Moments after touch down, a town car pulled up. Miranda and Nigel slid into the back while Nicholas nervously climbed into the passenger seat.

.

.

"I'm sure it will be fine. I mean you're here and no one has shown up to haul you off to jail." Nigel tried to reassure Nicholas.

Nicholas swallowed and replied, "We haven't arrived yet."

Without anything more to say Nigel leaned back into his seat.

30 minutes later they pulled into a wide drive. Nigel was surprised at the size of the castle. He looked over at Miranda, who looked nonplussed. He schooled his features and waited for the car to come to a complete stop.

Andréa was waiting for them. Miranda stepped out of the car with Nigel following, before either could greet her, Nicholas darted forward.

"Your Majesty," he said as he bowed low.

Andréa stood passive for a moment, and then took a step forward, whatever she said was too low for them to hear but he vigorously shook his head before answering. Andréa turned to look behind her, shook her head and then said something else. Miranda decided she had waited long enough and walked forward, Nigel on her heels.

.

.

Andréa dismissed Nicholas as they approached. He stood to one side as she greeted Miranda. "Miranda," she smiled and then leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Miranda smiled back, "Andréa."

"Nigel, it's good to see you. Nicholas here will be your tour guide. I'm sorry that I can't spend more time with you but we'll catch up later."

With a nod Andréa dismissed him and grabbed Miranda's hand leading her into the palace.

"Nigel," Nicholas rejoined Nigel, "I'll show you to your quarters. We'll both be in the East wing."

"Wing?" Nigel's voice trailed off as Nicholas led him away.

.

.

Andréa pulled Miranda into her private quarters.

"Where is Beatrice?"

"With Brigitte," Andréa answered before capturing Miranda's lips in a kiss.

"And the ball? When do you need to get ready?"

Andréa pulled Miranda up the stairs. "The dressers will be here in 5 hours, receiving line at 7, dinner's at 8." She pressed Miranda against the bedroom door and kissed her again, her hands slid over Miranda's spine, and drew her closer. Miranda moaned and Andréa fumbled for the door knob.

They spilled into the room and Andréa guided them to the bed. Miranda felt her shirt being lifted and removed. Her own hands unbuttoned Andréa's slacks.

Andréa pulled off her shirt and then kissed Miranda, hands busy at Miranda's buttons. As Andréa kissed Miranda's neck, Miranda panted,

"What are you doing about Nicholas?"

Andréa pulled back, topless, pants kicked to the side and looked at Miranda, disheveled, bra half off, and pants unbuttoned. "Do you want to talk about this now?"

Miranda pulled Andréa back down. "We don't have to talk at all."

.

.

"So," Andréa wrapped her fingers in Miranda's hair, she lightly tugged her into a kiss, "how was your flight?"

Miranda rested, her body languid, against Andréa. "Fine. Thank you for sending the plane to New York for me."

"Hmm," she hummed into Miranda's hair. "It was already going…"

Miranda stopped her, her fingers pressing against her lips. "I know you hadn't planned on sending it. Nicholas said he wasn't even invited until Monday."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Miranda lifted her head and leaned on one arm, her body pressed tight against Andréa. She ran her fingers over her beautiful face. Traced her chin, her lips, her nose. She let her fingers dance over cheeks and sweep over her eyelids. They had only been apart for a week and a half, how she had missed her smile. "Don't lie," she kissed her full lips, "we can't work on lies."

Andréa smiled, "It was a small untruth. I missed you and I wanted you to be here."

"Well I'm here, so tell me about tonight and Nicholas."

"Nicholas?" Andréa stretched, her body pressing up into Miranda's before settling again. She yawned. "What about Nicholas?"

"Does he face execution?"

Andréa smiled. "No. I believe that my grandmother may have gone overboard with the threat. When I learned of it, I felt no need to correct his perception. New York has been good for him and his absence has been good for me."

"And now that he's back?" Miranda allowed her hands to stroke over Andréa's soft skin.

"He's," her voice stuttered as Miranda's fingers brushed over her nipple, "not, uh, he's not back. But he's allowed home for visits." She arched into Miranda again, pressing her body into Miranda's palm.

Miranda kept her touch light "And your chef? Have you seen him?" She tugged lightly on Andréa's nipple, pulling a moan from her lips. She dipped her head down and let her teeth tug on Andréa's ear.

"I, ah, I," Andréa lost her train of thought. When Miranda let her earlobe go, she turned her head and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

"Andréa," Miranda pulled back, "what about your chef?"

Andréa's grip tightened and pulled Miranda close and trapped her hands between them.

"He's not mine, but if you mean Nate. I've been told that he's arrived." She pecked Miranda's lips. "I'll find so time to speak to him during the ball."

"I don't see why that's necessary."

"It's not but at one time I meant something to him and he meant something to me, so I'll give him 15 minutes of my time, but Miranda you get me after the ball?"

"I believe I get you now also," and Miranda decided that nothing more needed to be said before she slid her body fully over Andréa's and freed her hands.

"Yay." Andréa laughed into the kiss.

.

.

A few hours later they joined Beatrice for lunch and enjoyed a few hours walking the grounds before they separated to get dressed.
At 6:45 they met again but only had time to share a quick peck to the lips before Andréa was swept away and Miranda waited for Nigel to arrive.

.

.

"Wow, these are some handsome digs," Nigel announced as he strolled into Andréa's apartments.

"Nigel," Miranda nodded.

"You look beautiful."

Before Miranda could reply, Nicholas swept into the room. "You both are beautiful and I am handsome and this is so much better than I imagined," he said, spinning around the room. "When I heard Amelia, I mean Andréa had taken over the turret I didn't think it would look this good."

"Ahem," Miranda cleared her throat, "Nicholas. I see you still live. If you'd like to remain living you'll explain why you are here."

"Sorry. Yes, of course René sent me to escort you both to the receiving line. After which I am to remain by your side throughout the night."

"Did René say why you are babysitting us this evening?" Miranda's voice dropped to icy levels.

"Don't think of it as babysitting. I've been promoted to royal advice giver. I'm to lead you both through the Royal Protocol." Nicholas slid his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants.

"I see." Miranda drew herself into an imposing stance.

"While I believe that neither of you would be harshly criticized for committing a gaff, the same would not be said about the Queen." Nicholas was quick to explain.

"Why would they criticize Andy?" Nigel adjusted his boutonniere. He had gone with a small gardenia and it just didn't sit right.

Nicholas walked over to Nigel and knocked his hands out of the way. "You're going to ruin it, here." He tucked it into place and secured it. "And to answer your question, everyone here knows about Miranda," he cocked his head towards Miranda, who watched as Nicholas helped Nigel, "so anything she does is seen as a reflection of Her Majesty. You're here with Miranda so your behavior also reflects on Andréa." He brushed the lapels of Nigel's jacket. "Well, now that that's sorted," Nicholas straightened his own jacket, "I believe we are ready to join the other to be announced. I'm to take you through the castle to the receiving line so you can skip the red carpet. Although," he paused in the doorway, "I was instructed to tell you if you wanted to walk the red carpet, where all the photographers are, I can take you that way also."

Miranda had no need to walk the red carpet. "Though the castle is fine Nicholas," Miranda nodded at the door.

"Right, so a quick run down," Nicholas began as he led them though the castle. "We'll arrive in the antechamber and wait until we are announced. Thankfully the receiving line is short so it will be Charlotte and then René. Have you met Charlotte?" Nigel shook his head while Miranda nodded yes. "Right so," he turned to Nigel, "she'll be the first one in the line. You don't shake her hand. René will greet you next. Then it's Andréa. Make sure you back away from her. Don't turn."

"Why not," Nigel asked as they moved through the seemingly never ending hallways.

"It's just rude. Okay, we're here." Nicholas adjusted his jacket once more and the stepped through the open door.

.

.

"You're kidding," Nigel whispered to Nicholas as he followed him in.

"About what," Nicholas scrunched his eyebrows in question.

"This is for real? I mean I know we're in a castle but," Nigel discreetly gestured to the enormity of the room.

The room was filled with people milling around. The women were dressed in full length gowns and draped in jewels; most had small tiaras and sashes. The men, Nigel and Nicholas included, were dressed nearly identically, in white tie regalia. The floors were polished marble and crystal chandeliers hung overhead. Liveried waiters glided between guests, offering champagne flutes that were tipped in gold. The guards stood at attention. Their uniforms consisted of a purple coat of velvet, cut-back frock style and single-breasted with seven buttons of gold running along the edges and embroidered with gold; the cuffs were wine colored with matching gold embroidery. A wine and gold silk waistcoat was worn under the coat. The breeches were cream colored velvet, with three gold buttons and gold buckles at the knee. Cream silk stockings, black patent leather shoes with gold buckles, gold hilt swords with cream colored scabbards and white gloves completed the uniform. Nigel stepped forward to really inspect the stitching; maybe, he thought, we could use this. He thought of the gowns that would be displayed in July. Yes, a formal ball as the theme, right before New Year's. He turned to say something to Miranda when Nicholas guided them to two more guards at the doors. He whispered their names and waited. A moment later the doors opened and a receiving line began.

"I assure you Nigel, it's completely real." She remembered her own sense of awe when Andréa had led her through these same rooms.

"Remember, just follow my example," Nicholas whispered as they walked in.

"Lord Nicholas Devereaux" Nicholas introduced himself to Charlotte, the first in the receiving line.

.

.

Charlotte smiled before turning to her right and introducing him to René.

René stuck out his hand to shake that of Nicholas. "Nicholas. A long time."

"Duke Thermopolis," Nicholas returned and felt as René squeezed his hand extra hard before turning to his cousin.

"I trust things are going well Lord Devereaux," Andréa greeted him with a tight smile.

"As well as can be expect Your Majesty," he bowed low at the waist and hovered a moment, careful not to touch her before standing to meet her eyes. She nodded once and he backed away, 5 steps and waited for the others.

Nigel felt a little overwhelmed. He followed Nicholas' example and bowed low over Andy's hand.

"Nigel, you don't need to bow. Nicholas is not in favor with the court and is trying to prove he respect The Crown," he felt her whisper.

"It's good to see you. You look very handsome," Andréa continued in her normal speaking voice.

"And you, Your Majesty are stunning."

He watched as she blushed prettily before turning to walk away. Nicholas grabbed him and stopped him in mid turn. "Remember you can't turn your back to the queen," he whispered, "Just take 5 steps back and turn to your left." Nigel felt Nicholas back away and now his own face blushed. He hoped it was half as pretty as Andy's.

"Miranda," Andréa breathed out before leaning in and bussing her cheeks. "You look delicious in that gown and I can't wait to remove it later," she whispered and then stood back. Miranda felt over heated as she nodded and then also stepped away. She had been told before about not turning her back to the queen besides she was having trouble tearing her eyes away from Andréa's delicious figure.

With a backwards glance, in which she caught the wink the Queen gave her, she headed to the bar. Nigel looked like he needed a drink.

.

.

As the receiving line looked to be ending, Miranda, who was not eavesdropping, heard "Nate, uh Nate Grenier." Miranda turned and watched as he stuck out his hand. Charlotte smiled and introduced him to René. René grabbed his hand and shook it, before he turn to Andréa. "Nate Grenier."

Andréa didn't reach out to touch him as she had Miranda but she did lean forward slightly. "I'll find you during the ball. In the meantime enjoy the food."

Nicholas rejoined Miranda. "Ah the least famous ex-boyfriend; I'm not sure I would have shown up."

Miranda turned to look at Nicholas. "For a man stuck in New York you seem to know a lot about the comings and goings of Andréa's personal life."

"Oh, well I used to date someone on the staff, so I spent the afternoon catching up." Nicholas looked around, the receiving line had finished.

"I see," Miranda sipped at her drink. "It wasn't the nanny was it?"

"Brigitte? Ha, not in a million years. He's a footman. We'll be going into the dining hall in a moment. I'll grab Nigel."

Nicholas and Nigel rejoined Miranda as dinner was called and the wait staff started herding them towards the tables. Even Miranda took a deep breath as they entered the room. The room had 30 foot high ceilings with sparkling chandeliers hanging every 15 feet. Large canvases covered the walls along with the decorative gold plates and gold trim ran the length of the glass double doors on each side of the dining room. Behind the head table hung a massive Genovian flag with the royal family's personal coat of arms. The flag was supported between two enormous columns that were decorated and topped with marble statues. The tables were covered in fine cream linen, flowers and golden candelabras. The chairs were gold backed and a gorgeous red patterned carpet ran from wall to wall.
They were guided to the table on the left, near the middle.

"Not too bad," Nicholas whispered.

Miranda turned to look at him.

"This is prime real estate. We are in the eye sight of the Queen. We're guaranteed food."

"Was that ever in question?" Nigel chimed in.

"Well the Queen is served first and when she's done we're all done. Plates are removed. It's widely known that her great great grandfather hated banquets so he would eat really fast, so fast that often half of the guests never received food before the course was removed."

"You're joking."

Nicholas raised his hand, and smiled as he said, "swear to God."

"See the massive flag behind the throne?"
Nigel nodded.

"That's an escape route. Rumor has it that it splits into a warren of tunnels. Only the Head of Security and the royal family know which tunnels led out and where they led to."

"When do we sit?" Nigel toyed with the back of his chair.

"When she does," Nicholas nodded as the Queen, Dowager Queen and René entered the room. Waiters sprang into action and new champagne flutes were given to each guest.

.

.

Andréa took a moment to straighten her train before she nodded towards René. He stepped forward and bowed to his cousin, as he straightened the room fell into complete silence. "Thank you friends for gathering here today to celebrate the birthday of Queen Amelia Andréa Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi. I ask that you all raise a glass in celebration. To Her Majesty the Queen." René lifted his glass.

"Long live the Queen." Echoed across the room.

Andréa stepped forward. "Thank you." She sipped her own glass before she sat. At that signal everyone sat and waiters swarmed the royal family and then the tables of guests.

Dinner passed with pleasant conversation and good food. When all the courses were cleared, René stood again and invited the guests into the connecting ballroom. Miranda looked for Andréa but she had disappeared.

Nicholas offered his arm as he stood from his chair. "Her Majesty will join us after everyone has assembled in the ballroom. She will open the ball with the first dance. René is her escort so they will dance together first and after she will be required to dance with the Prime Minister. After that maybe a few dances with leaders and anyone else who catches her eye."

.

.

Miranda allowed Nicholas to lead her into an equally beautiful room.

Nicholas craned his head and looked around. "It's around 10:00 now. I don't believe she's ever kept a ball going past midnight so she should be joining us shortly."

Miranda didn't say anything but she noticed right away that the cook was missing.

.

.

"Nate, hi, we met earlier." René stopped Nate from entering the ballroom.

"Yeah," he ran his hands through his hair. "I remember."

"Right. If you come with me I'll take you to the Queen."

Nate straightened out his jacket. "Sure, uh lead the way."

René took Nate into an antechamber.

"Uh,"

"Just wait," René relaxed and waited for Andréa.

At her entrance, he bowed. "You can wait outside René."

Dismissed René backed away before shutting the doors behind him.

Nate just stood and looked at Andy.

"It's good to see you." Andréa wasn't quite sure what to say. She resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her gown.

"Uh, yeah, you too." Nate, while handsome, looked uncomfortable in his fitted jacket. There were no pockets to shove his hands into and he too seemed to have no idea about what to say.

"Would you like to sit?" Andréa offered and pointed to the two chairs near the wall.

"Sure." Nate looked around as he sat before making eye contact with Andréa again.

"So…" She wasn't sure how to start. This wasn't a situation she had to face before.

"Yeah…" Nate swallowed twice; he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. "Andy what am I even doing here?"

"Why did you come?"

"I was invited…"

"I know that, but still."

"Well some snooty woman called me and said you missed me and would love to see me. So I rented this monkey suit and flew here." He pulled at his jacket.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know beforehand. But that still doesn't answer why you came? Even if it was true and I did miss you, we've been done for years. We haven't spoken since I left New York. What did you think would happen?"

"No, you've been done. I didn't know you left the city. I've just been waiting to run into you at some farmers market or that coffee shop we used to get those croissants from. I tried to ask Lily but she moved to San Francisco. I even…" he cut himself off. "I don't know what I thought. Maybe there'd be dancing and I'd sweep you off your feet and back to New York."

"Nate." Andréa spoke his name softly. "There was never, I mean I can't ever…"

"I mean how was I supposed to know that you…this. I," he rubbed at his face. "What was I? A joke?

"No. Never. I…" Andréa sighed… "you were so sweet, when we met and earnest and passionate and I loved that about you."

"Did you love me?" His voice broke.

Andy smiled, eyes watery, "I tried. I wanted too. It was easy being with you. There weren't any expectations. I wanted to be content."

"So what, you liked me because I was easy. That's bullshit." Nate's own eyes began to water but he shook his head and tried not to cry.

"I didn't say you were easy, I said being with you was easy, in the beginning. But you were right when you said at the end that the person who calls I took was the relationship I was in."

"Well, yeah. I mean I've seen the papers, so I get it. Were you with her back then?"

"How can you ask that?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I don't even know you." Nate's tone hardened.

"I…you knew me. You knew the real me. This," she waved hand around, "is just a job with a specific set of perks. But you knew me then. The clothes and money were… it never was important to me, but…"

"Really," he cut her off. "So you would have given it all up, to what? Live in an efficiency flat while we struggled to make rent. God, what a joke. All those months, worrying about rent when you could have just…"

"It wasn't like that. I wanted a chance at a real life before I had to come back to this. This, it's hard. I know it doesn't seem that way." Andréa defended herself.

"Yeah, real hard," Nate snorted in disbelief, "people falling all over themselves to bring you whatever you want, whenever. Must be terrible."

"See, that's one of the reasons we couldn't work," Andréa replied, anger evident in her voice.

"Yeah because you're too spoiled," Nate said haughtily.

"No because you look down on money and people who have it."

"That's shit Andy. I know lots of people with money."

"Yes, but you work for them. And don't try to tell me you don't think that all rich people are spoiled. I know you. I remember you coming home and bitching about how some princess wanted you to change the menu or how…"

"That's different," he cut her off again.

"Of course it is. My point is that you resented people who have money, especially if you feel that they haven't earned it."

"Well you used to be the same. You mocked those, what did you call them? Clackers."

"I mocked fashion then because I didn't understand it. Not because I thought people with money were stuck up. You mocked them for spending money on things you deemed useless."

"Well," Nate started.

"And you resented it when I worked for Runway and started to appreciate the work that goes into fashion," Andréa cut him off this time.

"Because you were never home," Nate raised his voice.

"No, you were never home, "Andréa countered.

"I was home," Nate leaned back into the chair sulkily.

"Yeah, after 2. I had to get up every morning for work."

"Well that's not true, you obviously didn't have to work."

Andréa breathed out, her fingers rubbed briefly against her temples. "That's what I'm talking about. This is a lot of work. You said something at the end, right before I left for Paris."

"I know what I said and I was right," Nate interjected, "you were in a relationship with her."

"No, you weren't right. Miranda and I weren't in a relationship at least not in the way you meant. We didn't…you know that's not what I was referring to. It was right before that. You told me to stop pretending we had anything in common. I realized that you were right. We no longer had anything in common."

"So then why the invite? Why all this? Just to rub it in," Nate's voiced had taken a petulant tone.

"Nate, was I ever one to gloat?" Andréa tilted her head annoyed.

"Only over monopoly," Nate flashed a boyish grin.

Andréa felt the bands around her heart loosen and chuckled, "yeah, okay, maybe but you're worse."

"Yeah," Nate shrugged, also seeming to relax.

"It wasn't you. It was me. Back then it was me. I should have told you. I just wanted, you know." Andréa allowed herself to inelegantly shrug her shoulders.

"I guess."

"Your Majesty," René opened the door and interrupted.

Andréa waved him away.

"I'm sorry Nate. I have to go and open the ball."

He snorted, "yeah I think I'll just…"

"You won't stay?"

"Nah, it's not really my thing besides I want to get back to my restaurant."

"I understand, and Nate, congratulations on the opening of your restaurant. I heard you've had great reviews." Andréa stood.

"Yeah, it's going good." Nate followed suit.

"I have to…" She nodded towards door

"Yeah I'll," Nate tilted his head towards other door.

Andréa leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Good bye Nate."

"Bye Andy."

.

.

Andréa took a moment. Seeing Nate again after all these years was more difficult than she had thought.

"Andréa," René called out softly across the room.

She turned, smiled crossed the room. He leaned in and kissed her temple. "Don't worry cousin, everything will be fine. We'll dance a little. You'll have your toes stepped on by the Prime Minister and then after midnight you'll be alone with Miranda again."

"You always know what to say René." She smiled as they entered the ballroom doors.

"It's a gift." He led them to the center of the room. As the piano and the violinist began, he took a step back and bowed low, his gloved left hand pressed tight against his back. Andréa did not curtsey but did incline her head before René stepped into her space. Their hands met in a loose hold and her left arm came to rest on his shoulder just as his right hand rested against her upper back. Then they started to move. The Butterfly Waltz played as René led Andréa round the ballroom.

.

.

"She really is very graceful." Nigel stood beside Miranda and Nicholas as they and the rest of the guests watched as Andréa and René danced a full circuit around the area.

"Umm," Nicholas agreed, "but she wasn't always. The first time I met her was at a ball and she stepped right on to my toe."

Miranda sipped her champagne and used the glass to hide her smile.

After two turns around the floor the waltz ended. René bowed again and stepped back. Immediately a rather rotund man stepped forward and bowed. After him, the floor filled with guests and the Blue Danube waltz played.

.

.

Nicholas turned to Miranda. "May I?"

Miranda set the champagne flute down and followed Nicholas to the floor. He bowed, she curtseyed and they joined the quick moving couples.

"The man dancing with Andréa is the Prime Minster; terrible dancer but a good friend to the family. After this dance, she will dance with few more elected officials," he paused as they turned through a crowded area of the floor, "then she will need to partner with René for the Genovian waltz."

"The what?"

"The national waltz and then the orchestra will take a break. The Dowager Queen will then toast her and retire for the evening."
Miranda tightened their clasp as they passed a group of swirling couples.

"After the orchestra is back, René will partner her again for the Viennese waltz. This time they will be joined by Andréa's inner circle. Then she's finally free to dance with whomever she wants. Well," he tightened his grip and offered a sad smile, "almost any one."

"Yes." Miranda didn't say more. She wasn't ready to swirl around the floor with hundreds of eyes on her. "You are awfully well informed for someone who just arrived."

"Well, we can thank René for that. He wanted to tell you himself but you were indisposed."

"Indeed." The song ended and Miranda nodded and Nicholas bowed and then led them off the floor.

"So," Miranda asked as she claimed a new flute from a passing waiter, "will she dance with anyone who asks?"

"Yes and no. There are people in this room she shouldn't snub but she can choose not to dance with them."

.

.

Nigel returned to Miranda's side. "That looked fun."

"It was nice to dance again." Miranda sipped and watched as new couples formed and danced. Andréa was of course the loveliest of them all.

Nigel danced and then returned to Miranda. Finally the orchestra broke for a small break and the waiters made sure everyone had something to drink. Miranda had found herself engaged with two Duchesses when Andréa joined her.

"Miranda," Andréa nodded at the two women who quickly excused themselves, "are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, I was, but not as much as you my dear. That's an awfully large smile you're wearing for someone who didn't want a ball."

"Hmm," Andréa took a glass of water from a passing waiter, "I don't like the formality of it. I do like the dancing."

"Yes, you're quite skilled. The last dance…"

"The Genovian waltz?"

"Was very lovely," Miranda finished.

"I can assure you when I first learned it, it was anything but pretty. Did Nicholas tell you about the next dance?"

"He did."

"Good, it's my last formal dance and then I will need to dance 1 or 2 more dances but after that I want to dance with you."

"Andréa…" Miranda looked at Andréa in shock.

"Oh, I know not here but," she looked down and then back up through her eyelashes "I want to show you something and then we can go shortly after."

"Don't you need to stay until everyone leaves?"

"Do you stay at the MET until everyone leaves?"

"No, but that's quite different."

"Miranda, I'm not going to see you for 3 weeks. I don't want to waste more time than I have to."

Miranda allowed a smile to bloom. "Well, it is your party."

"Exactly."

.

.

At that moment the Dowager Queen stood from her chair. "Thank you all for attending this evening to celebrate my grand-daughter's birthday. Please raise your glasses. To Queen Andréa."

"Long live the Queen," echoed across the room.

"Excuse me; I need to say good night to my grandmother." Andréa quickly dropped a kiss on Miranda's cheek before she hurried away.

.

.

René arrived in her place. "Miranda."

"You danced brilliantly René."

"Thank you Miranda. If you've enjoyed it so far, I think you'll really like the next dance."
Before he could say more, the orchestra returned and René went after his cousin.

.

.

Miranda noticed a number of young men and women file out of the ballroom and the audience seemed to take a collective step back.

"What's happening," Nigel asked as he slid into place next to Miranda again.

"It's the Viennese waltz." Nicholas answered as he also materialized from the crowd. "It's rather spectacular to watch. I saw last year's ball on youtube."

The orchestra began. The beginning notes of Sphären-klänge filled the room. A line of men and women, led by René and Andréa entered the room. The women's left hands rested softly on the back of the men's right hand. The men's left hand, gloved in white, tucked behind them against their black jackets. The dancers came into position and then rose on their toes and pivoted towards one another. Miranda watched as the women crossed in front of the men and then switched hands. The men skillfully guided their partners around in a circle twice before lifting them at the waist. The women were lowered down, then shifted to the right of their partner, came into dancing position again before being dipped and held for a long moment. The women then rose and they all floated across the floor and formed a perfect circle before bowing and curtseying. Then they began to dance. They twirled in sync, spun out and in, arms stiff and lines clean. The circle of dancers tightened and then the men lifted the women again. The music quickened and so did the dancers. They expanded the circle, twirling faster and faster until the circle became two lines and then four. They glided, lifted, dipped and swung their partners in perfect synchronization. It culminated with a deep dip and then a flip of the women over their partner's shoulders. The guests broke out in applause as the dance ended and the dancers bowed and curtseyed.

"We should…"

"I think a white tie theme…" Nigel and Miranda spoke over one another.

"The MET next year," Miranda continued.

"Oh yes," Nigel agreed.

"We'll need dancers." Miranda wouldn't chance that celebrities could pull off such a dance.

.

.

As Nigel and Miranda planned, Nicholas stiffened.

Miranda watched as a man snagged Andréa's hand, without so much as a by your leave, before she was steered onto the now full dance floor. She couldn't read lips but she could see the anger on Andréa's face. Nicholas stepped towards the floor.

"Who is that man?" Miranda asked Nicholas.

"Erik von Detten of Munich. He's a cad and a disgrace and beloved cousin to Baroness von Troken. How he got in here is suspect. He never would have been invited."

"And why is that?" Miranda watched as he kept a tight grip on Andréa. She felt her ire increase, how dare he keep touching her.

"His family is next in line if Andréa and her daughter die. That family has been trying to get a hold of Genovia for centuries. If you thought what I did was bad…" Nicholas trailed off.

"What have they done?" Nigel loved gossip.

"It's mostly court chatter but many believe that they have had a hand in a number of court deaths."

"Deaths, like murder," Nigel asked shocked.

"No one has been able to prove it of course." Nicholas nodded as he spoke.

"Are the police involved," Nigel moved closer.

"What would the police be able to do?" Nicholas looked at Nigel questionably.

"Well, investigate." Nigel cocked his head. "Don't the police investigate murder here?"

"Oh, I see," Nicholas nodded his head. "Yes, of course they do but the last court death was 120 years ago."

"We're talking about deaths from 120 years ago?"

"If you two are quite done, where is her security?" Miranda looked for Lars as she asked Nicholas.

"Andréa waved him off." Nicholas answered.

They both looked at Andréa who had almost come to a standstill on the edge of the dance floor. Her jaw was tight.
Erik had his lips against her ear. Whatever he was saying was definitely not pleasant.

"This is ridiculous. I'm going over there." Miranda decided as she skirted around the dancers, reputation be damned.

As Miranda reached Andréa she heard her say "…I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole," before she stomped down on his foot. Without a word she caught Miranda's wrist, turned her head towards Lars, who had also arrived, "remove him at once. Find his date and have them both removed. Talk to Paul about having his visa revoked. I don't want him within 100 miles of me."
.

Lars bowed and then forcefully removed him from the room.

"Let's get out of here. I don't want to dance with anyone else."

.

.

Miranda followed as Andréa steered them through a door and out into a garden. Heat lamps cast a soft glow over the area. Music seeped out of the ballroom, slightly muffled but still auditable.

"I'm glad you're here tonight Miranda."

Miranda reached out and cupped her lover's chin. "Andréa…"

The soft beginning of the Second waltz filtered out around them.

"May I have the last dance of the evening Miranda?" Andréa whispered, their lips nearly touching.

Miranda felt Andréa step closer as her hand came to rest on Miranda's lower back. Their palms slid together and Miranda felt her heart beat quicken as Andréa began to lead her around the courtyard. Their dresses brushed together as they kept time with the music. The glow of lights cast a soft warm light over them as they moved. Each turn brought them closer until finally Andréa captured Miranda's lips in a heated kiss.

When they broke apart Andréa whispered, "Come on, the night's not over yet."

Miranda followed her hurried steps. 3 weeks until the next time they'd meet, Miranda fully agreed that the night wasn't over yet.