Cordelia looked at her dance card, and found the next spot was empty. She slipped out to the stables before some beardless wonder could fill it. Enough of her partners already smelled like horses tonight that she doubted any of them would notice a whiff or two on her. Besides, she could always blame it on the subaltern from Spain.

            As she entered the rear building, she heard one of the neighbor boys telling his younger brother how to fix a saddle girth. She nodded in approval as—oh, yes, George Withers—went on to speak about the care of an inflamed fetlock.

            Unfortunately, he apparently forgot or did not know about the use of oatmeal water in such cures for additional cooling of the damaged limb. Cordelia coughed gently to make her presence known, and helped the other two look over the fretful chestnut mare. She had known both boys all her life, and thus introductions weren’t really necessary.

            George looked at her oddly, as if he’d never really seen her before. Cordelia’s face flushed, as she realized she was in a ballgown. How odd. She had never felt out of place in the stables before.

The three of them now need to decide:

a) to go back into the ballroom click here.

b) if they just chat for a bit in the stables, click here.

If you want to return to the ballroom--please click here.

If you want to exit the game--please click here.