Dancing With the Gull (Revenge of the Wallflowers, #14)

Chapter Three

Hen always rather enjoyed talking to Lady Penelope. She was forthright. So many people talked in riddles or nuances, but she did not. She was quiet in most social events, although the few times they’d been seated nearby at a supper party he’d found her spare comments intelligent and amusing. He suspected that while he found it hard to understand others, she found it far too easy. And also, that she found them wanting.

While he was not quick to understand most things people said and did, he very much recognized the shiny glint in her eyes that foretold tears.

“Are you quite all right, Lady Penelope?”

She’d been studying his shoulder and her attention snapped back to his gaze. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and sniffed delicately before replying. “Of course.”

He would take her at her word, but found himself uncharacteristically worrying about her. Kit and War always told him that when in doubt of what to say to a lady, that he should compliment them. That rule often conflicted with his own preference for truth, and he would remain silent rather than prevaricate. Most young ladies didn’t seem to notice, so long as he smiled at them. They would chatter rather blithely. In this instance, however, he could think of something to say. “I’m glad that if I have to dance with someone this evening, that it is you.”

That caused an amusing reaction. She narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it meant and hoped she would tell him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lord Greer. I’ve already tripped over my feet once and we will be lucky if I don’t do it again before this dance ends.”

“Has your dancing master been insufficient?”

His question caused a dry chuckle on her part. “Which one? My mother tried them all before giving up on my spectacularly ungainly dancing.”

“That sounds,” he paused for a moment, considering his words. He knew that sometimes when he stated things baldly, he upset people he didn’t mean to. “Unpleasant.”

“It was, at times,” she admitted. “The one who rapped my shins with a cane each time I misstepped was the worst, but he didn’t last long.”

Hen felt the sort of rage he usually reserved for the mistreatment of animals. “How long?”

She shrugged. “Just a few months.”

“He shouldn’t have lasted a moment past the first time he did it. Unconscionable. Why did your mother put up with it?”

She lowered her gaze to his cravat. “She didn’t know.”

It seemed Lady Penelope wasn’t only quiet at social occasions. Why would a young woman of marked intelligence and seemingly strong opinions remain silent while enduring such treatment? He couldn’t think of a polite way to ask such a blunt question, and instead shared his own experience. “I was quite terrible and my first dancing master despaired that I would ever be able to learn.”

Her gaze returned to his own. “But not your second?”

“Not my second,” he confirmed. “He told me that, oddly, I was paying too much attention to what I was doing. If I could run, ride, and swim without constant error, then why could I not dance?”

He left a pause before his conclusion, as War taught him to do. Talking to someone, War told him, wasn’t just about giving them information, it was about making them want that information. The rule of a pause before conclusion was often useful in engaging the listener.

Lady Penelope’s eyes were bright with curiosity as she asked, “And did he solve that problem?”

“It seems he did,” Hen confirmed.

The lady laughed, “And how did he do that?”

“He questioned me about my interests. Once he knew how much I liked numbers and patterns he suggested that I count.”

Her laugh was even louder this time. “We all count when dancing, Lord Greer.”

“You misunderstand me, perhaps. I keep part of my mind occupied by counting the dance steps, which also helps me to ensure that I’ve remembered to execute them all correctly. This waltz is typically about thirty-six hundred steps. You stumbled at step three-hundred and eighty-three, which I find amusing for being both prime and a palindrome. It will be interesting to me if you stumble again and it follows the same pattern.”

She was silent long enough that he realized he must have been awkward again. He searched for something to say. This was why he was typically silent unless he knew precisely what was appropriate for the situation. Otherwise, when he spoke, he was likely to demonstrate just this sort of odd interest, and he had absolutely no facility for recovering from such an error. It was a large part of why he stuck so closely to Kit and War. Either of those chaps were so quick of mind that they could smooth over any strangeness that Hen brought to the situation.

She finally murmured, “You are quite extraordinary.”

He couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or polite insult. He very much hoped for the former, but had to assume the later. Typically young women didn’t appreciate his interests.

***

PENELOPE LOOKED AT Lord Greer anew. People thought him dim? With a mind such that he clearly possessed it dumbfounded her that he was so polite and kind. How dull and pedestrian others of their class must be to him. She tried counting their steps while thinking about other things at the same time and gave up at forty. In fact, she couldn’t be quite sure, she might have given up at thirty-eight or forty-two, nevermind the idea of trying to carry on a conversation while also counting the steps. What would it be like to have a mind like that? A mind that could do at least three things competently at once? Well, she should correct herself, his dancing teacher noted that he should do two things at once with his mind so that his body could dance without his interference.

She found that his precision in the dance, which made his movements so predictable, and his strength that let her know he would not let her fall, made her own dancing the most comfortable it had ever been.

The silence as they completed the dance was quite comfortable to her as well, and she was surprised how quickly the time passed. When the flourish of music signaled the dancers to stop, she couldn’t help but look up at Lord Greer with a grin. His expression was, at first, remote but then settled into the genial smile she was used to associating with him.

“Lady Penelope,” he said, bowing over her hand.

“Thank you for the dance, Lord Greer,” she responded with a nod.

They separated on the dance floor, each going back to their own typical places at these events. Her, lingering not in the chairs reserved for wallflowers and matrons, but even further away, along the wall, wishing to hide behind the copious plantings. He, to a more open portion of the floor where the young bucks gathered to survey what ladies they might yet invite to dance.

She observed him furtively, noting that he didn’t invite a lady to the next dance. Ten minutes later, however, she could no longer see him among his peers. Where had he gone? Had he left, as the most polite way to avoid dancing with any other young ladies? She felt terrible that she forced him into a dance he was meaning to avoid, but it was hard to truly regret their conversation. She felt better knowing that he was aware that the fortune hunters were eager to capture him.