#wwtg22

cora, if she was being honest, wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing here. 

sure, georgia had said it would be fun, but cora was downright miserable. she had taken the invitation under the quote-unquote “friendly” pressure of her elder brother, but she barely knew a soul here. 

she wished she had been born with magic. she wished her parents hadn’t hid her. 

no. shove it down, cora. you can’t be a bother, you can’t let people know that you’re unhappy. 

no matter how sad you are. 

no. forget that, cora. she’s standing in the corner of a room, looking quite despondent, and once again not knowing a soul. 

she knows lady gray, of course, and georgia, but they’re different. she doesn’t know anyone who would deign to speak to her, some squib who doesn’t understand the things they joke about, the people they know. lord, she’s barely seventeen! 

oh, there goes lady gray now, but before cora can reach out and ask her for introductions she’s been whisked away without a second glance. 

no one has ever really spared a second glance. 

but nevermind that. she needs to make friends, she needs to make connections, she needs to find a husband-

a traitorous part of her wants to run. wants to run from these people who wouldn’t care, who would be glad that she’s gone. 

a man approaches and she shrinks away, just for a moment, before straightening and dusting herself off. merlin, she’s a disaster. no wonder no one has bothered to speak to her, to look twice. 

the man looks, and keeps looking. drinking in every aspect of her like she’s a prize, like she’s something in a shop window, and cora feels as if she’s about to vomit. 

the man leers, and steps closer, and suddenly she’s pressed against a wall and there’s nowhere to run and she’s so stupid because she should be honored, she shouldn’t feel like this. at least someone noticed her. at least someone thinks she’s worth looking at. 

he gets closer, and cora flinches again, bracing herself for whatever’s to come, but then-

“did no one ever teach you manners? leave the lady alone.”

cora looks up, into the face of her savior, and he’s lovely to look at. perhaps that’s not a normal reaction, she really can’t be sure, but it’s what flits through her mind. 

she recognizes him, then. an old friend of georgia’s. the prince henry, next duke of alderly, and he’s looking at her with genuine concern. 

“Malcolm,” he said as he approached. “Why do you look like an overgrown, lost child?”

“I need your help,” Malcolm told him. He really, really needed help.

“Of course you do,” Elian said. “Wait, with what? I’m not going to ask Primrose to dance with you on your behalf.”

“No, I can’t ask her to dance at all, because I’m a terrible dancer!” he explained, rather too frantically to his own taste. This was ridiculous.

“You’re an earl? How have you survived up to this point?”

“By being unapproachable and generally unpleasant to be around.”

Elian let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, come with me.”

“Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

~

Malcolm and Elian snuck into one of the empty rooms on the second floor. It was quite a bit smaller than the ballroom but still sizable.

“This will do,” said Elian appraisingly. “Now, pretend I’m Primrose.”

Malcolm gaped at him. “You’re… I’m not sure I can do that.”

Elian rolled his eyes with a lot of drama. “Do you want my help or not?”

“Fine, fine, alright,” Malcolm relented. “Lady Gray, will you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

Elian, being the little shit that he was, put on his worst Prim-imitation. “Oh, I would love to!”

“She doesn’t sound like that,” Malcolm said grumpily.

“Play along now, Burke.”

Malcolm gave up, extended a hand and Elian took it.

“Do you like my dress?” asked Elian, batting his eyelashes comically, still continuing his terrible Primrose-impression. “I had it specially made for this occasion.”

“Elian—,” Malcolm started firmly.

“Do you think it matches my eyes?” Elian continued.

“Yes,” Malcolm muttered in his most passive-aggressive tone. “It’s lovely.”

“Now, remember, I’m the girl, so you’re supposed to lead.”

“I know how it works, theoretically,” Malcolm defended himself. “It’s just that my feet don’t seem to do what I tell them to do.”

“It’s because you’re too tall for a human-being.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be pretending to be Primrose?”

Elian snickered. “I have no idea what you two talk about when you’re alone, the weather? The consistency of pastries? Or wait, is that too titillating?”

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Of course I am,” said Elian. “Here, try being a little less stiff, you’re moving like a scarecrow.”

Malcolm tried and stepped on Elian’s toe. “Sorry.”

“I’m sturdy, but you might want to try avoiding that with Prim, she’s a bit more delicate than me.”

“Ha, ha,” was all Malcolm said. He was beginning to think this was not going to be helpful at all. They danced for a while longer, mostly with Elian leading, because Malcolm was truly hopeless. Eventually, Elian took a step back and said: “My deepest apologies, but I don’t think even I can help you.”

“Am I really that bad?”

“Yes, but I have another idea.”

“What is it?”

“Just tell Prim that you’re a terrible dancer and let her handle the rest.”

“I can’t very well do that!”

“Yes, you can,” Elian insisted. “Honesty is the best policy!”

“Says you.”

Elian shrugged. “The point is, you are friends, you can just tell her.”

“This is different.”

“Then just don’t ask her and sulk in the corner all evening, watching her dance with all the other eligible bachelors who are not unapproachable and unpleasant to be around,” Elian said, helpfully.

“You’re no help at all.”

“We best head back, I don’t want to start any scandalous rumours.”

“Don’t you have at least five of those circulating about you at any given time, anyway?” asked Malcolm.

“A lady never tells,” Elian said and headed out.

“I hate you.”

“I know!”

Malcolm followed him down the hall, feeling not at all better about his fortunes.

~

Malcolm grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Elian had already gone off to somewhere, probably to find Henry. He hadn’t been this nervous since giving his first speech as earl of Harrendale. Truth be told, this was probably worse. Not because it was more formal, because really, it wasn’t. The room was filled with people he knew from school, and it wasn’t as if Primrose and he hadn’t danced before, but it was very different to share a dance at a school event than this. He wanted to make an impression. It was perfectly possible, in fact, that Primrose knew he was a terrible dancer but had been too polite to say. He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or worse. He took a sip of the champagne and placed it on a table. The night was not getting any younger.

~

He found Prim talking with some of her friends. She looked beautiful, but then again, she always looked beautiful. He pretended to be extremely interested in a landscape painting of Winbournshire when he noticed Cecilia Balinor, one of the ladies Prim was talking to glance his way suspiciously. Merlin, why was he being so fussy about this? He mildly regretted leaving his champagne behind but couldn’t go back for it now. He straightened his back and headed toward the ladies.

“Evening, ladies,” he said as he reached them.

“My lord,” said Primrose. “Have you enjoyed the evening so far?”

“Yes, Winbourne is quite lovely this time of year,” replied Malcolm. “Or any time of year, I imagine.”

“It is,” said Primrose. “You should see the village in spring, when the first leaves come out.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Perhaps it can be arranged,” Primrose said with a smile.

Malcolm cleared his throat. “Lady Gray,” he started. He really was so incredibly bad at this. “Would you do me the honour of sharing the next dance with me?”

Primrose, to his relief, looked delighted. “Yes, I’d love to,” she said, but not in the exaggerated tone Elian had used. Still, he had to give it to the man that he knew Primrose quite well, even if he was unable to take anything seriously.

~

Malcolm and Primrose left her friends to head towards the dance floor.

“I have a confession to make,” said Malcolm.

Primrose looked at him in surprise. “Oh?”

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

She let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, I know, Malcolm.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“And I don’t mind,” Primrose continued. “I’d still rather dance with you than anyone else here.”

That made Malcolm blush. Primrose held his arm tighter.