Heart Dance by Robin D. Owens Page A

the discourtesy, but Dufleur knew what she meant. Outside the lab she tended to be clumsy. D’Holly noddedonce. “You need dancing lessons.”
    Dufleur closed her eyes in horror.
    D’Holly’s laugh tinkled. She reached out and squeezed Dufleur’s limp fingers. “I promise the lessons will not hurt at all.” A considering look came to her eyes. “In fact, it will serve anotherpurpose. I’ll have my Journeywoman play for your instructions.It will do her good to understand how one must play for lessons.”
    “ You can’t have played for lessons.”
    D’Holly patted her cheek. “Of course I did. Dancing lessons for my boys.”
    Oh, of course.
    “We must make an appointment with my hairdresser.” She glanced at D’Dandelion who was boxing Dufleur’s work. “May I use your scrybowl?”
    “Of course, my Lady,” D’Dandelion said. The shop owner wasn’t that far below D’Holly’s status. Just a rung or two. The Dandelion Family was a title taken within the first generation of colonists and had thrived.
    D’Holly went to the discreet china scrybowl and tapped one gloved finger against the rim. “T’Chervil.”
    “Here,” answered a man. His smiling image formed over the bowl. “It’s wonderful to see you, GreatLady!” His eyes narrowed.“Definitely time for a trim.”
    D’Holly chuckled. “Very well, but I’d like to make an appointmentfor my protégée, my distant cuz, GrandMistrys Dufleur Thyme.” She gestured Dufleur over to the bowl.
    Dufleur turned her grimace at the empty title into a polite smile. “Greetyou, GrandLord.” She didn’t recognize him, but knew enough about the FirstFamilies to understand they would only patronize those who were at the top of the pyramid in Flair, so the man had to be a GrandLord.
    He eyed her, and a glitter came to his eyes. Dufleur had seen that own glitter, the slightly flushed cheeks in the mirror when she’d contemplated a challenging project. Oh. Dear.
    “Come at once,” the hairdresser said. “I have time right now.” He didn’t even look at his calendar sphere.
    Oh. No. No. Dufleur touched her hair.
    “Cutting and shaping, of course. Must have a tinting rinse, reddish would be most striking. I’ll be waiting.” The snicking of scissors came as he ended the call.
    “Look at those wide eyes,” Passiflora said. She shook her head. “You truly have beautiful eyes. And your smile, I think, is quite lovely, though I haven’t seen it often.”
    “I don’t know if I can afford—” Dufleur protested.
    “My treat.” Passiflora waved at the footman in her glider, and he left the vehicle, entered the shop, and took the boxes away.
    “Too kind,” Dufleur murmured weakly. She really didn’t want this.
    “When we’re done with you, no man, especially T’Willow, will be able to resist you.”
    Just what she didn’t want most in the world. She didn’t want a husband. “T’Willow!”
    “Why, Dufleur, it was obvious he lingered to see you.”
    Dufleur closed her eyes. Definitely didn’t want a GreatLord , a FirstFamily husband, a man who would believe he could run her life. That would be the end of her experiments.
    “I don’t want a husband,” Dufleur said.
    D’Holly stilled, turned a shocked face to her. “Not want a mate?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve passed your Second Passage, didn’t you connect with a HeartMate?”
    “No,” Dufleur lied. She wanted nothing that would distract her from her experiments, more, that would keep her from clearing her father’s name. She was sure no man would appreciatehis wife regularly breaking the law by working with time.
    “And not T’Willow.” She tossed her head, felt the heavy weight of her soon-to-be-cut hair, figured she wouldn’t have the pleasure of flinging it around anymore, and tossed her head again.
    “He’s nothing at all like his MotherDam,” D’Dandelion soothed—as she’d been saying to Dufleur every time she’d accepteda commission from the man over the last