Miles, for his part, makes straight for the shower. His black House uniform is in critical laundry condition; that two-way trek through the mud to meet with Linyabel really did a number on it. The rest of him... well. It's not that he's particularly muddy - in fact, he might prefer mud to the sight of his own body, just now. If only he had a supply of black curtains with which to cover all the mirrors in his suite.
If how the lady sees him is the inverse of how he sees her - he's surprised she didn't run screaming. Well, the haut-women can see out of their bubbles just fine; perhaps she's used to the sight of inferior humanity, blotched and lumpy and unattractive as they are. Perhaps it's all the same to her, a ghem-lord or Ivan or Miles himself... She said she didn't want to marry a ghem-lord. Why not? He should have asked. No he shouldn't. Yes he should. He'll see if he can slip it in. Compare histories, if he can find any interesting parts of his that aren't top secret. Maybe she'd like to hear about his grandfather's horses.
The ghem-lords win their haut-wives through great deeds. The Vor and the ghem are not so different - he has that observation right from the expert-ish Maz. Just now, Miles is well placed to do something reasonably great... his interests and the haut Linyabel's and Barrayar's and the Cetagandan Emperor's, all neatly aligned. Retrieve the Key, save the haut-ladies a crypto-crisis of untold proportion, clear Barrayar's name of whatever the governor in question means to smear it with, forestall a probable civil war. All in a day's work for Miles the Magnificent, ha. At least he has only three governors to choose from. A triangle to triangulate.
Even if he does manage it, though—even if the Emperor chooses against all custom and precedent to give him that miraculous reward—it's no use if she doesn't like him. She smiled. Twice, even. Does that mean anything? Does he dare hope? He feels certain, in the total absence of evidence, that no ghem-lord has ever made her smile.
no subject
If how the lady sees him is the inverse of how he sees her - he's surprised she didn't run screaming. Well, the haut-women can see out of their bubbles just fine; perhaps she's used to the sight of inferior humanity, blotched and lumpy and unattractive as they are. Perhaps it's all the same to her, a ghem-lord or Ivan or Miles himself... She said she didn't want to marry a ghem-lord. Why not? He should have asked. No he shouldn't. Yes he should. He'll see if he can slip it in. Compare histories, if he can find any interesting parts of his that aren't top secret. Maybe she'd like to hear about his grandfather's horses.
The ghem-lords win their haut-wives through great deeds. The Vor and the ghem are not so different - he has that observation right from the expert-ish Maz. Just now, Miles is well placed to do something reasonably great... his interests and the haut Linyabel's and Barrayar's and the Cetagandan Emperor's, all neatly aligned. Retrieve the Key, save the haut-ladies a crypto-crisis of untold proportion, clear Barrayar's name of whatever the governor in question means to smear it with, forestall a probable civil war. All in a day's work for Miles the Magnificent, ha. At least he has only three governors to choose from. A triangle to triangulate.
Even if he does manage it, though—even if the Emperor chooses against all custom and precedent to give him that miraculous reward—it's no use if she doesn't like him. She smiled. Twice, even. Does that mean anything? Does he dare hope? He feels certain, in the total absence of evidence, that no ghem-lord has ever made her smile.