Chapter 5
Five
Felix snorted just outside the drawing room doors. If Edith heard the imp cursing, she would send for a carriage to take her to the docks immediately.
He paused for a moment, deliberating whether it was wise to enter the room and talk to Isabelle. She would surely be surly after what sounded like another torturous lesson.
And yet, there were matters at hand he needed to speak with her about that could not wait.
In particular, her disdain for marriage.
Felix pushed open the door to the drawing room just as Miss Alden planted the book of Roman poetry on her head and took a step forward with her right foot.
He leaned against the wall, crossing one leg over the other at the ankle. “Are you aware you are dancing the man’s steps?”
The book slipped from her head and caught on some of the pins in her hair. As the book struck the ground her pins fell and several tendrils of her raven hair fell loose.
She spun to glare at him. “I knew that.”
“I doubt that.” he teased, nodding to the book on the floor. “The cover has seen better days. I do not believe that cursing at it is going to make you a better dancer. Especially if you are going to curse at your dance partner.”
Isabelle’s cheeks flared a brilliant shade of red. “Please do not tell the Dowager Duchess.”
“She would surely send you packing.” Felix pushed away from the wall and walked over to the piano, looking over the sheet music. “Interesting that Mama is teaching you the waltz. She has always thought it improper.”
“Your sisters wished for her to teach me something more modern. They wanted reels and she settled for a waltz, Your Grace.”
“Ah, so you do have manners.” Felix smirked at her as he looked up from the music. “I was beginning to find them lacking. I thought that I would have to tell your future husband that it would be better for him to see you off to your private salon with books so you cannot insult him.”
“I have yet to insult you.” She picked up the book before adjusting the crooked lamp on the table. “Your Grace.”
Felix chuckled and stood upright. “I think that you should spend a little more time on your dancing lessons. The first ball is rapidly approaching, and Lord Westshire shall be eager to dance with you.”
“Your Grace, please do not fill my dance card with loathsome men. I would rather spend the evening tucked in a quiet corner of the room with a book.”
Felix circled her, his hands clasped behind his back. “You would rather I allowed you to snub the ton? Do you believe you are better than any other who would be there? Do you think that you should be allowed the distinction of sitting out on the festivities when so many will be there for you?”
Isabelle scoffed, her pretty eyes rolling. “I hardly think it should matter. I am no better than any other. If I have learned anything in the past few days, it is in fact that the English feel as if I am a lower class of person because I have an American accent.”
She seemed to forget herself when she was around him. Felix liked that he unsteadied her. It would make it easier to needle her into doing what he wanted.
Which was being agreeable to any gentleman who might consider her to become his wife.
Felix stopped and took the book from her hands. “Have you read these poems?”
Isabelle shook her head. “No. The Romans’ love poems are beautiful, but they often contain tragedy. And while that is true enough to real life, I would prefer a little light-hearted reading when I venture into a poetry book.”
“And that is why you abuse this poor book so while dancing?” He turned the book over, looking at the tears in the fabric cover.
“My hair pins must have caught there when you startled me. I can have Papa send more money to replace it.”
“There is no need for that provided you attempt to be kinder to my literature during the remainder of your dance lessons. I would hate to have to purchase a new collection for my library.”
“Then you must try to dance with a book on your head!” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips. “You shall see that it is not as easy as you would like to make it seem.”
“I have no need for a book on my head or dancing practice.” He gave her an amused smile and held the book out to her. “I know which steps I am to take and into which ones I am to lead my partner.”
“I believe you have the dubious distinction of being the most infuriating person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!”
“Careful now, Miss Alden. I do not think I should claim the title of the most infuriating person. I have met far more irritating gentlemen, and all of them were quite capable of dancing.”
“You are teasing me.”
“Perhaps.”
She ignored the book in his hand. “If you think you are an excellent dancer, then waltzing with a book on your head should be easy. I would like to see you attempt it.”
“And if I can do it without you sabotaging me?”
“Then you can do it?”
“That is hardly a wager, Miss Alden.” Felix turned the book over in his hands before placing it on his head and allowing it to fall. He caught the tome before it hit the ground.
“A lady does not wager.”
“Then it is a very good thing that no true lady is present, is it not?”
The murderous look she gave him was almost enough to cause him to back out of the room and leave her alone to practice.
However, he enjoyed this back and forth between them. He liked the fiery look in her eyes when they were bickering and was intrigued by the way she rose to challenge him at every turn. It seemed it had never occurred to her to back down from those who pushed her.
It was a refreshing break from most of the women he spent his time with.
Miss Alden pushed a tendril of loose hair behind her ear before adjusting the loose pins. “I am very much a lady, thank you.”
“Name your wager, Miss Alden, and I will be kind enough to forget your status as a lady.”
Her full lips twitched. “Fine, if you can do a waltz with a book on your head, without it falling off—”
“And without your sabotage—” he interjected.
“And without my sabotage, then you may have a prize. Perhaps I will sketch you. The young ladies you are interested in would likely love to have a portrait of you to moon over.”
“I should think that there are very few young women mooning over me.” He placed the book on top of his head, allowing it to slide once more.
There was a clearly calculating look in Miss Aldens’s gaze. She thought this would be an easy wager to win.
Felix clutched the book tighter. “I do not want the sketch.”
She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated with him. “What do you wish for then, Your Grace?”
“If I prove to you that waltzing is nothing more than a child learning to walk, you shall go on a promenade with a suitor. And you will be pleasant and friendly on that promenade.”
“I am always friendly,” she snapped before she started laughing. “Perhaps that was not so, but you bring out the worst in me.”
“Your worst is more horrific than the angry old goose that used to bite me when I was a child,” he teased, his cheeks aching from the smile that stretched them.
Felix could not remember the last morning he had spent during which he had been so amused. He would have to inform Stanton that he was growing rather boring.
Stanton would be thrilled to hear it and would only delight in making Felix’s existence more complicated. His friend would do everything possible to liven up Felix’s life. Felix half-suspected Stanton would rope Edith into his antics and start the hunt for Felix’s future wife.
Miss Alden shook head. She was still looking at him with wide eyes, her lips parted slightly with disbelief. “You just called me an angry old goose.”
“No, I simply compared you to one.”
She smothered her smile, but he could still see the hint of it playing around the corners of her eyes and mouth. “I will be friendly and kind on a promenade with a suitor if you can waltz without dropping that book.”
“It’s a wager.” He grinned as Evangeline returned to the drawing room. “You will play a waltz for myself and Miss Alden, will you not?
Evangeline’s eyes shone with a good-natured humor. “I had come to collect the sheet music, but I suppose I could play a song or two.”
Felix smirked as he bowed low to Miss Alden. “May I have this dance?”
Isabelle hated the way her cheeks warmed as she slipped her hand into his. She hadn’t thought to wear gloves when she arrived for her lesson and now sorely regretted that mistake. Felix’s palm was rough against hers, his callouses brushing her soft skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
He held the book until Evangeline was sitting behind the piano, her fingers poised above the keys. As soon as she began to play, he put the book on his head. With a cheeky smile, he placed his hand on Isabelle’s waist and mimicked the steps Isabelle had practiced.
She still could not believe that she had been following a gentleman’s steps. If she had gone to the ball and done such a thing, she would have been the talk of the debutantes and their mothers the next morning.
She wished that the Duke was not so perfect in his movements.
Each step made it seem as though they were floating on air while he led her around the room.
Her heart raced as he swept her past the big windows that overlooked the garden.
Felix hummed along with the tune as he danced, the book remaining steady as he looked down at her.
“Have you seen enough, Miss Alden, or perhaps you would like me to do the quadrille as well.”
“Very well. You have won your wager.”
“We have not yet finished the waltz.” He spun Isabelle beneath his arm and pulled her back to him.
She blushed hard as she stumbled over her feet, one hand landing on his chest to steady herself. She pulled it back as though she had been burned. “I think you have made your point quite clearly. You are a far better dancer than I could ever hope to be.”