing could make her more embarrassed at this moment. Never in her life had she wished for a dance to end, but this one seemed to drag on and on.


When he let go, and bowed, she gave him a low curtsey. "The pleasure was all mine, Lord Ewan. " She was more or less glad that he did not kiss her hand, again, for she knew that she would have turned even more red. "It would be a delightful to meet you again, perhaps under less formal circumstances." When the exchange was over, she turned the opposite direction, and let him be.