Dearest Diary,
I do believe my mother and sister have gone quite insane, which I credit to our current environment. I pray that if I should ever suffer a similar ailment, rereading this entry will strike some sense into me. If that fails, I haven't the faintest idea how our family will continue to function.
"When is the wedding?"
Katniss stopped toying with the bouquet to look at her sister. "Whose?" Had they been invited to any weddings? Katniss couldn't think of any, but she rarely bothered to keep track of the family's social calendar. In any case, it was well within the realm of possibility that a couple may have invited Prim and Mother without her. She ought to be offended at the number of times someone had been surprised to learn Prim had an older sister, but if she managed to escape a wedding because of it, Katniss could happily forgive those missteps.
"Yours and Mister Mellark's." Prim's tone suggested that should have been obvious.
"I think you know the answer to that question." Did she think that Katniss' entire view on marriage had changed after one dance?
"I would wager there are six weeks until the proposal and a wedding by the end of the season." Though her own bed was only a few feet away, Prim settled onto Katniss', wrinkling the blankets underneath.
"Well then, I suppose it's fortunate you don't have any money to gamble." When Father was still alive, he had often said that Prim would become more and more like their mother as she matured. Katniss imagined this had been intended as a comfort, that the naughty twin-braided child who kicked at her shins when Mother wasn't looking would grow to be as calm and stately as their mother. How naïve she had been to think that the gracious, mature Prim would annoy her any less. "In any case, I'm sure the same could be said for you and Lord Hawthorne."
"I don't think so."
That, she hadn't expected. "Oh?"
"No, he's too serious for me."
"Seriousness isn't necessarily a bad quality to have." Katniss would certainly prefer that to some man who spent his time drinking and gambling both his fortune and Prim's security away.
"True." Her sister frowned. "But I would like to have at least some fun between now and dying."
Morbid, and Katniss rather doubted that Lord Hawthorne would entirely quell Prim's fun, but she didn't care to argue the basic premise. She turned her attention back to the tulips. On her mother's advice, Katniss had taken them up to her and Prim's shared bedroom so that she could enjoy them without having to suffer the stink of roses in the drawing room. She had been somewhat less than careful as she took them upstairs, and though Katniss tried to fix the gaps that had developed between the blooms, she couldn't hide them entirely.
Prim allowed her to work in silence for only a moment. "I'm not going to let you get away with that, you know. You don't get to change the subject that easily."
"Are you certain?" Katniss did not bother to look up from her task, futile as her efforts might be. "I thought it was working rather well for a while there."
"And trying to turn this into an argument isn't going to work either. Come along, tell me about him. What's he like?" Pity Peeta had paid out for such nice flowers. Katniss would have killed for an excuse to pick through the tulips for browned petals, anything to avoid Prim's eyes. "Well?" her sister pressed.
Katniss sighed. "I spent one dance -"
"Two dances," Prim corrected. "And that's just what I saw. I'm not so sure there weren't more."
"Very well then, I danced a few dances with him, during which time he neither professed some great love for me nor offered up his entire life story. So, if that's what you're looking for, I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed."
The stubbornness of Everdeen women had been bemoaned by generations of Everdeen men, but until recently, Katniss hadn't realized just how much of a bother it could be. "But you did talk to him. Surely you learned something of the man? I've heard the rumors of course, everybody has, but – "
This time, it was Katniss' turn to interrupt. "What rumors?"
"Oh, you haven't heard?" A sly grin spread across Prim's pretty features. "Very interesting. Maybe, if you tell me a little more about Mister Mellark, I might have something to share."
"Primrose…" she warned, her voice low and threatening, but Prim's resolve did not waver. Fine, then. She had been dodging the same question since this morning, and now the sunset bathed their cramped room in orange light. The greatest generals were those who knew when to surrender. "He's rather nice and an excellent dancer."
"And?"
Katniss shook her head. "I really don't know much beyond that. Come on, out with it."
"Well, according to the rumors, he used to be quite the rake."
"Forgive me if I don't find that comforting."
Prim scowled at her. "Do you want to hear the rest or not?" Not so long ago, her sister would not have dared to scold her. How times had changed. Prim waited until she was satisfied Katniss would not interrupt. "As I was saying, he was an absolute rake until last year. Everyone says the opera last year was an incredible spectacle. I think they meant musically, of course, but there was a gorgeous soprano with the company." Katniss' stomach gave an unpleasant twist at those words. "I don't remember what her name was – I'm actually not sure if anyone mentioned it. Anyways, at first, everyone assumed it was just a dalliance between her and Mister Mellark, but he was smitten. I hear he was planning to propose."
"What happened?"
Her sister shrugged. "No one quite knows, but she left for the Continent the day her contract ended. He was heartbroken."
"Oh dear. That's no good." Katniss had never met the woman, didn't even know her name for Christ's sake, and knew nothing of her reasons for leaving. She disliked the soprano all the same.
But Prim wasn't finished. "He hasn't been interested in anyone since she left is what I've heard."
"You certainly seem to be hearing a lot. Gossiping isn't an attractive pastime."
"And what are you doing right now?" Prim countered.
"I don't intend to make a habit of it." Their room had grown dark as the sun slipped out of view. Katniss lit the small lamp that sat on the nightstand between their beds. "Don't you have something better to do than talk about some man you've never met?"
"Only if you have something better to do than think about him."
She did not go looking for him. No, Katniss had far better things to do than wander through the throngs of partygoers to search for a man that might not even have attended. These better things included sitting with her mother as she and three other women whose names Katniss hadn't caught gossiped. Perhaps she should commit some time to learning the names of the less moral members of the ton. Their talk would surely be more interesting if she could remember if the Miss Brambles who had tempted the Duke of Wellingston away from his wife was the same Miss Something-or-Another whose rather similar exploits with another married man had been the topic of conversation at previous parties.
"- and there were the blue satin slippers – hers, mind you – sitting outside his study! Can you imagine?" Oh yes, she remembered the blue slippers, so it must be the same story. Pity, that.
Katniss turned her attention to the mass of people milling about the ballroom. She had attended enough of these events over these past few weeks that many of the faces were familiar, even if she remembered them more for odd features or habits than anything else. There was the older gentleman who needed spectacles but refused them and therefore squinted down his nose at everyone from an uncomfortable angle. Tonight, he stood next to Lady Leighaday, a woman who looked so perfectly average that Katniss doubted she would remember her at all if not for her rather unfortunate name. Not two feet away, that lecherous dark-haired man in his early forties watched the dancers, staring intently as though following one couple in particular. His title must have been very impressive indeed if the ton allowed him to get away with that sort of behavior.
Curious, she followed his gaze to see Peeta dancing with a woman in a dress so golden it could have been woven from sunbeams. With wide blue eyes that seemed even larger against her small features and blonde hair even lighter than Prim's, she was pretty in an innocent, childlike way. She smiled as they danced, laughing at something he said, just as Katniss had only three days prior. Her stomach went sour.
"They're cousins." Mother nodded towards Peeta and his partner. "Miss Delly Cartwright is the daughter of the late earl's sister. You met both her and her mother last week."
Peeta must have felt her eyes on him, for he turned and gave her a lopsided grin that really shouldn't have been as attractive as it was. "Did I?" Katniss hoped her voice did not betray her distraction.
"Trust me." Eileen Everdeen patted her daughter's hand. "Now, off with you. My conversations aren't nearly as much fun when there are innocent ears listening in."
She wanted to protest, but Peeta appeared before them as though out of thin air. "Good evening, Lady Everdeen, Miss Everdeen."
Her mother nodded towards him and turned on her most charming smile. "Mister Mellark. How nice to see you again." Again? When had Peeta met her mother? And more generally, just how blind had Katniss been to her family's affairs?
"You as well. I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but may I please borrow your daughter for a dance?"
"Yes," Katniss agreed. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her in the waltz. "I can make decisions for myself, you know," she added once she was out of earshot of her mother and her friends. Not that it would matter, as she was certain they had returned to a more lurid version of their original conversation immediately, but it felt like good manners.
"I am." His hand settled on her waist, the weight now equally familiar and thrilling, and they began to dance.
"Then I would appreciate it if you were to address your requests to me in the future." She fell into the rhythm of the music easily under his guidance. Though Katniss would consider her usual dancing somewhat less graceful than the average bull, her movements tonight felt natural, almost liquid in how they flowed from one to the next. She could see how people enjoyed this.
"Miss Everdeen, are you assuming that I'll be asking you to dance again?" Peeta's eyebrows nearly disappeared beneath his hairline in feigned shock.
She shook her head. "I'm not sure I'll want to after this."
"Don't say that. You might not admit it, but you're having a much better time out here with me than you were ignoring your mother and her friends earlier."
"Perhaps." She refused to give him the satisfaction of being right.
"On that, I have you cornered. Unlike last time, I didn't have to bribe a dance out of you with information."
"Or perhaps you overpaid for the first dance when I would have given you one for free."
He chuckled. When he laughed, Peeta's eyes turned the most stunning shade of blue she'd ever seen. Katniss pushed that observation aside before she could begin to analyze it too deeply. "Miss Everdeen, I do believe you're the most disagreeable woman I have ever met."
"No, I'm not."
His full-bellied laugh caused a few neighboring partygoers to look over at them, but Peeta hardly seemed to notice. "Are you determined to prove me wrong, or are you doing your best to show me right?"
"Whichever you find most disagreeable," she said in the sweetest voice she could summon.
"I'm not sure what I'm going to do with - Watch out!" Someone made a strangled noise behind her, and Peeta stepped back, pulling her along with enough force that Katniss found herself pressed against his chest. While not an unpleasant position, she probably should right herself before anybody noticed. The ton's loosest tongues could create awful talk from even the most innocent mistakes. But he was warm, and from here she could smell the faintest traces of pipe smoke and horses, both of which were scents she didn't much care for alone, but together…
Thankfully, Peeta had more sense than she did. He moved away as quickly as he'd pressed them together. "I apologize, Lady Cohen."
The woman he addressed was tiny, easily six inches shorter than Katniss, and no younger than eighty. "I apologize as well," Katniss added, relatively certain she'd come within a half-step of trampling the poor woman. Lady Cohen's back had been hunched by age, and she rested much of her weight on a smooth wooden cane capped with ivory. Many must confuse her physical delicacy with frailty, but her eyes were sharp, and Katniss found herself bracing for words sharper still.
But Lady Cohen's words, though garbled, held no malice. Slowly, Katniss' shoulders relaxed as she tried to puzzle out the other woman's meaning. A few words were simple enough to pick out. You, good, bother, me, young, fun. She reached up to pat Peeta's shoulder, flashed Katniss a quick smile, and disappeared into the crowd.
Peeta squeezed her hand, which Katniss hadn't realized he was holding. "Where were we?" he asked. "Something about you being difficult and me being a fool, if I'm not mistaken?"
"That sounds right." She focused on falling back into step with him. "What did she say?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but I believe the basic message was that we shouldn't allow her to get in the way of our dancing –" his lips twitched " – even if that does mean you step on her dress occasionally."
"Oh dear." She craned her neck back, searching for Lady Cohen in the crowd. "Is everything all right? Do you think she needs any help?"
"If Mags was upset or needed anything, she would let you know. Apoplexy isn't enough to have changed that." Peeta shook his head. "In any case, I think you've proven your point."
"Which one?"
"That I'm a fool."
"Was there ever any doubt?" Katniss teased.
Peeta frowned down at her. "I don't have to tell you, you know."
"What?"
He nodded into the crowd. "About Mister Seneca Crane." She followed his gesture to see Prim dancing with a tall, dark-haired gentleman. Did the girl ever bother with any other sort? Their feet barely seemed to touch the ground, so graceful were they together, and he watched Prim attentively as they danced, a perfectly charming smile on his face. Something about him sent a chill through her. She had left him with Prim unsupervised. True, Katniss had no reason to believe they had left the ballroom, and Mother was surely keeping an eye on them just as she was Katniss and Peeta, but guilt gnawed at her all the same. Peeta must have noticed, for he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I don't know much, but I can ask around at my club tomorrow."
"Please do," she whispered.
A/N: Two chapters done, ten-(ish, that's what the outline says, but I'm terrible at estimating these things) to go! I'm sorry for the long wait. Thanks for your patience!