Once Elain tasted the sweetness, she realized he was telling the truth as she recognized the taste of apricot.
But one shouldn't toss food into another's mouth just like that. And she wasn't supposed to be eating more tonight!
"Chew it slowly," the man said as he laid his hand in front of her.
When she looked down, she found a small glass box that looked like a candy container. It was open, with several pieces of dried apricot neatly piled inside.
The sweet fruit looked very enticing, especially with one already in her mouth. As she chewed, indeed, the nausea slowly subsided.
She gave him a strange look, and as if he could read her mind, he said, "It is not poisoned. I'd be more discreet if I wanted to poison someone." He smirked. "Besides, such a cheap trick is beneath me."
Elain was relieved, but she remained wary of the man. She didn't accept the box of dried apricot, but he kept it open without lowering his hand.
"I did not ask you for anything," she said. She wanted to add how improper what he had done was, but she doubted he would listen.
She was seeing it now. He was the kind of person who did what he wanted without minding the rules or how people reacted to his actions, probably because he often got away with it. That kind of privilege was something she could not help but envy.
"Though I am grateful for your consideration, I ask that you mind your actions with me, as I'm not pleased with how you shoved food into my mouth without my knowledge or permission."
He tipped his head with a small smile. "Apologies."
Instead of spending another moment in the presence of the man, Elain sidestepped and walked away. This time, he let her go.
When she made it back to the ballroom, Elain's racing heartbeat slowly calmed. She felt better now, and though she hated how the silver-eyed man had acted so waywardly with her, she had to admit that he was somehow helpful with the dried apricot he'd fed her.
She stood behind people, in one of the shadowy corners of the ballroom, fearing that she might run into the man again or make any more mistakes.
While she stood there idly watching the people dancing, she heard the ladies nearby talking.
"Why am I not seeing Mr. Greyford yet? It's been an hour since the ball started and still no sign of him."
"Mr. Rafelius, you mean?"
"Who else? Lark is somewhere in the crowd making ladies cry. He's handsome, but his hobby of breaking ladies' hearts is not something I find appealing. While the youngest, obviously, is not someone you'd see at social functions, so it would be pure luck to run across him, let alone talk to him. That man doesn't like people very much. Well, Rafelius is not very social either, but Mauvric is beyond that. He acts like he's mute and deaf."
The other lady laughed. "So you think the eldest is the best choice?"
"Isn't he? He isn't so harsh and inconsiderate like Lark and isn't so weird like Mauvric. He may be intimidating and a bit cold, but I believe he is the most tolerable among the three."
Hearing the conversation, which slightly eased her boredom, Elain was intrigued by the Greyfords.
Another lady chimed into the conversation, "Rafelius Greyford is the most tolerable, you say?"
Her voice then turned lower, as if she didn't want anyone else to hear what she was about to say. "You ladies are clueless. He acts the most sane, but you must not trust that facade. My father works for the court and hears dirty gossip from the other courtiers. It was said that Rafelius attended a dinner night held by the king early this year, which is a rare occasion, and claimed a courtier's life while everyone was eating. To do that at the king's table, how can one not question his sanity?"
Elain's heart dropped at the story, wondering how much truth it held.
"Wasn't that just a rumor, though?"
"It's only a rumor because no one dares talk about it openly, not even those who witnessed it."
"Or perhaps you are only trying to scare me because you are eyeing Mr. Greyford as your husband."
Elain's mind wandered around the topic. With the countless rumors about the Greyfords, she doubted everything was made up by the imaginative minds of people. After all, there's no smoke without fire.
While the ladies continued to talk, Elain felt the call of nature and decided to head to the bathroom.
It was down the hallway from the ballroom, so it took her a few minutes to walk there and back. When she returned, she was a few steps from the entrance of the ballroom when she noticed the chattering had grown louder.
It wasn't long before she realized someone new must have arrived, since most people's attention was directed toward a certain area. But with so many people surrounding it and given the distance, she could not see the person.
Could it be the eldest Greyford?
Before she could return to the quiet corner she had been staying in, someone grabbed her arm.
It was Rory. "Come. Our family will greet Mr. Greyford."
Elain realized she was right to assume that the one who had just arrived was the eldest Greyford. It was customary to offer respect to the host of an event, and it was most expected from families of high standing. They walked to the other side of the ballroom, weaving through people.
Soon, they found Cynthia and Lord Blythmor standing among the crowd of elites. Elain didn't let her eyes wander and kept them lowered as she stood behind her cousin, who took the place at her mother's side.
Cynthia spoke, "Mr. Greyford, this is my daughter Rory, and the other young lady with us is Elain, my husband's distant niece. Rory and Elain, greet our kind host."
Elain offered the man a curtsy at the same time Rory did. Though she was standing half a foot behind Cynthia and Rory, one could still see her face between the two ladies' shoulders.
She could feel the person in front of her staring, but she did not lift her gaze despite being curious about how Mr. Greyford looked.
One of Cynthia's teachings was to keep her eyes lowered when she was introduced to people from high society. It was mainly because Elain's green eyes could be striking, especially when seen up close, and she was trying not to leave any memorable impression on anyone.
"You are offering your respects, and yet you don't spare your host a glance. Isn't that rude, Lady Elain?"