You Never Gave Me a Reason

Disclaimer: I don't own Revenge or its characters.

4) Distractedly Dancing with Another Date

She had made the claim of a migraine earlier that evening - practically falling into her chair, forehead burning in summer heat - and after three cups of coffee and a slight overdose on Advil, Conrad asked her to stay in for the night. When she relented sans argument, he was certain that she wasn't well enough to dance around and engage in endless conversation without running the risk of passing out. In this knowledge, he prepared to ring in the annual ball alone for the first time in all its years, and made arrangements for the Manor to remain empty so as to remove any noise that might interrupt her resting. So far that evening, she had actually managed to stay away, but all in all, she was Victoria Grayson, and she did not take orders.

For a woman who had been flushed and practically unconscious on the couch mere hours before, she was certainly breathtakingly beautiful as she stood in the doorway in the dark red dress she had been so looking forward to wearing and he to seeing her wear. Conrad wasn't the only man to notice her loveliness, of course, as the room seemed to bend toward her with every step into the ballroom; he was, however, the first man to take a step in her direction, and glad to be so, too. He refused to miss the first dance with his wife - especially not as gorgeous as she was that day.

So he walked toward her, moving around the various couples as they glided through the room. He hoped to catch her attention before she began her rounds - greeting every guest, drinking all the alcohol - in time to, if she truly was feeling better, steal her for the longest moment he could manage; or if she was still ill, to convince her to return to bed. Whether she would succumb to either of these ideas was yet to be determined, but he was willing to take his chances.

He smiled as he watched her from a few feet away, working his way through a fog of men as they clouded around her like moths to a flame. Her eyes found his, and her face lit up; likely acting up for spectators, but he didn't care, simply enjoying her beautiful beam. With a few more men out of the way, he was in front of her, and he could fully see the brightness in her eyes. "Victoria," he breathed.

She nodded at him, remaining in her relaxed state of pleasure. "You seem surprised," she remarked playfully, allowing him to take her hand, though with a raised eyebrow. "I hope I haven't ruined the night for some young lady somewhere."

Conrad let the comment roll off his shoulders and brought her hand up to his chest. "You look lovely, dear," he stated, kissing her hand while his eyes remained on her. Her arm stiffened, but she didn't tug her hand away, giving him hope to offer her a dance. "Would you do me the honor-"

"Victoria..." a voice from their left cut his request short, pulling Victoria's gaze from him and toward another man. Conrad didn't recognize him, but she did, apparently. "It has been far too long since I laid eyes on you, love," he announced admonishingly.

Conrad's jaw stiffened, already disliking the man.

But his wife was clearly less guarded when it came to the stranger, as she allowed him to take her other hand without wavering. "George," she greeted him, grin widening. "Where on earth have you been hiding these days?"

"George" now kissed her hand in a similar manner, only receiving a more delighted reaction. Conrad, dejected, released her other hand and glanced between the two as they spoke. "I've been traveling," he explained, enticing her inborn sense of wonder. "I must tell you all about it."

"Yes," she agreed, nodding. "Perhaps over lunch sometime."

"Why not now?" he asked, eyes shifting between Conrad and his wife. Turning to make eye contact with the other man, George added, "I don't mean to interrupt, of course."

Conrad swallowed the urge to kick the man out, and instead felt his pride rising up in his throat. If Victoria was so happy to see George, then who was he, her husband, to interrupt their magical evening? "Please," he said falsely with a smile. "I'm sure you'd make her night."

Victoria took her eyes off George long enough to send her husband a grateful grin, but this was all she could offer before she was swept away by her new ballroom partner. No sooner had he taken both her hands than had he begun to spin her around the room - Conrad, left with nothing to do, stood by and made idle conversation with surrounding company, while George led his former ballerina across the floor. Despite himself, he had to smile at her radiance; she never seemed happier than when she danced, seemingly walking on air.

Later, as one dance ended and another began, Victoria and her stranger were still sharing the floor, and Conrad was walking to the bar until he was intercepted. A young lady - blonde, slightly over five-foot - stepped in front of him with a smile on her face. She introduced herself as an ambitious businesswoman and new investor in Grayson Global, by the name of Angelica, and offered to buy him a drink. He declined politely, but when she remarked that she loved to waltz, he glanced at his wife discreetly; saw her having the time of her life with George, and decided to have a dance of his own with Angelica.

So they took to the floor, hand in hand, and he tried to ignore how cold her touch was. He led her into the dance, a smile on his face, and when she attempted at first to lead, he remained gracious and began again. On the inside, he was dying to dance with a more suitable partner.

On the outside, however, he and his blonde appeared to be enjoying themselves in their awkward waltz, and this caught the corner of Victoria's eye as she floated around the room. This surprising sight distracted her from the less-and-less-interesting tales of Europe as they fell out of George's mouth at an impressive rate, and she found her eyes constantly wandering over his shoulder, wondering what her husband was doing with another woman in the middle of their ball. Inwardly, she wanted to exchange partners, but for the sake of her friendly history with George and her own pride, she waited until the end of the waltz to ask him for a drink. She let out a sigh of relief as he took to the bar; her headache was beginning to resurface after two dances with his thumping steps practically nailing her to the marble floor when she was trying desperately to fly...

"Victoria?"

Hearing the voice from behind, she turned around quickly, not expecting to see Conrad so easily detached from his partner. She blinked at him, eyebrows raised. "Conrad. I'm glad to see you're having a good time."

He glanced backward at Angelica, whom he had sent to the bar for that drink. A good time, he echoed sarcastically as he turned back to his wife. "One could say that."

Victoria hummed in reply, awkwardly shifting her eyes as she waited for her partner to return. "I must have been a stressful partner," she noted, eyes on the bar. "He seemed eager for a drink."

Conrad chuckled, somewhat pleased that she was having as terrible a time as he. "Would you like to dance?" he asked finally, growing tired of beating around the bush. Although he knew this would likely blow up in his face, he had no choice but to throw his hat in the ring.

She seemed surprised at his question, but she didn't scowl or turn him down. Straight-faced, with a contented sigh, she muttered, "I thought you'd never ask."

With that, she extended her hand, easier to attain than Conrad had ever remembered. He had to take a moment to register this unexpected turn of events before accepting her hand and pulling her in cautiously.

They didn't talk as they eased into the steps, but his mind was alive all the while. It first came to attention how much warmer and softer her hands were, a sharp contrast to Angelica's. He was surprised at how well she fit in his arms, body absent of sharp edges and awkward bones. She didn't feel frail in his grasp - she was strong, but gentle, high heels clicking lightly against the floor with the quiet beat of the music.

At first, he was self-conscious as he guided her across the floor, trying to hold up to her dancing experience. He felt the pressure of dark and deep eyes blinking up at him, threatening to pull him in where he wasn't welcome. After managing to survive through the first minute or so without completely falling apart around her, he felt her relax in his arms. Her eyes fell closed as she lost herself in the music; he had seen her do this a few times before, and every time, it was breathtaking. Gravity began to lose control over her, and she seemed lighter than air as she glided through the turns. She was in outer space, and she was taking him with her upon every step.

Victoria was relieved to feel familiar arms around her, dancing with a partner who had a freer spirit; she had to wonder why she hadn't accepted his offer in the first place. After all, he seemed to be the only one who knew just how to hold her: gently, freely, but firmly. He knew how to lead her with carrying her or losing her - how to keep her in the atmosphere without pinning her to the floor. He understood her like no other man did, and that was indispensable in her life, whether she knew it or not.

Without a word spoken between the two, they carried on, her head resting on his shoulder and his eyes on her the entire time; dancing into the night for three or four more songs before parting ways to engage with their company. The connection seemed to have had the same effect on both Conrad and Victoria, as he walked around with a dumb grin on his face and she managed through the rest of the endless night without any resurgence of head pain.

They didn't talk about any of those moments; not ever, really. Still, it did affect the way they looked at each other the next day, and that was a miracle to work on Victoria. Rarely did she change her opinion on anyone, but he was beginning to make her question things.

Happy Easter!

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