Violet stood up, her back aching a little. She'd been lead out to dance a couple of times herself but she was now back at the ladies' table. The evening was in full swing but she was growing tired of watching the merriment. The sweet wine served to everyone was also making her feel drowsy.
Ilse was on the dance floor, being whirled around. Her laughter cascaded like sweet birdsong and was setting Violet's teeth on edge. She had lost count of the men who'd asked her pretty sister to dance. Now Ilse was in the arms of Prince James, who was making her laugh with whatever he was saying. Or maybe she was just pretending to find his words amusing.
Violet wondered how much of Ilse's joyful exuberance was real and how much was an act to please others. Was she genuinely as happy at court, serving as the companion to a boring old woman, as she made out to be? Or was she just playing the role to help her fit in?