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Rook saw Emmrich before he saw them.
It was a public ball, hence the fact that a few individuals who were not, strictly speaking, gentry had managed to gain access, and another side effect of its being a public ball was that the room was somewhat crowded.
Rook was used to seeing Emmrich in his every-day clothes – cream trousers, tan boots, a green tailcoat and a waistcoat of darker green, as often as not paired with a pair of reddish-brown gloves.
Tonight he was in finery, though not, as Rook began to notice, quite the finery of a gentleman. Not for Emmrich the breeches and stockings of a gentleman’s eveningwear. No, he wore trousers, and over them, black boots. In green and darkest blue and darker gloves he looked finer than a prince, at least to Rook’s eyes.
Both he and Johanna Hezenkoss were facing the other way, facing the dancers, talking of the ball – or at least, Emmrich was talking, Hezenkoss, sniping. Apparently they had been friends once, but Rook had heard that things had soured in recent years, though Emmrich still tried to persuade Hezenkoss that a reconciliation was possible.
As Rook approached, they could hear Hezenkoss hiss, “What did you even come here for, Volkarin? Your origins will not be forgotten by this crowd. You’re not young enough to interest them and not wealthy enough to be worth fawning over.”
“I am attempting to enjoy an evening of good society, Johanna,” replied Emmrich. He had known Hezenkoss long enough that he used her first name, though she did not use his.
“Wanted to preen, more like. Decrepit popinjay.”
Rook did not wait to hear Emmrich’s answer. They were circling back and around, to approach Emmrich from the front, and from a little distance so he could see them coming.
Rook came forward and made their bow to Emmrich and Hezenkoss, who returned it – Hezenkoss barely.
“Professor Volkarin, may I have the next dance?”
Emmrich had not expected it. He was surprised – no, stunned. Once he was again master of himself, he replied, “Yes, of course you may,” and as Rook had been the one to ask him to dance, it remained for Rook to take his hand and escort him to the section of floor where couples were dancing. They were both gloved as was proper, but it was the longest time they had ever touched.
With the two rows of couples lined up for the dance, Emmrich and Rook bowed to each other again, and the dance began.
Emmrich’s hand was placed upon Rook’s and they turned about, steady steps, in time to the violins. Their hands dropped; it was now time for them to circle one another. They turned away, walked behind and around another couple, then were facing one another again. They stepped alongside each other close enough for their shoulders to barely brush, then stepped back again, took each other’s hand to stand side by side, stepped forward two steps, back two steps, then walked around another couple again.
The steps of the dance turned back to the start of the cycle, Emmrich’s hand upon Rook’s.
“I am conscious of the kindness you are paying me, Mx Ingellvar,” he told them.
“Call it a kindness if you must – I will accept the virtue. But I find my true reasons are likely to be selfish; my own gratification, you see.”
They turned and turned again. Emmrich watched Rook with large hazel eyes, candlelight dancing on the silver strands of his hair.
“I am sure it was a kindness,” Emmrich continued. “You knew nobody else would ask me to dance, so you decided to ask me yourself.”
“Why shouldn’t I, if I wanted to dance with you?”
They had to part as the dance moved on, to walk around the other couple before they could be within talking distance once again.
“I know I am not young,” Emmrich said, “And not a gentleman, either. The former might be overlooked for the sake of a single dance, if you were desperate to dance, which I do not believe you were. The latter would be considered insupportable by nearly every other person in this room.”
Rook themself was barely gentry. “Did you not once say that education made the man? You are a gentleman in all the ways that matter.”
Forward and back, their shoulders brushed. Hand in hand, forward, forward again, back, back again.
“One does one’s best, even if it is not always enough.”
Rook was aware of how, for some, Emmrich’s excellent manners, equally excellent education, and flawless standards of dress would never be enough.
Butcher’s son. Cook’s son. Not gentry and therefore never a gentleman.
They were briefly parted by the dance to walk around other couples again.
“I maintain my professions of selfishness, you know,” said Rook, when the dance reunited them. “I have reasons enough to ask you to dance that have nothing to do with kindness. I am sure you cut one of the finest figures in the room.”
Emmrich could barely control his expression at Rook’s words, until he managed to reply, “I am gratified you think so.”
“I see also that I guessed correctly you were an excellent dancer. So, you see, that is selfishness again. I am afraid I do not come off at all well in my reasons for asking you to dance. But when else am I to see you, except accidentally in passing? Though I am sure by now I can claim an acquaintance with you, you never call on me, you know.”
“I would not wish to presume. I am not gentry, after all.”
“Such things mean little among true friends. Consider this an invitation to call on me.”
“I thank you. I’m afraid my own lodgings are… comparatively un-genteel. I could not repay your hospitality in equal kind.”
“If they are decorated according to your taste, I am sure I could only approve of them.”
“If you’re sure you would not find the furnishings distasteful, then of course you may call on me as well, when I am not teaching.”
The dance continued, the occasional press of Emmrich’s hand, the occasional brush of their shoulders. The music drew to an end, and they bowed to each other again, then separated. Silently, Emmrich told himself that he only felt warm because of the activity of the dancing.
Emmrich winced internally at the fact that he’d brought up his teaching. Speaking of his work at a gathering like this only highlighted that he was not gentry, though Rook had not reacted to the faux pas.
He ought to have complimented Rook during their dance. He had been so surprised at Rook’s application for his hand that he had barely known how to carry on the conversation. He hoped he had not seemed too stupid in his surprise.
His thoughts darted forward.
In the immediate future, Rook was not likely to dance with him again at this ball. One dance was sufficient between friends; two would be a sign of preference; three an excessive declaration of interest. Nobody danced with anyone else three times at a ball; it would be abominably rude.
But further in the future…
When he called on Rook (and he would call on Rook, especially since he had been invited and it would only be polite to call), and he left his card (as any member of polite society would do), Emmrich wondered if Rook would leave the card out on display with the cards of others who had visited them, so that any other visitor could see that Rook had been visited by Professor Emmrich Volkarin, who was not even a gentleman.
He had a feeling that they would.