2. The Ball

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Chapter Two:

The Ball

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Her feet were already close to being covered with blisters but she had yet to even enter the ballroom, let alone dance in the little orange death traps.

Harriet was standing outside the doors of the ballroom, bored and nervous all at once. While part of her was dreading the whole affair, another part of her was a tiny bit nervous, but not because she wanted it to go well. Oh no, she wanted it to go badly, and that's what made her nervous. If her sister found out that Harriet had somehow caused the ball to not go to plan, Harriet could kiss her armor and training sessions goodbye.

But then again, Harriet thought, if she found a husband who looked down on women sword-fighting she'd have to kiss them goodbye anyway. Not that she thought her sister would make her marry someone she hated or didn't even love.

Standing outside the doors of the ballroom, Harriet listened to the sounds of the people chattering and the music playing inside. She was waiting for the sound of her brother-in-law to introduce her, but knowing him, he had got to talking and gotten distracted. She let out a frustrated sigh. Would she better off just going into the ballroom without the whole introduction? Clara would probably kill her, but her plan would be well under way.

She moved forwards and knocked purposefully on the doors, signaling to the doormen on the other side to open up the door. A split second passed before the doors opened gracefully, revealing the ballroom to Harriet and Harriet to the entire ballroom of people.

Every single face in the ballroom was turned up to look at her, and from her place at the top of the stairs Harriet could see where her brown-haired brother-in-law, Frederick, was smiling at her sheepishly. Her sister, on the other hand, had her hands on her hips, and looked incredibly peeved.

Harriet swallowed, and then proceeded to begin her plan. Looking around the ballroom, she made eye contact with as many people as she could and then proceeded roll her eyes and make her way down the stairs. She had honestly contemplated doing something like passing gas or belching loudly, but she figured bad manners would be bad enough. She didn't want to cause her sister to have a heart-attack.

Making her way down the stairs, she made sure to slouch unattractively and walk with her feet making as much noise as they could, which in the quiet and stunned ballroom sounded akin to thunder. Harriet had never been so glad that the only opinions she cared about were those of her family and friends, and thankfully, the majority of the ballroom was filled with just the people from the court.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs a small group of the only suitors brave enough, or desperate enough, to want to dance with her, were waiting for her. As she came up to the first one, he cleared his throat, his stubble covered face bulging slightly as he moved his beady eyes over the sight of her figure. Harriet had never wished for her sword more, or perhaps the opportunity to reprimand him or take him down a peg or two.

"Lady Harriet, you look simply lovely tonight, would you-"

"No," Harriet answered shortly, causing the man to flush.

"I didn't even finish talking!" He exclaimed indignantly, his squeaky voice reaching an almost ear-splitting decibel.

"I don't dance with leering liars," she commented coldly, giving him her best glare. She knew for a fact that her orange dress did not look very good on her, so she couldn't help but snap at him.

Harriet watched as he gulped, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that weren't there. Suddenly, the musicians began to play again, and when Harriet glanced over to the musicians she saw her sister there with them. Maybe she hoped the music would mask the sound of Harriet's words from being heard by most of the people gathered.

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