Lysander claimed a bit of wall space and leaned one shoulder against the stone where he could watch Gemma. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely and quite indifferent to the events of ten minutes past.

If he'd just met her for the first time, he would've been utterly convinced of it. But even on that first encounter she had set herself apart, held back, observing the enjoyments of others. Now she laughed aloud as she and Button went up on their toes in their part as a segment of the dance tunnel, the two of them hilariously trying to remain joined by the hands over the head of the massive Smith who was paired with his tall, voluptuous wife.

All the room laughed and teased the pair, telling Button to "Eat your mutton so you'll grow big and strong!" And the ladies calling out to Gemma that they could teach her to make a man "grow big and strong." It was all good-natured country fun, in a society where the breeding of young creatures of all sorts was considered perfectly appropriate conversational fodder.

Gemma laughed and blushed and shot Lysander a single glance full of defiance that clearly intended to instruct him that his refusal had no effect on her whatsoever.

Lysander was not disturbed. He knew for certain that he'd had a tremendous effect upon Gemma. No longer was she the reserved Lady of the Dale, outside looking in, held in wary deference by the folk of Farby. The village truly seem to embrace and enjoy this new Gemma, although Lysander noticed the that the teasing remained respectful and affectionate.

After pondering the change in her for another moment, Lysander stopped thinking. He simply watched his beautiful Gemma laugh and dance like a carefree country maiden. His gaze caught on the curve of her lips and the flash of white teeth as she giggled at Button's wickedly funny riposte to the worst of his hecklers. The room broke out in a roar of laughter. Lysander missed the point of the joke because he was focused on the graceful way Gemma's dainty, hard-working hand moved through the air, drifting on the music like a leaf floating on a breeze.

Poll joined him on the wall and handed Lysander a tankard. When Lysander drew back his hand in suspicion, Poll laughed.

"No muckle–mouth juice here. Just a very young ale. Watch out, it has a kick."

Lysander took a sip, grateful when the bitter nutty flavor further distanced him from the bilberry incident — although it'd had its moments.

He took his focus from Gemma long enough to become aware that Poll watched him over the rim of his own tankard. Lysander raised an eyebrow in question.

Poll nearly snorted ale up his nose. "Stop that! You look like Orion! One is enough for any family."