The first of the music was a smooth plucking of the guitars on light strings in a steady three-beat rhythm then followed the gentle flow of the white piano. After the cellos joined in so did the choir of violins in their cries of joy at the event. Only one violin sang in a different rhythm, following its own course to provide the melody by which the couples would move to.
The musicians paused only for a moments, preparing for the next waltz. And it was in this moment that Atriane led Adelaide to the middle of the ballroom dance floor in a backwards walk. When they reached their destination, Atriane pulled her close to him with one hand solidly at her waist and the other positioned itself in her hand, shoulders as straight as hers and with his palm pressing warmly against hers. He kept a genuine grin on his face, his eyes laughing in joy. Dancing was a passion of his, aside from horse riding, fencing and other activities, and one that he like to pursue ardently. He learned early on in his gentleman's teachings that dancing was performed best when the music moved throughout the dancer. "Let the music move you," his father had told him. "That is how a true gentleman dances." This particular subject was one that he took to heart with great passion and made excellent progress so much that women fought to claim dances with him, rather than vice versa. Atriane locked eyes with Adelaide forcing the rest of the dancers out of his concentration and kept just the music and her. He minded the other couples on the floor as he twirled his wife around professionally and it was not too far into the dance when he noticed an unfeigned smile touch her lips. "You have a beautiful smile when it isn't fastened on your face," he commented rather casually and squeezed her a little at her waist.
He laughed a little and let the music flow through him, control his feet as he took the steps that were almost computed into his body. He executed each step exquisitely, with an elegant lightness that would have taken an ordinary person many years to master. He did not have to count the steps in his head, as many amateurs did, and was admittedly impressed when he noticed that Adelaide didn't either. "You are an excellent dancer, Adelaide Rathrane. I must say it's an honor to hold you in my arms." And before he knew it the song had ended and blended into a softer dance that allowed a little more freedom of expression than the standard stiff-armed waltz performed at weddings. Atriane did not stop in his movements as the first song led into the second and simply did as he did before, let the music flow through him and control his movements as he dipped Adelaide and swung her back up into his embrace with all the refinement of a lover. This melody was slower and more romantic than the previous song and suddenly, little did either know that the other couples had stopped dancing and had started to gawk at them with wide eyes filled with wonderment.
The guests on the dance floor had moved to the very edges to make room for the twirling and swooping forms of Adelaide and Atriane as they moved in unison with one another. His arm slid all the way around her waist and locked her to him as he dipped her again. He continued to keep his eyes sealed to her hears and it was unbeknownst to him the intensity by which he gazed into her blue eyes. His own magenta ones crackled with dark electricity and a fire burned behind them. Their faces were close now, close enough befitting a dance like the one he led her in. Atriane spun her once more and moved with the same intensity as the music as it sped up in emotion. The violin that led the melody of the previous song, screeched and sawed against the strings with such a fiery vigor it was almost frightening. But he felt that emotion soar through his passionate spirit as if he were flying atop Gaetano over a towering hedge and it was fear that was expressed on his face, but the intensity of the music. And when the music stopped suddenly, with the final cry of the lead violin, so did Atriane in the finishing movement and slowly pulled Adelaide to her feet from the final dip as a roar of applause escaped from the guests around them. A smile crept to his lips as his chest heaved up and down in an attempt to catch his breath. He smiled at the people around him thanked them and, with his arms still around her, guided Adelaide back to the table. "It seems—we have mesmerized—them with little dance." He laughed lightly and was about to help Adelaide into her chair when suddenly an all too familiar voice caught his attention: "Atriane Rathrane... I never did think that someone like you would ever marry."
Atriane stopped suddenly and his smiled faded as the name came into his mind to match the voice too. His face hardened, trying to suppress the flaring frustration and anger the eldest Champlane son always set blazing with his presence. Slowly he turned around and faced the viscount he hated more than anyone else on the face of the planet. "Well, if it isn't the Lord Aloysius Champlane. What are you doing here?"
Standing at an intimidating six foot three, Aloysius Champlane was an intimidating man with a contemptuous grin on his finely paled face that was covered in a finely trimmed blonde beard that trailed up his jaw line to his slicked back yellow hair. He was a man that held all of Atriane's negative qualities and none of his good ones. He held an open contempt for all nobles below his ranking and expressed a cold, well-concealed jealous courtesy to those above him. He was practical and cared to waste little time on those that did not benefit him immensely, treated his servants like the mud on his riding boots, and the women on his arm as lesser than he. It was for these reasons and more that Atriane despised the young viscount with all the hatred a man of twenty-six could muster. The viscount waved his hand nonchalantly at the guests that resumed their business of enjoying the reception as he answered coolly, "Well, apparently you didn't invite me to what was rumored to be your wedding. I heard some idle gossip from some worthless servant and decided to see if indeed the rumor was true. Hmm, it seems to be so.
"It is precisely as you've heard and as you've said. You were not invited to this wedding, so I suggest that you leave, Aloysius," Atriane retorted, his face hardening and his eyes becoming fierce.
Aloysius acted as if he didn't hear the comment and pursued into a conversation he knew would grate at Atriane's nerves. "I also heard that your wedding was done rather on the spot. An arranged one, if I'm not mistaken. And to some timid little thing, no less. I must express my deepest pity for you. I would have thought your father would know better." His voice was filled with the utmost mockery and hauteur befit of someone of his character.
Atriane sniffed in disdain. "I don't need your pity. Now leave." But even as the anger that flared in the face of his words flared, Atriane couldn't help but feel a little grim at the thought of his father going behind his back once again. But the emotion quickly faded and was replaced with burning fury. Though it did not show in is face, the comment on Adelaide annoyed him, and a little flame of rage ignited in his eyes. His stare hardened and said, "You will not insult me or my wife. I need neither your pity nor your presence. You need not my time nor to know my wife. I trust that you will leave with your passel of idiots trailing behind you." He waved his hand casually toward Aloysius' entourage that stood behind him, smiling stupidly. "Now!"
The expression on the viscount's face rapidly changed to a stern visage. "That is not how you speak to your superior, Rathrane."
Atriane's right fist gripped the golden hilt of the rapier at his side, his knuckles turning white and trembling with impotent rage. He gritted his teeth, muscles bunching at the sides of his jaw, and spoke with a forced smile, "I ask you to please depart immediately, sir. You were not invited and, from one gentleman to another, I kindly ask you to leave—milord." The last word was forced as his faked smile faded and was replaced by a hardened grimace.
"Now, was that so difficult, Rathrane." Aloysius sneered at him then at Adelaide, his eyes wandering. After his head swooped around the room he sniffed once in an annoying fashion and said, "Well, I've been here but three minutes and already this party bores me. I think I'll take my leave now. Farewell, Rathrane." He bowed mockingly toward Atriane then to Adelaide, "Milady." With that he departed with his entourage trailing behind him as Atriane predicted.
When their forms left from sight, Atriane took his seat, downing the glass of champagne that had been set before him and said in a low, dangerous voice, "I hate that man."
The rest of the reception went on pleasantly for the most part, except for that raw incident. But as the evening wore on and the guests began to tire, Atriane had forgotten all about it as he enjoyed himself further. Before he knew it the guests began to depart one by one and the servants began to clean up. Atriane kissed Belinda on the cheek before helping her into the carriage and watching it roll out of the driveway before he retreated back to Adelaide's side. His body ached only slightly from the continuous sitting and standing and talking but thankfully the wolf within him gave him renewed energy and extended his durability limit. He put his arm around her and guided her inside as he said, "How did you like the reception?"
[Sorry, I kind of sped things up there. I didn't want to move it too far ahead though so I figured the end of the reception was good place to end the scene.]
