Chapter 4 – Very Small Talk

Sugar and spice? No. Greed and cunning and ruthlessness; that's what the little girls of Runess were made of. Had a pirate been in the room, he would have recognized the wolfish look that crossed the debutante's face.

Chrisssiania could endure it all, the pinching shoes, the whalebone corset; because she knew that at the end of her silent suffering sat the prize.

Him.

She didn't know who he was – but names were unimportant. So were looks and manners and morals. Solvency and financial security; now those were entirely different stories.

One of the interchangeable maids offered her a choice of necklaces. She chose the polished yellow topaz. It matched her dress and was the biggest, most sparkling stone she owned. Necklaces were important, she reflected. They drew a man's eye to all the right places.

Another maid entered the room and curtsied. "Miss Chrissiania, the guests are arriving."

Chrissiania smiled – but it wasn't for the maid. It was practice for Him. "I'm almost finished."

Busy admiring herself in the mirror and putting on the finishing touches, Chrissiania did not notice one of the interchangeable maids carefully appraising the jewelry she was wearing – or where the other pieces were put in the jewelry box.

"How long is this driveway?" Smoker asked.

Tashigi stuck her head out the window. "I don't see the house yet, sir."

The large shade trees lined the raked gravel path like sentries; closing in, blocking all routes except one. Smoker was reminded of the brig at Marine Headquarters. It was a straight hallway, flanked by cells, leading to the final chamber - the holding cell for the condemned.

…dead man walking…

Smoker ground down on his cigars. He was thinking in metaphors. He'd be quoting dead playwrights and appreciating art next. He couldn't wait for this to get started so it would be over.


Chrissiania was surrounded by her friends. Well, sometimes they were her friends; right now they were potential rivals, but she had warned them off discretely.

Semidiscretely, she reflected. Perhaps promising to scratch their eyes out was not so discrete. But it had worked. The Marine was hers.

The sound of Annalinalou's fan snapping open was like the first shot fired in a war. The debutantes, all of whom were crowded together at one end of the hall, begin to surreptitiously scope out their quarry. But Chrissiania had bigger fish to fry than the lords and merchants already gathered in the ballroom.

A very well-paid servant brushed by her shoulder and offered her a mint julep. "He's here, miss."

Chrissiania quickly did a pre-meeting eyelash batting. Batting eyelashes was an important part of catching a man. They couldn't resist the helpless look it gave a young woman.

The page stood on the steps and announced, "Captain Smoker of the Marines – "

Chrissiania turned to get her first look at Him.

" – and guest!"

Guest?


"I feel really…exposed, sir."

"Maybe it's because of your dress..."

"Compared to the other women here, sir, my dress is quite conservative."

"Those other women aren't Marines."

Tashigi stood on the steps and gazed down into the ballroom. Her mother would have loved this. It looked like a lovely party but she'd been dragged to too many of these functions to miss the machinations, the groupings, the plotting, and the strategy sessions.

They were in the middle of a war and they were marked for death.

She caught the look a young woman gave her.

Addendum: She was marked for death.


Chrissiania made her way over to her father; gliding as gracefully as a cottonmouth snake through a swamp. "Father," she said, her voice breaking bitterly over each syllable, "That better be his spinster sister…"

"There's no need to worry, my dear. This will all be sorted out in a second. Where's your brother?"

"Where else?" She gestured with her fan to the open bar.

"Gather him up then come to the dais."

Lord Fop went to greet the distinguished guest and his unwelcome baggage.


Neither of them had made a move to join the guests. A good Marine always made an assessment of a potentially volatile situation before committing himself to action.

Tashigi was uncomfortably aware of the dagger stares she was getting from the debutantes. Smoker was uncomfortably aware that he was in a room where all the men appeared to be wearing wigs and pantyhose.

One of the wigged, hosed men broke away from the main crowd and made his way up the stairs to greet them.

The man bowed low, his curly powdered wig sweeping the ground. "I am Lord Fop, host of the Runess Debutante Cotillion."

Smoker remembered what the letter had said. "Major Brandnew gives his regards -"

The lord didn't particularly seem to care about Brandnew. "Sir, it is always a pleasure to have a representative of the Marines here at our galas. And what beauty are you escorting here this evening?" he asked, sweeping Tashigi's hand in his and lightly planting a kiss on her knuckles. "Your wife, sir?"

Smoker almost strangled on his cigar. "No!" he choked out.

"Definitely not!" Tashigi added emphatically. "That would be fraternization."

Lord Fop raised a powdered eyebrow. "She's your sister?"

Smoker regained his composure and answered gruffly. "She's my subordinate. This is Sergeant Major Tashigi."

Tashigi turned red, which could not, in any way, be described as 'blushing becomingly,' but she managed to curtsy without falling over.

"Oh?" Lord Fop said. Tashigi bit her lip. He had said 'oh?' in the same tone one used when talking about a pest infestation.

"Father?" A young lady and man were standing behind the man in the wig.

"There you are, children." Tashigi noticed that Lord Fop faltered over the word as if he wasn't used to acknowledging that he had offspring. "This is my daughter, Chrissiania."

She was a lithesome honey blonde with dark dove eyes and a cupid bow's mouth. Or that's how Chrissiania saw herself.

Smoker saw a skinny kid who had enough paint on her face to be an honorary member of the Clown Buggy Pirates.

Tashigi saw a viper in a dress.

"And this is my son, Merrick."

He was a strapping young brunette with an air of charm and mystery. Or that's how Merrick saw himself.

Smoker and Tashigi both saw a guy who abused hair pomade and was wearing hose.

"Dinner will be served shortly," Lord Fop added. "Please enjoy the hors d'oeuvres until then."

Smoker and Tashigi followed in the wake of the lord and his family. They did this very slowly, since Tashigi was negotiating steps and high heels at the same time.

"Sir, hors d'oeuvres are -."

"I know what they are, Tashigi"

"Humor me, sir."

"They're…tarts."


Lord Fop kept his diplomatic smile plastered on his face as he quietly snarled at his son. "Get that woman away from the Marine. Any means necessary, Merrick!"

Merrick straightened his tie and smoothed back his oiled hair. He glanced back at the woman in the burgundy dress and sized up his mission. "My pleasure, Father."