Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Your Grace," Laroux said from the doorway, his expression professionally neutral as Riles offered different colors of cravat for Hector to choose from. "Her Grace awaits in the ballroom."
Hector turned slightly, a haunted expression on his face. "Daenae just stand there, man, help me!"
"Help you with what, Your Grace?" Laroux said innocently. "Are you being beset by neckties?"
"I just want to have a decision on which is the best color for dancing with my wife," Hector said, dodging Riles, who was approaching with something suspiciously salmon colored.
"I dinnae expect to be here half an hour later still decidin'.
I'm nay dandy, Riles, I want to be presentable, nae a fashion plate. "
The young man looked at him with wide, sincere eyes. "But, Your Grace, if we find the perfect combination then I am sure Her Grace will be pleased by how seriously we are taking the matter."
Was the lad as innocent and serious as he was making out? Hector stared at him suspiciously as Laroux entered the room and started going through the discarded items swiftly, selecting an outfit with an experienced eye.
"Here, Your Grace, this is quite appropriate."
"And very dashing," Riles added, unapologetically.
"Grand," Hector said dryly. "I'll change and be down to Her Grace in a moment. Can ye go tell her I am on me way, Riles?"
"Are you sure you do not want me to stay and help you dress, Your Grace?"
"Nay, lad, I can manage. Off ye go now."
Riles hurried off finally, and Laroux allowed himself a small smile, which Hector knew he had been meant to see, or he would never have caught him at it. "I have to say, I have never met a young man quite so enthusiastic about the vagaries of fashion, Your Grace."
"Is he doin' it on purpose or is he serious?" Hector asked, buttoning his shirt swiftly and tying his cravat in a quick, simple knot. "I cannae tell anymore."
"I think he may have been encouraged to ensure that you put effort into your dress for this lesson," Laroux said, expression guileless enough that Hector knew exactly who it was who had made this encouragement.
"We are all keen to see Her Grace charmed by your attentions, Your Grace.
Taking care with your dress will show her how seriously you are taking her efforts.
I am sure you want her to feel respected, do you not? "
"Of course I do," Hector said sternly, pulling on his waistcoat. "She's a braw lass, and deserves all the respect in the world."
"And would you have worn finery if not encouraged by the young lad's enthusiastic insistence?"
Hector paused, dragging his hair back from his face with one hand. "Maybe."
They both knew that was a lie. He would have worn as simple a costume as he could have, if left to his own devices.
"Of course, Your Grace," Laroux said politely. "May I straighten your cravat?"
"If ye must," Hector said with a rueful smile. "Next time, daenae encourage the lad; he talked at me for ten minutes about the intentions behind a particular shade of blue."
"Of course, Your Grace," Laroux said smugly, tidying his cravat. "And may I say, you look particularly dashing."
Hector raised an eyebrow, glancing in the mirror. He still looked like an overdressed bull, but so long as it pleased Alexandra, he supposed he could bear with it. "Time to learn how to dance like the sassenachs do," he said with a grin.
"Good fortune to you, Your Grace," Laroux said with a pleased smile. Hector nodded and headed towards the ballroom, wondering if perhaps they should give Riles the opportunity to learn from a tailor or a fashion designer. The lad was enthusiastic to a degree that seemed wasted on a valet.
He entered the ballroom itself quickly, eager to begin the afternoon's event, and paused on the threshold.
Alexandra was standing in the empty ballroom speaking softly with one of the footmen, a young fellow who had a fiddle in his hands and was gesturing with it avidly.
A few of the maids were finishing sweeping the floor a final time, and there was a fresh, clean scent to the room that brightened the spirit.
Alexandra herself was wearing a gown, something pale yellow and simple, which he hadn't seen before.
It set off her eyes and made her glow in the soft afternoon light.
In that moment, Hector knew that Riles and Laroux had been right.
If he had arrived in his shirtsleeves as was his instinct, then his wife would have been sorely disappointed.
The thought of disappointing her cut him to the heart. Thank God for the enthusiastic lad and his passion for color.
"Are ye ready for me, wife?" he asked, crossing the room towards her and smiling as she turned, her expression brightening. What he had done to put that look on her face, he didn't quite know, but he knew he wanted to do it over and over again. "I havenae come too soon, have I?"
"Not at all, husband," she said, beaming at him and waving off the young man to a corner of the room.
"Mrs. Hopsted told me that young Barnes is capable with a fiddle so he has agreed to provide some music for our lessons.
I have asked Jenny and Gracie to stand in for the placement of other couples when we get to the quadrilles, but I thought we could start with a waltz? "
"Whatever ye wish, me dear," Hector said, looking down at her pleased, flushed face. "Consider me completely at yer disposal."
"This is one of the Charles Ambrose collection," Alexandra said, placing herself at a position of the floor. "There would be several other couples on the dance floor, but it's easy enough to learn just our part for it. Come, stand opposite me."
Hector grinned at her cheerfully demanding tone.
What a fascinating teacher she was going to be.
He crossed to stand in front of her. He had seen enough dances at this time to know that the English and their high society acted as though couples could be no closer to each other than a full arm's reach, so he stood close, smiling innocently down at her from his height.
Her eyes were bright and alive, her freckles making her face look sun-kissed and a little wild.
"Like this?"
"My dear, no!" she laughed a little and stepped a few steps back. "Never so close. Like this."
"Ah, like this."
"Yes," she nodded over to Barnes, who raised his fiddle. "Now, we advance, there will be another couple advancing to us as well. Like this," she gracefully moved to the side with a light step.
The music started, and Hector copied her movements as best as he could. His step was a little too clumsy to match her practiced elegance, but she seemed delighted and grinned at him in pleasure. "You are a quick study, my husband."
"Perhaps I have a very adept teacher, lass," he said with a smile.
He had moved closer again, and she stepped back once more before demonstrating the next movement - a half circle that would bring them to the place of the other couple.
They passed close to each other, palms touching, and then returned to a few steps apart.
It was not hard to pick up, though he doubted he would ever be particularly good at it.
It was rather like a slow version of a ceilidh, lacking the spirit and vigor of a good highland reel.
However, with Alexandra, he felt he could see the appeal, the soft touch of her palm on his more electric every time they passed.
"Now, we make a loop around the other dancers," she was saying as their palms touched once more and he took her hand in his own, spinning them in a circle. "Your Grace! No! This is unseemly!"
He stopped, again close to her and smiled. "Sorry, me dear, I couldnae resist the music and yer hand in mine."
"Husband," Alexandra was a little disheveled, with a few delicate strands of hair curling on her face, and a bright color painting her cheeks. "That is not how the dance goes."
"Shouldnae I be followin' the music?" Hector asked innocently. "It felt like the right thing to do at the moment."
"Not at all. We do not hold hands in this waltz.
We spin without touching, circling around the other couples.
" She had her hands on her hips and looked so exactly like a teacher trying to get a wayward class to behave that he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing. "Your Grace, do attend!"
"I am drinkin' in every word ye are saying, wife, I promise ye."
She stopped, a little taken aback, and then returned to her place. "Let us start again."
They went through the whole movement again, this time spinning around the imaginary other dancers without issue. Hector moved a little closer to her, smelling the sweetness of her fragrance and longing to take her in his arms the way a husband should be able to with a wife.
"We are too close again," Alexandra said, looking up at him.
They were close enough that he could feel her warmth, almost touching.
He was leaning over her, capturing every detail about her, all the beauty of her, the flecks of blue in her green eyes, the little golden hairs amongst her beautiful, dark mane.
"You must remember not to stand so close, Hector. "
"Och should I?" Hector said, bending a little closer, their faces so near to each other that there was an indescribable tenderness in his heart from it. "I have to say, me wife, ye daenae seem to mind all that much."
"I do mind, it is quite antithetical to my lessons!"
She didn't move. Neither did he. Being caught by her gaze felt like drowning.
"Ye are blushing, lass," he said softly, almost a whisper. "Yer feelings are painted across yer whole face."
She flushed even harder and ducked her head, taking her gaze from him.
That was unacceptable. Hector reached out and touched her cheek lightly with one hand, gently encouraging her to look back up at him.
He could see her chest rising and falling in short gasps and felt the same breathlessness himself.
What magical spell was she casting over him?
It was more potent than a full bottle of wine.
"Your Grace -"
Alexandra barely heard the shout from the door.
She thought vaguely that it might be Laroux, something about the distinctive accent.
But she couldn't bring herself to look away from Hector, from this strange, unearthly moment that they were sharing.
It felt as though her heart was a bird trying to take wing from her chest.
"Your Grace, I am sorry to interrupt but there is an urgent message for you! You must come at once!"
Reality came crashing through the fragile moment between touch and an embrace that they had been caught in.
Alexandra realized that they were touching, leaning towards each other, that the servants in the room had seen her, that Laroux was looking at this, and a cold panic washed the magic from her veins.
She startled hard, pulling back, but Hector placed a large hand on her arm gently, soothing her like he might soothe a wild colt.
"What is it, Laroux?" he asked. His eyes were still on her face, keeping her attention on him, helping her focus. "We are occupied."
"It is Winters, Your Grace," Laroux said. Alexandra thought for a moment that he sounded aggrieved, perhaps apologetic. "He said you would want to speak to him, that his news cannot wait."
Hector frowned a little, the unusual expression marring his usually good-natured brow. "Thank you. I shall meet him in a moment. Take him to my study."
"Yes, Your Grace," Laroux said.
Alexandra thought perhaps he had left, but she could not be sure. The only thing keeping her from fleeing the room in embarrassment and confusion was the gentle touch of Hector's hand on her arm and the warmth in his eyes.
"I must go," he said softly. "We will continue with this later. It is nae that these lessons are nae important, me dear. This matter is urgent."
He seemed so anxious for her to understand that it made her head spin all the more. No man had ever apologized to her for the impact their actions had on her plans before. It was always understood that men's business was more important, that nothing she could have wanted would ever be the same.
Yet Hector was apologizing for leaving, trying to ensure she knew he prized her effort.
"I see," she said softly.
"Daenae trouble yerself, Alexandra," he said gently, stepping back from her.
She felt the lack of his soothing presence immediately, but she was still finding it so hard to breathe steadily that the space helped a little.
"I will manage the trouble and ye will nae have to be bothered by it. I shall be back with ye soon."
"Be careful," she said automatically. She wasn't even sure if it was a necessary warning, if he was in fact dealing with something dangerous instead of a simple business matter.
Still, he smiled at her words, so she was glad that she said them.
He turned and left the ballroom with giant strides, and air rushed back into her lungs as he closed the door behind him.
What was that? What - how did he make me feel like that? Alexandra moved to one of the chairs at the side of the room and sat, ignoring how the maids milled awkwardly. Perhaps it would have been kinder to reassure them, but she could barely reassure herself at the moment.
Was it just Hector's presence that affected her like this? She had certainly never felt anything so strong or overwhelming in the company of anyone else. What would that mean for them if he had that sort of power over her senses? What would it mean for her, for her safety?
"Your Grace?" It was Margot. Perhaps Laroux had sent her, or perhaps she was always carefully waiting somewhere just in case she was needed. "Can I bring you some tea in the drawing room?"
Alexandra nodded, pathetically grateful for the direction. "Yes. I think that is for the best. His Grace is likely too busy to continue this today. Thank you, Jenny, Gracie, Barnes. We will pick the lessons back up another day."
As she strode from the room, trying to seem as unbothered and put together as always, Alexandra couldn't brush off the overwhelming thought that had somehow burrowed its way into her mind. What if she was beginning to have feelings for her husband?