Страница 42 из 61
Di
"You don't mean it!"
"You don't say…" There were even places for "Uh-huh," and "Yes," and "I thought so myself." But never, of course, for "No," or "I don't agree"; those might take some explanation, and actually involve saying something.
Officially, he had taken Lady Heloise into di
Which led to the inescapable conclusion that Rod wasn't the kind of man these young ladies intended to marry (or that their mamas intended for them), but that he was the kind they wanted to dance and flirt with.
Why me? It certainly couldn't have been his looks.
Maybe his conversation. In a desperate attempt to divert attention away from himself, he pointed his nose at Marquis Msimangu, Lady Laetitia's escort. "I hear a rumor that you've designed a new robot, milord."
"Why, yes, actually." Hugo came alive with surprise that anybody should be talking to him. "Still full of bugs, of course, but looks as though the damned thing may actually work."
Rod paused a fraction of a second, to let one of the young ladies ask the polite follow-up, but they were all looking as though the lemon in their tea was getting to them. "What kind is it?"
"Oh, a household 'bot. It'll do all the usual—you know, cook, clean, dust, pick up…"
Rod frowned. "Usual, yes. What's the new part?"
"Oh, it makes toast. For those who like their grilled bread truly fresh—it has two slots in its chest, and makes the toast right there, by your bed."
"A startling i
Lady Morwe
"Oh! Lady Michelle is talking about that new card game from Terra!" She turned a dazzling smile back toward Rod. "You know, the one you can play without a calculator to hand?"
Rod still couldn't understand why people needed special calculators for bridge and canasta—but then, he had never taken card games seriously enough to try to keep track of which cards had been played. "Really? How's it work?"
"Oh, the object of the game is to match cards by number," Lady Laetitia spoke up, oblivious to Morwe
"Intricate," Rod murmured. "What if they don't have any?"
"Why, then they say, 'Go fish!' and you search through the extras."
"It's a great deal of fun," Lady Heloise said, delighted to find something she could talk about. "Frees you from trying to think about the cards, and lets you pay attention to the play."
"Like a drama where the characters are very simple?"
"Oh, you've seen the new Notty Alent romance!" Laetitia gushed. "Isn't she just splendid as Lady Carstairs!"
"And that wonderfully decrepit house she's brought into, as governess!" said Morwe
Rod cleared his throat, aware that reality should never intrude at a ball. "Your gown is striking, Laetitia." In fact, it almost struck out. "I don't believe I've ever seen that cut before."
"Why, thank you!" Laetitia flushed with pleasure, and Morwe
"Really, Titia, you were quite precipitate," Heloise scolded. "I swear you scarcely let the poor man step off the boarding ramp before you were on him!"
" 'She who hesitates is lost,' " Laetitia quoted, looking immensely pleased with herself.
"Mine will be done for Thursday's ball, though, so don't think you'll keep the advantage, Tish."
Laetitia sat back with a pinfeather smile. "A genuine original by an authentic Terran couturier."
Well, that explained it. Rod had heard about the new arrival, and had been so surprised that a Terran designer would actually choose to come to Maxima, that he had asked Fess for a brief on the man. The robot had run through the last six months' news, and given him the not-so-startling information that Monsieur Valdez was more widely known by his Terran trade name of Monsieur Iberien. That put the whole thing in perspective. Rod remembered, from his weekly newsfeeds, that Monsieur Iberien had struck out on his own only two years ago, after ten years' apprenticeship in the House of Lachenoir. He had obtained backers, launched his first fall line, garnered unanimous critical censure, obtained absolutely no orders except one from a costermonger who wanted something special for his wife, and had gone spectacularly bankrupt. "I understand he has a novel theory as to what constitutes art."
"Yes, it does seem singular." Sir Gilman, on Morwe
The ladies paled and Rod said quickly, "Well, that was only an example. He says art consists entirely in arousing strong emotional responses, and the nature of the response doesn't matter."
"I certainly receive a great emotional response from looking at your dress, Laetitia," Morwe
Not for long, though. The ladies of Maxima wouldn't really care what their clothes looked like, as long as they were made by a genuine Terran designer—and his spirits might revive enough to start giving expression to his notion of art again. Rod decided that, no matter what happened to him aboard that freighter, he was not coming back for the next season.