“Pverhap zere are bitter uses for your teem zen watching aftour ze untrustworthy femme?” Eleanor suggested her tone unimpeachably innocent. She looked Kasimir up and down.

 “And zen again, pverhaps not.” This comment bought a titter though the gathering which cased Kasimir to stiffen further. Further awkwardness was forestalled by the orchestra striking up a waltz. Oderick raised Eleanor’s hand and led her in the stately steps of the dance.
 
 
“You should not be so had on young Kasimir,” Oderick told her as they glided along, following the path of other couples in the great open space. Oderick was not a great dancer, but managed to avoid standing on her feet, which was really all she could expect from these unshaven brutes.
 
“He iz an uncouth boor,” she replied a trifle snippily. Oderick laughed with natural good humor.
 
“No doubt, but it is no easy thing being one of Todbringer’s bastards. Much is expected and no leeway is granted,” Oderick explained. Eleanor made a noncommittal sound and dismissed the man from her mind. Kasimir would never trouble her again.
 
 
“Ashante Lady d’Aberville,” Chancellor Teobald Henniker said as he took her hand at one of the partner changes. She had danced a half dozen with Oderick before it became apparent that a riot might ensue if he continued to monopolize her time. The stately waltz had given way to more spritely sarabans and roundels which owed much more the common people than the output of the cultural elites in Altdorf and Marienburg. Fortunately Emmaline was a quick learner and she had a wealth of prior experience. Dances were an excellent way to meet rich marks after all and she had spent a fair number of evenings with Brettonians learning how they did it to prepare to become Eleanor. They stepped off into the dance and it quickly became apparent that Henniker had far more talent for it than Oderick.

"I see you met young Reinhardt?" he asked as they twirled trough the other couples, the echoes of music cascading pleasantly around them. Eleanor frowned slightly, genuinely perplexed as to why this was coming up as well as a little irritated to be forced to deal with the bastard after she had put him from her mind.

"Oui a rather beerish young man," she sniffed. Henniker arched an eyebrow.

"Beerish?" he asked. Eleanor gave him a 'what can you do' smile.

"Beer, like the uncouth pig," she explained. Henniker nodded and smiled.

"Boorish, yes I see," Henniker agreed his eyes sharpening. It was an easy trick, to make a man feel superior to you and it worked nearly every time it was employed, the fake Brettonian accent was a wonderful opportunity to use it without seeming too bubble headed.

"So you do not all together agree with the Count and his party then?" Henniker asked, as though her words had given slip to some deep political intrigue.

"Ze only opiyon I ave of ze Duke is zat 'is bastard is a beer...boor," she repeated. Henniker was nodding as though they had just shared a confidence. The waltz turned, taking them close to the wall where Emmaline caught a glimpse of a stern looking man in the hat and coat of a witch hunter. Whether because of religion or occupation he stood alone among the Ulricans. His eyes seemed to search the crowd, but to her relief slid over her without showing any sign of interest.

"Perhaps we will speak more later mademoiselle," he told her handing her off to her next partner with a courtly bow.