Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Finally, the evening at Almack’s not only approached—it arrived.
Missie’s gown of midnight blue was covered with the sheerest of silver chiffon overskirts.
Tiny paste crystals were woven throughout her hair, so that she glittered like the night sky.
Aurora was once again in a deep, warm rose, with a matching band laced throughout the complex arrangement of her hair in layers and curls.
Aurora’s eyes danced in anticipation, and she could not stop smiling; Missie’s face was schooled to stillness, yet she could not keep the excitement from shining out of her eyes either.
Their white gloved arms were suitably demure, though Aurora gave off a lovely glow, and Missie’s decolletage simply plunged in invitation.
Before they knew it, their carriage pulled up in front of Almack’s and they were being announced.
Lady Jersey and Lady Sefton, who were in attendance this evening as the official chaperones, greeted them as they stepped into the Assembly Rooms. Each young woman was appraised with a quick and practiced eye and received a nod of approval.
Then they were whisked off into dance after dance, with occasional respites for a glass of punch or a small plate of delicacies, presented to them by their current partner.
As she became acclimated to the whirl of the evening, Aurora began to take note of her surroundings.
Butterflies flitted in her stomach as she knew the waltz would be coming up soon, and she would be partnered by the Duke of Selkirk.
She blushed in expectation, which pleased the greasy-haired viscount she was dancing with no end.
She ignored him until she unfortunately trod on his foot in distraction.
His wince brought her back to herself. No wool gathering, Aurora, she scolded silently.
She thought she glimpsed Lady Hinsdale once across the room, who appeared to catch her eye and give a slight smile, and then knowingly tapped the side of her nose.
What a peculiar person she is. But as Missie would say, “It does not signify.” Then her mind returned to her upcoming waltz.
This mixture of terror and pleasurable anticipation, tightly intertwined, was still new to her, and she was unsure whether she liked it.
She noted the other young women in attendance: what they were wearing, how they styled their hair, and who was dancing with whom.
As she sized them up, she was certain they were doing the same to her.
And likely finding her wanting. She almost gasped, however, at the sight of one very thin woman of about her age with jet black hair, who appeared terribly weak and was being dragged more than swept around the room by her partner.
The gasp came from her color. She looked green.
At the next pause, Aurora sought out Missie. “That young woman—did you see her? She is green, Missie! Just like Sarah became at Miss F’s before she was taken home.”
Missie broke off her delicate nibbling of a tiny pastry with a sniff.
“She has the green sickness, you ninny. Oh, to be so fashionably thin. The only cure they say is bloodletting, or marriage and bearing children. Though, being that color, it likely won’t be the suitor of her choice.
Anyone else, practically, I would say. A most unbecoming shade in actuality. How delicate she looks!”
“It appears most unnatural, Missie. Poor thing.”
“Poor thing, fustian!” In spite of her careful air of disinterest, a tiny upward curve of her mouth told Aurora her friend was reveling in the evening. Before they could talk more, however, Missie was claimed by her next partner and went off with him for a gavotte.
And then he was standing in front of her, giving her the briefest of bows accompanied by a suddenly dazzling smile.
Alec Raeburn, the Duke of Selkirk. Aurora almost stopped breathing.
She took the hand he offered and followed him out onto the floor where the couples who had been approved were gathering for the waltz.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught Missie stepping forward with the Duke of Galloway, lightly holding his hand and letting his other hand clasp her waist. Aurora let herself be steered by the Duke of Selkirk into position.
They stood so close, even if ostensibly still at the regulated distance, she could feel the heat of his body.
For the first time in her life, she was sorely tempted to swoon.
With that not an option, she leaned into the dance’s embrace and began to circle the floor.
It took a few turns before her brain stopped hopping about and she could focus on her partner. He was watching her with a slight smile, which brightened when she felt her eyes begin to take in her actual surroundings. She looked more directly at him.
“There you are,” he said, “You weren’t quite there for a minute or two.”
“This is my first waltz.” At his chuckle, Aurora found her tongue. “As clearly you knew.” She gave a slight exhale. “It is quite lovely, actually.”
“I am glad you are enjoying it. Any Homeric quotes for the occasion?”
She blushed, realizing the Duke of Galloway had revealed her slip.
But this time, she was surprised to find herself not apologizing.
“Homer would have written a very different type of poetry if they had waltzed in Classical times. No, something more along the lines of Keats, I would think. Or Lord Byron.”
At that, Alec laughed. It was a relaxed sound, no irony or bark in it at all.
“Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused,
Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,
And, all unsexed, the anlace hath espoused,
Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war?”
Aurora gaped at him. She sputtered for a moment and then said, “You are a wicked, wicked man, Your Grace.”
Alec gave her a mischievous smile. “I confess I could not help it. I am, however, far from being mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps this stanza would be more appropriate?”
“Not in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deemed,
Not in those visions to the heart displaying
Forms which it sighs but to have only dreamed,
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seemed:
Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek
To paint those charms which varied as they beamed—
To such as see thee not my words were weak;
To those who gaze on thee, what language could they speak?”
Being this close to him, looking into his eyes, hearing him recite poetry to her in this lovely, soft baritone rumble was causing a painful constriction in Aurora’s chest, an impairment of her ability to breathe.
“Yes, quite,” was all she could get out.
And then, “Perhaps we should confine ourselves to Keats.”
This led Alec to throw his head back and laugh out loud again.
His eyes were warm and affectionate. She detected no mockery in his teasing, more a note of friendship.
Their bodies fit together, easily moving in the dance’s steps.
She hoped her hand, held in his, was not sweating.
The touch of his other hand on her waist kept her cheeks exceedingly warm.
But she eventually relaxed into the practiced steering of his arms and became comfortable in the closeness of their bodies to one another.
She felt as if she were dancing on air, and his arms were the one thing which kept her tethered to the earth.
All too soon, the waltz ended. The two of them stayed connected for another moment, which seemed, to Aurora, to hold them, suspended.
She wasn’t sure she wanted it ever to stop.
Then it did. The Duke of Selkirk took a step back and released her from his embrace.
He gave her a slight bow, and she returned a curtsy.
When he escorted her back to Lady Wentworth, however, there was a sense of ease between them, and the faintest crackle of something else.
He bowed again. Was there a touch of regret in his eyes?
She turned at the voice whispering at her shoulder and missed his departure until their next dance, which required several more partners to go through first.
“Really, Rorie, you are such a complete goose. No gentleman likes to be so obviously mooned over.” There was an edge to that familiar voice, a note of waspish sharpness directed at Aurora that she was coming to dread.
Aurora looked directly at Missie and, for the second time that evening, surprised herself by replying calmly, without stammering or tripping over her own tongue in apology. “Did you enjoy your waltz?”
She watched her friend struggle to keep her face still, though she couldn’t help biting her lip. “It was…tolerable,” she said, but Aurora knew she had enjoyed it as well.
“It is a dangerous dance,” was all she said in reply.
“Quite.” There was a new note of bemusement in Missie’s tone, which brought the two of them into a momentary sympathy with one another.
At that moment, Lady Hinsdale appeared out of seemingly nowhere and whispered into Aurora’s ear. “Most excellent, m’dear. Most excellent.” Aurora shrank away, closer to Missie, but the woman was already swallowed up in the throng again.
“Lord, Mama, this is such a crush!” griped Missie to Lady Wentworth.
“It is, child. You are doing splendidly. The Duke of Galloway is looking quite interested. You made a handsome couple—you will be a duchess yet. The night is still young. Stand tall, daughter. You have more yet to do. And dazzle, Millicent. Dazzle.”
And Missie dazzled. She glowed. She sparkled. All eyes seemed to light on her, focus on her, wherever she went. Aurora was quite content to watch her—out-glamouring the embodiment of glamour was fruitless, and she had no desire to even attempt it.
The rest of the evening sped by. Aurora was able to dance one more dance with her duke.
At least, for tonight, this was what she would call him.
Unfortunately, it could not be another waltz.
As he took her hand and led her into place for a country dance, he cocked an eyebrow at her, and his eyes sparkled dangerously.
Remembering the conversation during their last dance, she knew she must stop him before he undid her with more Byron.
“Perhaps ‘All thou know’st do not speak,’ Your Grace” she said, as calmly as she could muster.
There was no opportunity to talk for a few minutes as they swung in and out of the dance’s patterns.
When they were next reunited, he said with deceptive mildness, “I find the weather at present exceedingly pleasant. Almost as it would be in Greece this time of year. Do you find it so, Miss Hardcastle?”
The light of mischief in his eyes, however, strongly belied the innocence of his tone. As a result, her attempt at a reply came out more as a snort of laughter. Looking entirely too pleased with himself, he swung away into the next pattern.
The feel of his hand on her waist returned every time she looked at him.
The ice had been broken between them. His teasing was gentle and created an intimacy she found comforting in the midst of what felt like an increasingly unfriendly obstacle course.
But all too soon, their second dance was over.
He escorted her back to her chaperone and kissed her hand in farewell. Then he was gone, across the ballroom.
As they departed from the night’s festivities, she could not stop her eyes from searching the room for him. But he seemed to have vanished.
Aurora did not wake up early the next morning. When she did, she felt heavy and dull, and all-around out-of-sorts. She had not slept well. Her dreams had been haunted by a pair of dark eyes and a remembered heat in her body in places she was not used to feeling so.
Perhaps it is true the waltz is not a safe dance for one’s health. But she could not suppress the longing to do it again.
* * *
Letting go of Miss Hardcastle’s hand had been extraordinarily difficult. It required all Alec’s self-discipline to lead her calmly off the dance floor and deposit her at her chaperone’s side.
Deuce take it, I need a drink, and he headed off in search of something.
He found nothing of much help on offer (Almack’s hostesses were exceedingly proper), so he had to content himself with a glass of punch and the promise of something stronger when he returned to his rooms. It was time to go in search of Finn, so they could make their good-byes.
He forced himself to exhale. But that could wait a moment.
He needed to compose himself after that unexpectedly extraordinary waltz.
He could still feel the warmth of her body pressed against his.
What was this young woman doing to him? Even in the first flush of his love for Mary, he had never responded in quite this way.
And now he was an experienced man of the world, a campaigner in so many respects.
How was he going to get any sleep tonight? He needed a drink. Or three. And, no, he would decidedly not say anything to his cousin. This was all about business. Yes, business. He must keep his head. Business.
When he returned to the room where the dances were taking place, he realized that he was too late to see Miss Hardcastle’s departure.
Was that relief he felt? Or chagrin? He decided to try to ignore his own thoughts, finally spotted Finn, and went to collect him for their departure.
He stayed silent the entire carriage ride to his rooms. Finn blissfully let him be.