Chapter Twelve – A Royal Conundrum

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The morning sun streamed through the grand windows of the dining hall, casting a warm glow over the polished mahogany table. The Duke, Ethan, and Amelia sat together, engaged in light conversation as they enjoyed their breakfast. They allhad grown closer, considerably so. 

Alistair cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "I have an announcement to make," he began, his tone serious.

Amelia and Ethan exchanged curious glances, waiting for him to continue.

"We have been invited to a ball at the neighboring estate," Alistair announced, his eyes flickering to Amelia. "All three of us."

Amelia's heart skipped a beat. Balls were a realm of high society that she knew little about, filled with intricate dances, elaborate attire, and strict etiquette. How was she supposed to navigate such a world when she barely knew the difference between a curtsy and a bow?

But she couldn't let her fear show. Instead, she plastered on a smile, trying to appear enthusiastic. "That sounds lovely," she said, though her voice betrayed a hint of nerves.

Alistair's gaze softened, and he reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "I thought you might enjoy it," he said quietly.

Enjoy it? How could she enjoy something she knew so little about? And whats whith the hand touch? But she couldn't admit her ignorance, not when the Duke was being so kind. Instead, she nodded, forcing herself to look excited.

As they finished their meal, Amelia's mind raced with worry. How was she going to survive the ball without making a fool of herself? She needed to learn the intricacies of courtly behavior, and fast.

An idea began to form in her mind. Ethan! He had been receiving lessons in etiquette for months now, surely he would be able to teach her a thing or two. But she couldn't let him know that she needed his help. It would be too embarrassing, too revealing.

Instead, she would have to find a way to observe his lessons without him knowing. It was a risky plan, but it was the only option she had.

Later that day, as Ethan disappeared into the drawing room for his etiquette lesson, Amelia lingered nearby, feigning interest in a nearby tapestry. From her vantage point, she could hear the soft murmur of voices as Ethan and his tutor began their session.

She edged closer, careful to keep out of sight. Peering around the doorway, she watched as Ethan stood stiffly in the center of the room, his posture rigid as he practiced his bows and curtsies.

Amelia observed his every move, committing them to memory. She noted the way he held himself, the precise angle of his head, the graceful sweep of his arm. It was like watching a well-rehearsed dance, each step executed with flawless precision.

As the lesson continued, Amelia found herself becoming more and more captivated. There was a certain elegance to the proceedings, a sense of tradition and ceremony that she found oddly enchanting.

But amidst the beauty, there was also a sense of pressure. This was a world where every gesture, every word, was scrutinized and judged. One wrong move could spell disaster, tarnishing reputations and damaging alliances.

Amelia felt a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. How was she ever going to fit into this world, with its strict rules and unforgiving expectations?

But as she watched Ethan, she began to feel a glimmer of hope. If he could master the intricacies of courtly behavior, then perhaps she could too. It wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to try.

As the lesson drew to a close, Ethan exchanged a few polite words with his tutor before making his way out of the room. Amelia lingered for a moment longer, her mind buzzing with newfound knowledge.

"Ok, now we just need to practise!"