Chapter Fourteen
VW
“As it will be your ball, you will lead out the dancing.”
Athena nodded. She understood the conventions, and she knew the Dowager Duchess, Adam’s mother, was not only trying to be helpful but was also by far the most knowledgeable person of Athena’s acquaintance on matters of society.
Athena’s come-out ball was a mere two days away.
Falstone House was already in a flurry of activity.
Adam’s mother had arrived only the evening before.
And Athena’s nerves were on edge. The ball she had been looking forward to felt more burdensome by the minute.
She had been laid up with an uncharacteristic fever for three days and had yet to fully regain her stamina.
She had been kept to the quiet confines of Falstone House during her illness and recovery, receiving no visitors but many floral tributes.
Mr. Rigby, whom she vaguely recalled meeting at the Duke and Duchess of Hartley’s ball, had sent several very large arrangements accompanied by eloquent notes wishing her well.
She ought to have been flattered, but mostly she felt indifferent. Perhaps she was merely tired.
“Does the first dance have to be a minuet?” Athena asked.
She always felt terribly awkward and clumsy during a minuet.
It was such a stately dance, the movements most pleasing when they were graceful and elegant.
Athena knew herself to be more suited to country dances, where a little uncertainty was easily masked with enthusiasm.
“Perhaps something else would be better.”
The Dowager Duchess looked ponderous. She was intimidating—not in the same way Adam was, but intimidating just the same.
She was poised, confident, refined. The Dowager Duchess was a very handsome and fashionable woman.
And, like her son, there was a sharpness in her gaze that put Athena instantly on her guard, as if every aspect of her character were laid open for evaluation.
Yet for all that, Athena could see that the duchess was a very kindhearted lady.
“Adam is particularly adept at the minuet,” the duchess said. “And he, as your guardian and sponsor, will dance the first set with you.”
Athena had seen Adam perform the minuet.
On the few occasions he had stood up with Persephone, it was that dance he had chosen.
Adam was well-suited to it. Persephone was as well.
They were both naturally graceful, something most people would not immediately surmise about the intimidating Duke of Kielder. Athena was not so blessed.
“The minuet does suit him,” Athena conceded.
“But you feel it does not suit you?”
Athena shook her head, unwilling to put into words her lack of grace.
“Let me see you dance the minuet,” the Dowager Duchess said, her words not inviting any objection. She rose from her seat in the drawing room and, without prelude, led the way out.
Athena glanced nervously at Persephone. Was she expected to execute the complicated dance right at that moment? With an audience evaluating her abilities? Without even a partner?
“Athena, do ask Adam to join us in the ballroom,” the duchess said as they made their way down the hall. “I believe he is in his book room.”
“Adam?” Athena asked, hearing the slight tremor in her voice. That was not a message Adam would appreciate receiving.
“If you are to dance with him at your ball, I believe it would be best to practice with him. Do you not think so?” It was quite obviously a rhetorical question.
Athena glanced once more at Persephone, unsure of what she ought to do. Disobeying the Dowager Duchess was unthinkable. But instructing the Duke of Kielder to report to the ballroom for a dancing demonstration was tantamount to laying one’s head beneath the blade of a guillotine.
Persephone nodded and offered what Athena was sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile, though it did not lessen her unease.
Resigning herself to an early death, Athena turned in the direction of the book room.
She knew on an intellectual level that she had nothing to fear, physically, from her brother-in-law, but she was nervous just the same.
He could offer set-downs from which one did not recover easily.
The Infamous Duke was also in possession of an eyebrow that, when lifted just so, made one instantly begin evaluating one’s life, as death felt frighteningly imminent.
Forcing down the urge to turn around and hide in her room, Athena took a deep breath at the door to the book room.
She could hear Adam’s low rumble of a voice, though she could not make out his precise words.
With whom was he speaking? Was he in the midst of estate business?
Perhaps he was ensconced with a fellow member of Lords.
It wasn’t a good time, Athena decided, pointedly ignoring the surge of relief her very quickly reached conclusion afforded her.
But a second voice reached her ears that not only changed her evaluation of the situation but set her far more at ease. Adam was speaking with Harry.
Athena slipped inside the room. Two faces turned in her direction. Athena’s eyes darted to Adam, trying to ascertain his reaction, but her gaze stayed with Harry. He was smiling, and that made the entire ordeal easier. Athena smiled back.
Harry raised a single finger and pressed it to his lips. It was a warning to stay quiet, she knew, but Athena didn’t understand the reason. Harry waved her over. Athena’s curiosity was certainly piqued.
She moved across the room toward the fireplace where Harry was sitting in an armchair, Adam nearby on a sofa facing away from Athena.
The air grew warmer as Athena approached, and she was grateful for it.
October had turned cold, and her recent illness seemed to have left her more sensitive to drafts.
“Adam has finally been provided with indisputable proof that he is a dead bore,” Harry said in a low voice, his eyes twinkling the way they always did when he was in a mischievous mood. He motioned in Adam’s direction, and Athena turned, curious.
She could not, even in her most imaginative moments, have anticipated what she saw. Adam sat on the sofa looking almost defiant while, beside him, Daphne was quite soundly asleep, her head resting against Adam’s arm.
“It was bound to happen, old man,” Harry continued. “The poor girl has endured your company day after day for weeks on end. It’s a miracle she didn’t expire from boredom long ago.”
“Shut up, Harry,” Adam grumbled.
Harry laughed but managed to keep the sound quiet enough not to disturb Daphne.
Athena simply stared at the unexpected picture before her.
Daphne looked quite comfortable, and that state couldn’t be entirely attributed to her being asleep.
Daphne had to have assumed her current position while she was awake.
And, perhaps more startling still, Adam had to have been party to the situation.
“She is here often?” Athena asked, trying to make sense of it all.
“Miss Daphne spends an hour every afternoon with her brother-in-law and, as I know to my detriment, fiercely guards her time with him,” Harry answered. “It seems they are quite the closest of friends.”
“Harry.” Adam’s tone was clearly a warning.
“Every afternoon?” Athena couldn’t shake off her shock. She broke her gaze and turned her attention to Harry.
Harry nodded, his smile growing. “Although this is, to my knowledge, the first time Daphne has been rendered unconscious.”
Athena looked back at Daphne once more. Her dark hair, so like Persephone’s, had come loose in chunks as she slept.
She was leaning so heavily against Adam that she must have been very deeply asleep.
Athena couldn’t imagine being so at ease in Adam’s company.
Had she found herself seated beside the duke, Athena was certain she would have been unable to relax enough to breathe evenly, let alone sleep peacefully.
“Have you come for a nap, too, Athena? Adam, I assure you, has many topics he can discuss at length that should almost instantly put you to sleep.”
“You have overstayed your welcome, Harry,” Adam said. “Again.”
“Throw me out in a minute, will you? I, for one, am dying to hear what Athena has to say.”
“Dying is a very good word choice,” Adam replied.
Athena glanced nervously at Harry. “Is he serious?” she asked under her breath.
“Adam is always serious,” Harry answered, but his smile didn’t slip in the slightest. “So it would be best if you deliver your message and escape before he makes good on his sadly repetitive threat.”
That was not very encouraging. But Adam was watching her with a look of impatient expectation, and Athena knew better than not to obey the Duke of Kielder—even if the command was an unspoken one.
“Your mother has sent me to ask you to join her in the ballroom,” Athena said, rushing her words a bit in her desire to have her message delivered as quickly as possible so she might make a quick exit just as Harry had suggested.
“The ballroom?” Adam seemed to almost choke on the word. “Why would she wish to see me in that of all rooms?”
“For . . . um,” Athena cleared her throat. “For a minuet.”
“She wishes me to dance?” Adam looked thunderous, though he didn’t move so much as an inch.
Athena backed up and nodded.
“Adam,” Harry interrupted, quite suddenly standing beside Athena. “No point shooting the messenger. I am absolutely certain the minuet was not Athena’s idea—she does not even care for the minuet.”
Athena looked at Harry standing next to her. She had never told him she disliked the minuet. How had he known that?
“If she doesn’t like the minuet, then why in bloody—”
“Adam,” Harry cut him off.
Daphne stirred slightly beside Adam, no doubt rousing a bit at his raised voice. “Why,” Adam continued, voice lowered, “am I dancing it with her at her ball? Certainly not for my own enjoyment.”
“Your mother thinks it would be most proper,” Athena explained.