The prince's ball soon reached the next stage. Musical instruments were brought out and played with great skill by the nearly invisible band in the corner of the room. As tradition dictated, the younger members of the aristocracy would take to the floor first, followed by their seniors. 

Gangly teenagers milled in the center of the room. A chubby young man of about fifteen or seventeen tried to catch her eye from the other side of the crowd and began making his way towards her. Arianna pretended that she hadn't noticed him and turned instead to the nearest boy, which just so happened to be the Victor Grant from before. 

Arianna held his gaze for a moment, before he mutely extended his hand towards her. She accepted it. From the corner of her vision, she watched the chubby young man deflate, turn, and begin pestering another girl. 

"Hello, Victor Grant," she said. 

"Lady Ashbridge." He inclined his head as they broke away from the throng and began, slowly, to dance. "I see Viscount Winthrope was not to your liking."

Arianna's cheeks warmed at being so easily seen through, but she sniffed disdainfully to mask her embarassment, retracing steps learned through countless hours of rote memorization. "He is a well-known lech."

"Surely he would not dare lay his hands on the only daughter of Marquess Ashbridge."

Their proximity allowed Arianna to examine the boy more closely. He was young, perhaps a year or two youger than her fourteen years of age, with all the chereubic featuers such youth afforded him; but she could see that he would grow into a towering man, as he already stood half a head taller than herself.

"It is better to be safe rather than sorry," she replied. "Let us speak no more regarding this topic. This is a ball meant for celebrating the prince's auspicious return to health, not a place for idle gossip."

"Of course," Victor said, remaining silent as the music swelled to its crescendo. He led her through the dance with the air of someone who had done this many times before.

Rather than seperating once the dance was finished, she requested him for the next dance as well. He agreed, and they waited for the music to begin once more. Around them, most of their peers had found a partner.

"I am impressed at your adeptness," Arianna said. "Who taught you?"

"My mother," he said.

"Not an instructor?" she asked.

"No," Victor said, "my parents would not spare the funds for such a thing when my mother's tutoring was perfectly adequate."

"As I can atteset," she said, feeling slightly guilty for making him speak of his family's lower station; although if he was offended, he did a truly stellar job of hiding it. "Your mother must be an excellent dancer, then."

"As well as an excellent pianist and violinst, yes."

"Better than the ones currently playing?" 

He cocked his head to the side and listened to the music. "A fair bit better," he said, after a few seconds."

"And did the son inherit the mother's talents?"

"Aside from dancing? Unfortunately not. My interestes have always been more martial."

"Ah, a typical boy," Arianna said, though inwardly she was quite jealous. 

"I feel I resemble that remark. And yourself, Lady Ashbridge?" 

"Reading poetry and horse riding." The first one was a lie, but the second one was true. She did enjoy riding horses, galloping across her father's land and fancying herself some valiant general out on a campaign, the stick in her hand turned into a sword by her imagination, fields of grass turned into foes to vanquish. But admitting such things would be improper of a young lady, so she remained silent. 

The music started up again and they became too busy dancing to speak any further.