A/N: I did not expect to be back after only two weeks, but I had this chapter gathering dust in my draft folder along with the next one, so I can post that next week and then I'll have had almost a month off without any pressing need to get a chapter drafted, finished, and posted, so it all works out. I really have no self control when it comes to this fic. The aim is to at least space out updates a wee bit so I can stave off the mourning period when it's done. Do you smell that? Smells like plot.

Never let them see you sweat.

It was good advice - repeated to death for a reason - but somewhat difficult to follow in tropical climates such as these. Especially under fifty layers of fabric, and in a room full of people that wished nothing more than to see her fall and smack her face off of Governor Swann's pristine marble flooring. All the more reason to play serene, she supposed. James pressed his hand atop her own where it sat in the crook of his arm, and to the rest of the world it would've simply looked like a gesture of warmth at most, but they couldn't see how he squeezed her hand - or how tightly she squeezed his arm in turn.

It was just shite. She'd hated this sort of thing last time she was here, and that was before she'd even actually given them a reason to hate her guts. The good news was, she supposed, that none of them could actually do anything to hurt her. None but Beckett, at least. Maybe that was why it was so infuriating that she was uncomfortable - she didn't give a shit what these people thought of her, they could never understand her set of circumstances anyway, and even if they did not like her, she wasn't particularly fond of them, either. And yet, with every judgemental once-over and every snicker or whisper behind her back, she wanted nothing more than to flee Governor Swann's mansion and run all the way home.

But she wouldn't. Not only because she couldn't, but because she refused. So she kept her back straight (well, she didn't have much of an option on that score thanks to the corset), her shoulders squared, and her chin up. Most importantly, whenever she caught anybody staring at her, she stared back until they looked away. By the time she'd made it through the entrance hall and into the ballroom, she'd won several staring contests. Victories around here were usually much more of a hard won thing, so she had to take the small ones where she could - and when she met the dark gaze of Amelia Simmonds, she took quite a bit of petty pleasure in smiling at the woman.

"Ah! The man of the hour - excuse me, the couple of the hour!" Governor Swann greeted cheerfully when he spotted them.

The volume of his voice drew in even more attention, but Theo half-suspected that was the intent. Mainly because the Governor's cheer did not match his face. He'd aged since they'd been away, and in a way that seemed to have less to do with time itself but the pressures he'd been under in that time. Dark circles threatened to form beneath his eyes, and there were a few new lines on his face that she could've sworn hadn't been there before.

"Mrs Norrington, it's a fine thing indeed to see you looking so well after your ordeal," the man said warmly once they were in front of him.

Being referred to like that - Mrs Norrington - was still taking some getting used to. It felt like some sort of disguise she was wearing, another in a line of identities she'd worn since arriving here, rather than the truth. But it wasn't unpleasant.

"Thank you, Governor," she smiled "I'm glad to see you again."

Beckett stood to the side, looming in a way that was pretty impressive given his stature. Theo didn't give a damn if jokes about his height, even if there were only mental ones, were a low blow - as far as she was concerned, he'd started it by making comments about her accent. They could both be unoriginal assholes.

"Admiral and Mrs Norrington," he greeted "Welcome back to civilization."

Had she not been obligated to play nice, Theo would've pointed out that they'd returned with some pretty lovely souvenirs for him.

"We are relieved to have returned, Lord Beckett," James replied evenly.

Theo bowed her head in a lovely show of demure agreement. Or so she hoped.

"I had hoped to have a word with you in private," Beckett replied.

"Of course," James took a step away from her, but Beckett was already interrupting.

"No, not you, Admiral. Your wife."

Her head turned, mostly without meaning to, to James - searching for some indication that this was as strange as she already knew it was. It wasn't much of a slip, though, if it made it look like she was waiting for his approval. His features slackened in surprise and then he appeared to take charge of his face before, thankfully, anything more could show.

"Of course," he said, the hand over hers squeezing it briefly before he dropped his arm and her grasp fell away from his sleeve.

Beckett took a step to the side and then inclined his head for her to follow, waiting until she began to do so before he walked, leading her in the direction of the doors that led out to the garden as if this was his home. There was a fair deal of tittering in their wake as Theo followed behind Beckett, taking advantage of the path he cleared rather easily through those gathered.

Despite the cool night air outside, and the solitude that the gardens afforded, being out here alone with Beckett was far more stifling than being stuck in that ballroom ever could have been. Theo allowed herself to fidget with her fan as they drew to a stop. It betrayed her nerves, but a woman in her position with nothing to hide would be nervous - so, perhaps somewhat paradoxically, acting like was not nervous would betray her nerves more than showing them…and make them appear far more sinister.

"You look a far sight from how you did when first we met," Beckett commented.

"It'd be worrying if I didn't."

"Yes," he commented in response to her joke "It's said that you have a strange sense of humour."

"We're doing our best to remedy it."

"I wish your husband luck," he said drily - and she almost laughed…right up until he continued "I imagine it's how you formed such a productive working relationship with Jack Sparrow."

"That was more necessity than anything, my lord."

"To flee Port Royal in a flurry of hysterical heartbreak? We know one another little, Mrs Norrington, but you don't seem the sort."

"To save my friend, originally. The heartbreak came after."

"Ah, yes. Your friend. Your husband's ex-fiancée, no less."

He was probing for sore spots. Pretty blatantly, at that - maybe hoping to piss her off, too, all in one.

"You've met Elizabeth Swann, haven't you? If so, you'll understand why I'm fine with playing second fiddle to her. I'd question his taste levels, otherwise."

"The sense of humour returns," he said, unsmiling.

"Oh, I'm not joking," she said - jokingly.

Maybe she was dressed up in the colours of their flag, but they could never take away the colours that lay inked across her back beneath it. New English surname or no, she wouldn't be dragged into their little games - she wouldn't be cowed by him. Not least because, in true Irish spirit, she knew that the best way to win against somebody who was trying to annoy you was to laugh. Maybe that made Jack part Irish.

"What would it take to make you stop joking, I wonder?" He commented as though to himself.

Theo did not respond to that at first - mostly because the response that first came to mind was to ask if he was trying to flirt with her, and that would definitely be a step too far.

"I apologise, Lord Beckett. I know it can be off-putting, it's just a bit of a daft nervous habit."

"You're nervous?"

"You're the first Lord I've met - and I won't pretend the circumstances of our introduction were ideal. I was tired…overcome by everything I'd endured."

"And yet it's your prior circumstances that put you in a position to be of some use to me."

Fuck. Theo breathed a laugh.

"I'm not sure how that could be the case."

"Once the Endeavour departs, I wonder if you would make the time to pay a visit to Sparrow. I've informed my men, they'll offer no argument."

Theo shifted uncomfortably. Not because of the request itself - out of all of the things Beckett might ask of her, this was probably the least painful thing she could imagine. But it was the fact that he was asking it at all. What was his game here?

"I'm not sure my husband would approve," she said slowly.

"Why should he not? Given that I am his superior?"

"We are newly pardoned - to consort with a pirate so soon after…it may lead people to think that we're undeserving of the clemency we were granted."

"Then by all means, neglect to tell anybody. My men will hardly do so," his response was bored at best.

"Very well," she said reluctantly "But might I ask what it is you want me to speak to him about?"

"Whatever it is you might usually speak of," he said as if she was an idiot "It's a social call, not a mission, Mrs Norrington. It would do him well to see for himself the benefits that come with cooperation."

Pretending to believe a single word of the bullshit leaving his mouth was actually more difficult than genuinely believing it might've been. If Jack didn't feel like playing along, no amount of seeing her well-dressed, bathed, and fed would change his mind. So what was Beckett's game here? Still, she had little choice other than to play along.

"All right. I'll call on him next week. He's still in the infirmary?"

"Indeed. Where he moves to next depends much on whether the sight of you instils a change of heart."

"But no pressure," she muttered.

That earned her a strange look, her phrasing lost on him. Another petty victory, she supposed.

James watched with grim discomfort as Theodora and Beckett returned to the ballroom.

"There's an exchange I never expected to witness," Groves commented at his side.

"Indeed," James replied flatly.

The Lieutenant seemed to share his trepidation. Gillette, however, who stood with them and was deep in his cups (judging by the flush working its way up his neck), missed the point of his meaning.

"Yes, it appears Miss Byrne's upwards mobility knows no bounds."

James stilled, one eyebrow slowly raising as Groves shifted uncomfortably. Across the room, Theodora parted from Beckett and, never the sort to spend an event hiding behind her husband, moved to stand at the side of the room, staring into her champagne glass. Others may have taken it as an attempt to appear distracted, but he could tell that the furrow in her brow was a genuine one, and that she could not see the glass in her hand as she grew lost in her thoughts. What had Beckett said to her?

"You are referring, I think, to Mrs Norrington?" Groves made a valiant attempt to save the situation from Gillette's stupidity.

"Yes, yes, of course," Gillette waved a hand "There is some curiosity, though, Admiral - has she any family?"

"A father in Ireland," James answered shortly.

This conversation was not one he enjoyed having - in fact, he was beginning to suspect that he'd soon resent it far more if Gillette continued to steadfastly ignore the warning looks Groves was doing his utmost to point his way - but he knew if he shunned all questions to do with Theodora, curiosity over her would only increase tenfold.

"Ah, perhaps you might visit once the pirate threat is eradicated once and for all," Groves said.

"Perhaps we might," James inclined his head.

"A chance to see the potato farm you're destined to inherit - a strange dowry, if I may say, but a dowry all the same, I suppose," Gillette 'teased'.

Groves winced "Gillette, now might be a fitting time for you to dislodge your foot from your mouth."

"I'm teasing, Groves, Admiral Norrington knows I mean nothing by it," he waved a hand.

"I'm not sure any of us know such a thing," Groves insisted.

"I only mean," Gillette was blind to the curl of James' lip and the effort he was funnelling into controlling his temper "That the leap from Miss Swann to Miss By- Mrs Norrington was a curious one to any eye. That's no secret, is it?"

"Be very careful, Gillette," James warned.

"She's a beauty, nobody can deny that - it's why half the women here despise her so," he chuckled.

"Gillette," Groves looked nothing short of dismayed.

How many drinks had the dolt downed to speak in such a manner? Or, James wondered, if the question wasn't how used he was to having such discussions regarding Theodora to be so comfortable saying all of this now. Still, his cheeks were flushed pink and he continued to chuckle inanely as though completely blind to the fact that neither of the two men he spoke with were laughing along with him. Once, when they were still in Tortuga, Theodora had jokingly suggested that he 'count to ten' when one of the more belligerent of the tavern's patrons had tried his patience. James was beginning to understand the suggestion. He got reached five before his hold on his temper waned.

"And, class disparity aside, I won't pretend to be ignorant to the likely benefits of having such a spirited wife - perhaps the class disparity even has a role to play with-"

"Hold your tongue, sir," James snapped.

Those immediately near them fell silent, turning to regard them curiously - and it had a ripple effect, a great portion of the room had quietened and turned to peer at them with undisguised intrigue. It was then, too late, that Gillette finally saw his face through his wine-addled haze and noted the undisguised fury that lay there.

"Sir, I…I never meant to," he hesitated, and then looked to Groves who raised his eyebrows and shrugged just slightly in a way that said very clearly that he'd tried to warn him, and could no longer help him.

"Leave us," James ordered Groves.

Gillette paled further - but his dread was outweighed only by Groves' relief, as he spun on his heel and began striding with almost impressively feigned cheerfulness towards Theodora herself.

"Mrs Norrington! A dance, if you'd be so kind?"

Theo looked, baffled, between Groves' outstretched hand as he approached, and the white hot fury on James' face as he rounded on a wide-eyed, blanching Gillette.

"I- yeah, sure - um, that is, yes. Of course."

Taking his hand, her eyes flickered back to James as he spoke to Gillette in low, stern tones while the man seemed able to do little other than gulp and nod silently in response.

"What's going on there?" She asked as he led her to the dance floor.

"Would you accept it if I simply advised you to pay it no mind?"

The look she gave him answered that question, and he grimaced uncomfortably.

"Admiral Norrington is…educating Gillette on the proper respect with which to refer to the wife of his superior."

It took her a moment, even as long as she'd been here, to un-tease the meaning of Groves' words - mostly because she was completely preoccupied watching the dressing down James was delivering. Was it the honeymoon phase talking or was she just hopelessly in deep by finding his anger attractive? When not directed at her, of course - and not over something that actually had fatal consequences. Maybe it was knowing he was defending her honour. How many guys had she known in the past (or, well, the future) who would get annoyed at her for being pissed if one of his buddies insulted her?

Despite the flush it brought to her face, though, she couldn't help but frown as they took their places among the other dancers.

"I don't want to cause trouble," she murmured.

"Gillette caused the trouble by being a fool and, on this night, a drunk - and failing to realise whom he was speaking to. It would speak ill of Admiral Norrington if he did not defend you," Groves replied "And of you, no doubt, when all of the good gentlefolk gathered here took it as a sign that he did not believe you worth defending."

While the dancing here wasn't quite like riding a bike, she still wasn't half so lost as she was the first time she stepped foot in a ballroom. There was a little bit of faltering and unsurety, but the moves were repetitive and once she got the hang of them it was mostly remembering what those repetitions were. And she was distracted from embarrassment over her dancing skills by her bashfulness over the eyes constantly flickering between the telling off Gillette was receiving, and her as she danced with Groves.

"Won't I be accused of fuelling drama between my husband and his men?" She asked doubtfully.

"On the contrary, a firm precedent is being set before the eyes of all those who may be interested. If they wish to disrespect you, that will be the consequence. Gillette is a snob and a fool, and the both of those flaws combined led him to the idiotic assumption that he could say what he liked about you in the Admiral's presence and, perhaps most stupidly of all, have him find it amusing. Admiral Norrington is correcting that notion - Gillette's pride will be wounded, and he's in for a sorry time on this upcoming mission, but he cannot retaliate."

"Where would I be tonight without you to translate all of this for me?" She snorted.

"It's all part of my cunning plan. If I stay in your good books, I avoid being in Gillette's shoes further down the line."

"Oh, I can't wait to leverage this further," she teased.

"Your time with Sparrow has changed you, after all," he shot back.

Theo snorted - but she couldn't particularly argue. He was also one of the few here who would say that and have it not be a condemnation, so it was easy to let it slide.

Groves' invitation to dance triggered a knock-on effected that she didn't entirely appreciate. Next came the Governor, which was fairly awkward but a sweet gesture all the same, followed by a handful of other men - most of them married (and thus risking the ire of their wives), and all of them being ones she remembered as especially loyal to James. Maybe they were eager to avoid the absolute bollocking they'd all just seen Gillette get - and she was thankful that he, at least, had decided to keep his distance.

Four or five dances later she was finally afforded a breather, and let out a sigh of relief when James came to her side - and, best of all, offering a glass of champagne.

"Are you alright?" She asked as she accepted it, regarding the annoyance that seemed to have taken hold of every speck of his posture.

"I'll be better when this is over," he muttered.

"I'll drink to that," she took a sip of champagne "What was…"

She trailed off, thinking better of the question, given both the setting and the look on his face.

"Don't trouble yourself over it," he said.

"I'm always troubled," she snorted.

"And I would not seek to add to those troubles," he said firmly, glancing around before continuing "Although it would seem that Beckett would."

"Later," she murmured.

He nodded grimly, and then seemed to remember that they were supposed to be putting on a display of marital bliss, so forced a smile to his face that looked like it pulled uncomfortably at his lips.

"Any chance of you saving your favourite wife a dance later?" She suggested.

"Would that we were allowed," he sighed.

"Allowed? Who wouldn't allow it?"

"Etiquette."

"What, because this night is in our honour? Or is there a rulebook regarding how those recently cleared of piracy are to behave at balls thrown by their governors?"

"Because we are married," he corrected.

"Absolutely bloody backwards," she grumbled.

That put a semblance of warmth into his smile, at least, as he huffed a laugh "I'm warmed to hear my dancing skills force you to regard it as such a loss."

"You're a man of many talents."

That earned her a warning look - any edge it might've had dampened by how the smile on his face was now entirely genuine. Unfortunately, that was remedied almost immediately when they spotted Beckett approaching. Theo sipped at her champagne again…mostly resisting the urge to chug it.

"Admiral Norrington, the man of the hour," he greeted "Congratulations once again on your promotion."

Theo wondered if she was meant to be offended that he didn't afford her a glance. Mostly she was just relieved.

"My thanks, Lord Beckett," James responded.

"I wonder if I might have the pleasure of dancing with your wife."

It didn't take a look at James for her to know they were currently warring over whether he wanted to deny him most, or whether she wanted him to deny him most. He couldn't. She knew he couldn't. Beckett knew it, too, the little bastard.

"Of course, my lord," James held out a hand to take her glass from her.

Deciding it would probably be bad form to down the rest of the drink before she handed it to him, resisted the urge and smiled at Beckett once he took her free hand. Even such a mild touch made her skin crawl, and she could've sighed in relief when they took their places and he immediately let go. In her peripheral vision, she could've sworn that James finished her champagne for her once their backs were turned.

Much to her combined confusion and relief, Beckett did not speak to her throughout the entirety of their dance. Not to wind her up, not to make any further requests of her, not even to comment on the weather. He went through the steps with a look of boredom on his face, and when it was over he inclined his head and let her be. It was more painless than she ever could've dared to hope. The most reaction she got out of him was a slight smug smirk when she fumbled a step.

When she returned to James, though, finding him chatting with one of the men gathered, she didn't have much time to collect her thoughts because the people sort of…descended on her from there. Women who had barely spared her a glance (and if they had, it certainly hadn't been a kind one) were suddenly upon her like they'd never been anything less than the best of friends - complimenting her dress, her necklace, her hair, anything they could damn well think of, and asking for details about their wedding as if it had taken place at Buckingham Palace rather than at sea aboard a pirate vessel. Although she supposed Buckingham Palace mightn't exist yet. Did it? She'd have to ask James.

This strange phenomenon wasn't even limited to the women, either. Suddenly whatever men had not previously asked her to dance were dying to do so now, despite the fact that there were only a few songs left. It was confusing, it had her at a loss as to how to respond, and it was all utterly bereft of sincerity. It felt so empty and bloody soulless that she found herself missing their ire. And James didn't seem confused by any of it in the least, enduring the whole thing with his usual straight-faced sternness but absolutely no bemusement.

Sadly, there was no opportunity for Groves to translate this newest strange spate of Englishness to her.

Hattie had already retired when they got home that night, having listened to their insistence that they could see themselves to bed when they got in. Theo was glad for it, because it gave them a chance to talk without having to wait.

"What the hell was that all about at the end there?" She asked as she massacred the updo her hair had been forced into.

Her scalp ached as her hair tumbled down her back and she sighed quietly, massaging her head.

"That," James replied grimly as he stepped out of his shoes "Was a power play."

The necklace came off next, clattering to the vanity as she mirrored his action, wriggling her toes against the soothing cool wooden floorboards.

"What?"

"Those reluctant to welcome you into the fold did so after Beckett danced with you. You earned his approval, and so if they continue to resist giving their own, they are insubordinate to him."

"I got that part," she frowned "But how was it a power play? Shouldn't he have made me work for it a bit? Withhold it, even, so I feel the full wrath of what it's like to not be in his good graces?"

Reaching awkwardly behind herself, she reached up to the small of her back and felt for the ties of her dress. But she was tired, and her hair kept getting in the way, and when she did pull at one tie it only served to complicate the knot. James watched her fumble for a few moments with a tired, soft sort of amusement on his face before she finally gave a pretty petulant little groan, tilting her head back and feeling very sorry for herself.

"Help me escape this bloody thing, will you?" She complained.

He chuckled, coming up behind her and gently nudging her hands out of the way before doing the same with her hair.

"It's not so simple. Consider the difference in the reaction those gathered had in response to Governor Swann dancing with you in comparison to how they responded when Beckett did. The disparity was clear, and thus was the message. He is the power here now. All can see it."

Theo stood still as she felt him untie the dress, sighing in relief when the fabric finally loosened and stepping away so she could do the rest of the work of freeing herself of it. James returned to undressing himself, removing the wig to reveal his dark hair plastered to his head, thanks to how long and exerting the night had been.

"Amelia Simmonds didn't say a word to me," she pointed out.

"Yes, well, it appears her hatred of you outweighs her desire for Lord Beckett's favour - which is an impressive feat, admittedly."

"I actually respect that more than the bastards who pretended to like me when they thought it might benefit them," she snorted "At least she's a cow on her own terms."

It was difficult to tell whether the smirk he offered at that was in agreement with the sentiment, or just general amusement over how she chose to judge the character of the fine citizens of Port Royal.

"Speaking of," she hedged "What was all that with Gillette?"

And just like that, the smirk was gone.

"Put it out of your mind, it matters not," he shook his head.

"You were pretty bloody angry, James, so it looked like it mattered a great deal."

"No longer. The matter is settled - and I have no wish to repeat the sentiments he so foolishly saw fit to express. And he certainly won't repeat them again. I don't see how you might benefit from hearing them."

She saw his point, and she knew a pointless battle when she saw one. Sometimes.

"Thank you, though. For having my back."

"Your back?"

"For defending my honour," she clarified, a small smile rising to her lips.

His frown in return was a baffled one "Of course I did."

If she hadn't already been dangerously in love with him, the way he said that as if it was the most obvious thing in the world would've sealed the deal.

"What did Beckett wish to speak with you about in private?"

The restraint he showed in waiting until he was mostly undressed before he asked was admirable. Theo grunted, having made quick work of her corset by herself before continuing to strip down to her shift. It felt good to be rid of the weight of all of that clothing - like she was no longer being dragged down to the ground with every movement. She almost resented having to pick it all up off of the floor, folding it as best she could and then abandoning it atop a chest in the corner for Hattie to deal with come morning.

"Theodora?" James prompted when she did not answer.

"You're not going to like it," she warned.

"I wasn't under even the most fleeting impression that I might," he replied drily.

"He wants me to go and see Jack while you're all gone."

"You're joking."

"You'd think so, usually, wouldn't you? There's a precedent. But no. I told him you wouldn't like it."

"You did?"

"Don't sound so surprised, I'm very good at pretending to be proper when I want to be."

The noise he made in response suggested he didn't agree - but she did her best not to take offence.

"And what did he say in response to that?"

"That I could always just neglect to tell you - basically."

Only silence came in response to that, until she finally turned her attention away from her attempts to brush her hair into submission to look at him instead. His lips were set into a thin line and his nostrils flared as he all but tore his shirt off and discarded it atop her own leaning tower of clothing in the corner. He looked almost as unimpressed as he had when he'd told off Gillette earlier in the night.

"Did he, now?"

"That was the long and short of it. He worded it carefully enough to work some plausible deniability in there, though, should he be pulled up on it."

James' jaw twitched in response, his lips set in a thin line. She understood it, too - even in her own time it would've been questionable of Beckett to make this request and then suggest she keep it secret from James, but in this time? In this time it was a hell of an insult.

"I'm sure he did."

"Like I said. Little bastard."

"And what pressing matters does he wish for you to discuss in this strictly confidential meeting with Sparrow?"

"He didn't offer specific instructions on that count."

"No?" He frowned "None at all?"

Shrugging, she undid the ties at the collar of her shift, shrugged it down and off of her shoulders, before finally stepping out of it before looking at him coyly.

"That," he said ruefully "Will not serve you as a distraction."

"They say that passion fades in most marriages, but I never thought it would happen so quickly," she gave a mournful sigh.

Shaking out her hair, she turned and padded to the bed - and pretended she couldn't feel his gaze burning into her all the while. But as she climbed into the bed, she knew she'd had her fun and gave yet another sigh as she slid her legs under the covers and returned to the matter at hand.

"I think there are two games at once going on here. The first is simple - he wants to see if I tell you. Maybe it's a test to see how honest we are with each other, how easily we can be divided. Information like that could be handy at a later date, and he's a pragmatist."

"As well as a little bastard?"

"Mmm. Nuanced, that one. If I tell you, he knows we're loyal to each other - enough to be used against each other as leverage at some point or another, if need be. I don't, and he either has blackmail against me, or the sick pleasure of informing you at the opportune moment. Probably both, really."

James listened carefully, remaining where he stood in the middle of the room - albeit shirtless.

"And the second of these two lovely little games?"

"I'm less sure of that one, but I know it revolves around me n' Jack. He says it's to use me as an example. So Jack can see me as proof of the benefits of compliance and follow suit."

James snorted.

"Exactly. Blatant shite, really. Don't get me wrong, I think stirring discontent between us is a big part of it. Maybe hoping it gets us bickering among ourselves? I don't know. But I think he's curious to test my loyalty, too. See what it is I talk to Jack about if given free rein when it comes to seeing him. He's curious. Suspicious."

"I like it not," he grumbled, but was apparently done discussing the matter for the night as he turned his attention to divesting himself of his breeches.

"I'm an unknown element to him. He's trying to, well, know me."

"I'd much rather he did not."

"James Norrington, did you just make a dirty joke? I might just swoon."

"And thus the passion in our marriage is restored."

"Thank god - I was starting to worry."

He smirked "I wasn't."

A/N: In the Regency period, married couples weren't allowed to dance together at balls - but they could dance with others without that being an issue or a breach of etiquette. In fact, a recently married woman being asked to dance by different men was a show of welcoming her into the fold. I'm not sure if this rule stretched back to this time period because everything I can find on ballroom etiquette only stretches back to the Regency period, buuut if it did, it's a nice gesture on Groves' part. Either way it's a nice gesture on his part really - top lad.