Chapter Eight #3
They found the rest of Oliver’s family waiting just inside the room.
As usual, Kitty’s mother put herself at the center of the conversation by launching into a commentary on Lady Swaffham’s chosen decor.
Lady Diana and Arabella slipped in a few complimentary comments, but Kitty felt a growing pain behind her eyes as she listened to the mostly one-sided discussion.
At long last, their hostess announced the start of the dancing. Tim led his wife onto the dance floor while Oliver turned and held out a hand to her. “May I claim your first?”
“Of course.” His hand felt firm, and she could feel the warmth through their gloves.
Kitty and Oliver joined Tim and Arabella, and two couples she did not recognize, to create a set for a quadrille.
The first notes from the string quartet rang out and one of the unfamiliar couples started by taking three steps forward and then back.
They then stepped forward again, clasped hands, and spun until they had returned to their original spots.
Soon the entire quartet of couples found themselves twirling, switching partners, and finding their spots again.
The second time Oliver stepped past, he leaned in and whispered, “I find Quadrilles to be a frustrating dance.”
“How so?” Kitty replied during his next pass.
When they once again found themselves next to each other, Oliver answered. “They make conversation nearly impossible.”
“At least without six witnesses,” Kitty acknowledged as she spun away from him yet again.
“And yet, people will comment,” Oliver noted the next time they were close enough to speak.
“If we do not speak at all,” Kitty finished.
“Which is why most couples discuss the weather,” Tim commented as he stepped forward, confirming they had an audience.
The dance continued for several minutes before Oliver spoke again. “I find our current weather most pleasant.”
Kitty held back a laugh. In truth, the weather all day had been dreary with intermittent rain showers. “I’m so glad.”
When the first dance came to a close, Oliver led her from the floor. “Would you mind joining me on the veranda?” he whispered. “We could converse more easily away from the crush.”
“Converse? Is that why gentlemen take ladies onto the veranda during a ball?” Kitty grimaced when she realized she’d spoken aloud. At least her mother was across the room conversing with Lady Diana.
“I promise to be on my best behavior.” Oliver’s voice held a touch of amusement. “And to stay within sight of the door.”
After considering for a moment, she claimed his elbow and allowed him to lead her out of the open doors. The cool night air hit them, and she felt as much as heard Oliver take a deep breath. “Do you not enjoy dancing?”
He paused for a moment, as if considering how much to share. “I do not enjoy crowds of people. Particularly strangers.”
“I used to enjoy socializing,” Kitty admitted, surprised at her own forthrightness. “But the last two years have ruined it for me.”
“Your mother’s matchmaking?” Oliver asked in a soft voice.
Kitty nodded as she leaned against the balustrade. After several minutes of listening to the music waft from the house, she spoke again. “There is one saving grace of our feigned courtship.”
“Oh?”
She turned towards Oliver and gave him a wry smile. “I’ve not been introduced to a single dissolute younger son of a viscount since returning to London.”
Oliver chuckled. “Happy to be of service.”
Unwilling to let their escape end, Kitty searched for another topic of conversation. “Are you reading anything of note?”
“Memoirs of the Marquis of Torcy,” he replied, before continuing in an overly serious tone. “It is remarkably dull.”
“Then why read it?”
“I found it in my uncle’s library and wanted to practice my written French,” Oliver explained. “Based on the appearance of the aged leather cover, I think it must have belonged to my grandfather. Or perhaps his father.”
“I have recently had a great deal of time to read, and access only to my father’s London collection,” Kitty admitted. “I’ve read several volumes that would not have been my first choice.”
They spent several minutes discussing the most painful books they’d ever read.
Most of Oliver’s examples had been assignments for school, but he’d once read a collection of fifty-year-old political letters on a dare from Tim.
Kitty did not have nearly as many examples.
She read what she wished and little else.
The discussion reminded her of their time in the circulating library in Whickfield.
Only this time, there was no confusion as to the identity of the man next to her.
“Besides your library, what do you enjoy?” Kitty asked, wishing to broaden their conversation.
“I enjoy being out of doors,” he explained, “particularly on horseback.”
Before Kitty could ask another question, her mother stepped into the open doorway. Drat, they’d been caught. Kitty met Oliver’s gaze, hoping he would understand her next words. “I too enjoy horses, but my mother does not ride.” She then nodded in farewell and followed her mother back into the ball.