Chapter 26 #2
Even the floor—all of it from wall to wall—had been chalked with an intricate floral design by professional “chalkers” (Phinn had had no idea such a job existed, but Frobisher had insisted it was necessary).
While Smedley and Mrs. Aldershot had complained that the chalk dust would be almost impossible to remove from the cracks in the floorboards, Frobisher had declared that it was the height of sophistication to have a ballroom floor decorated in such a fashion.
It was definitely a must-have for a soirée.
Phinn was frozen too as he took in the wonder of Miss Hermina Davenport in a pretty rose-patterned gown—a gown that displayed a surprising amount of her glorious cleavage.
If he were a perfect gentleman, he wouldn’t have let his attention drift to the twin smooth-as-cream mounds rising above the froth of white lace at the bodice’s sweeping neckline.
But he wasn’t perfect—he was a man who was utterly entranced by a chestnut-haired siren whose hazel-hued eyes he’d quite happily drown in.
“Lord Kinsale,” Miss Davenport breathed at last. Her gaze met his across the room. “This … this is magnificent. You’ve turned the ballroom into a-a garden. It’s-it’s beautiful.”
Not as beautiful as you. The words hovered on the tip of Phinn’s tongue, but he didn’t let them loose. Not because he was stuck in a moment of stammering. He was simply aware that there were two children, his valet, a pair of footmen, not to mention his dog, all watching them.
Aloud he said, “As you know, Miss Davenport, I’m not one for entertainin’ much.
Well, not at all if I’m bein’ perfectly honest. But it seems a …
seems a shame not to use this room for its intended pur-purpose.
I know it’s technically still your … your day off, but”—Phinn drew a calming breath to quell the sudden rush of tightness in his chest—“I was hopin’ you might agree to dance with me.
” He grinned. “O’ course I don’t know how to waltz—at least not yet—but if you wouldn’t mind shufflin’ around the floor with me, I might be able to manage that without steppin’ on your toes.
Just for the fun o’ it … Before dinner … ?”
When Miss Davenport didn’t say anything, Phinn gestured toward the pianoforte. “Frobisher”—the valet sent the governess a little finger wave—“has agreed to play for us.”
Miss Davenport stared at Phinn for a moment longer and then her lovely mouth lifted into a smile that made Phinn’s heart caper as though he’d already begun to dance.
“My goodness. I’m fairly flabbergasted, my lord.
So please forgive my momentary inability to form a coherent response.
And of course I’d love to dance with you.
” Turning to the boys she said, “Tom and Christopher, you can help us stay in time if you like. Clap your hands, or stamp your feet, or skip about in time with the beat of the music. That way Lord Kinsale and I are less likely to misstep. And Brutus”—she sent the pug a warning look—“you may also bounce around the room however you like, but promise me you won’t get under our feet.
We don’t want anyone to end up with a sprained ankle or worse. ”
To Phinn’s surprise, the dog gave a yip as if he’d understood Miss Davenport perfectly and had quite happily agreed to comply with her direction.
Miss Davenport laughed, then looked at Frobisher. “Do you know Schumann’s ‘Of Foreign Lands and Peoples’? It’s quite slow and lyrical.” After Frobisher replied that yes, he did, she caught Phinn’s gaze. “I think it will be the right tempo to shuffle to. Or at the very least sway.”
Phinn chuckled. “You … you think I’m really going to be that bad?”
She shrugged a half-bared shoulder and her eyes sparkled. “My lord, you’re the one who keeps telling me that you cannot dance and that you’re afraid you’ll stand on my toes.”
Phinn winced. “I’ll do my best not to.”
Miss Davenport moved closer, and Phinn slid one hand around her waist, his palm resting lightly upon her back.
He could feel the stiff bones of her corset against his splayed fingers and he silently cursed all women’s underthings to Hades.
As he enfolded Miss Davenport’s right hand in his, she curled her other hand about his shoulder and he couldn’t suppress a surge of intense longing.
His natural instinct was to pull the beguiling governess into his arms, as close as could be, but decorum required they keep a little distance between their bodies.
Just as decorum required him not to ogle her impressive décolletage.
Which was no mean feat given the fact the pace of Miss Davenport’s breathing had increased even though they hadn’t begun to dance.
In fact, her breasts were rising and falling in the most delightful but distracting way.
Perhaps he wasn’t the only one affected by their close physical proximity.
And then Frobisher began to play the piano and Miss Davenport began to sway from side to side, as elegant as could be, with her skirts gently undulating with her movements, Phinn following her as best he could.
They swayed on the spot for a minute, and then she began to lead him in a small circle beneath the chandelier.
“Right, left. Step to the side. Right, left. Step to the side,” she gently instructed.
She smiled into his eyes. “That’s it, my lord. We’ll have you waltzing in no time.”
“I’m afraid I’m-I’m as stiff as a board,” he mumbled.
“Only a little,” she said. “You need to become looser in the hips. Imagine you’re dancing about a boxing ring, evading punches. Try to step lightly, bend your knees a fraction, and rock your hips from side to side. Like me.”
Gah. Miss Davenport talking about the rocking of hips, both his and hers, was not helping Phinn relax. If anything, he might even be growing stiffer. Then he sternly reminded himself that he and Miss Davenport were not alone.
Indeed, the boys were arm in arm, laughing and skipping merrily about the room raising small clouds of chalk dust, while Brutus was madly racing in circles around the perimeter of the ballroom as though he were chasing an imaginary rabbit. Surely the pug was growing giddy.
Although, Phinn would own that he was already a trifle giddy.
His head was awhirl with strong feelings that were all centered around the gorgeous woman in his arms. Aside from desire and the overwhelming urge to protect Mina Davenport from all things hurtful, there was admiration and an achingly sweet tenderness blooming inside his chest that was more than just a fond regard.
It was a warmth, a yearning, and a light buoyant sensation that was even more uplifting than the bright melody floating about them. It was … it was joy.
It felt right.
He studied Miss Davenport’s lovely countenance. “You’ve arranged your hair diff-differently,” he observed softly. “I-I like it.”
“You do?” she said, her cheeks pinkening to the same rosy hue as the blooms on her gown. “I thought it might be too much. It’s certainly not a regulation Parasol Academy style. Plain, simple, and practical is what I’m used to.”
“It’s your day off,” said Phinn firmly. “You should be able to dress how-however you like. Do whatever you like.” God, he hoped that kissing him might be on the list of things she liked.
After they’d finished dancing and had partaken of dinner, after Tom and Christopher had gone to bed, he wondered if Miss Davenport might permit him to kiss her again.
Not just to see if kissing helped lessen his stammering, but because he very much wanted to.
No, he needed to kiss Mina Davenport. He especially wanted to learn that this deep longing inside him wasn’t one-sided. It was probably “against Parasol Academy regulations,” but right now he didn’t give a flying fig about the Academy’s rules.
More than anything, he rather hoped Miss Davenport didn’t give a flying fig either. He supposed he would soon find out.