Paws and Prejudice

Eight

Judy tilted her head jauntily, looking down at his proffered paw. "You may, milord." She choked back an inane giggle, gently giving her dove-grey paw to him, which his red fur promptly covered as he squeezed it gently. His paw was large, compared to hers, and bore a line of callouses. But it held her gently enough as he gently guided her through the waltz.

She smiled at him as she danced, in a way no proper lady should smile at an unmarried male mammal, especially one so high above her in social standing.  It wasn't a flirtatious smile, of course. It was a smile of shy friendship, of laughter and sincerity, a quick flashing of white teeth, a dauntless glance into his eyes, letting him see the frank honesty written in her irises. He returned it to her, a strange feeling stirring in his chest.

~•~

Nick and Judy danced for an undeterminable amount of time, their movements changing pace and rhythm with the music, but neither one left, either to go to their dearest family or change a stained shirt. Or to seek a chaperone, as was good and proper. It wasn't as if they were doing anything improper, balls were for dancing, after all.

He enjoyed her company, her gentle tone voicing intelligent opinions and well told stories, amusing him. For they did not dance in silence, and a steady friendship and an easy alliance sprang up between them without either saying a word alluding to it. It wasn't a formal pact, but he recognized that she was a kindred spirit, and felt that little was lacking for the time spent in her company.

Nearly anything, any woman, was better than spending more time with Ms. Savage. He wasn't oblivious to her attentions, but held nothing but a cool indifference, closer to exasperation, for the doe. He tolerated her for the sake of her brother, the only one among his class amiable enough to tolerate close companionship with him and seemingly enjoy it.

When it began to get late, and Judy left so that her mother or younger sisters not find them dancing together in a curtained alcove and naturally compromise her honor and his secrecy, he slipped away up the servant's stairs to change out of his ruined shirt and contemptuously abandon his hated tailcoats, leaving the overcoat limply sagging from an armchair as he dressed in his nightclothes, falling asleep wearily, the music twining through his dreams.