Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Instinct, habit, and repetition took over as the cheerful tune filled the music room, thawing Frances out of her frozen state. She curtseyed gracefully to Dominic, who bowed in return.
And then, they were dancing.
A lively hop to the right and a skip to the left, before turning around in a neat circle. That was the easy part, as they leaped into a quick succession of hops: forward, back, left, right.
Frances was already breathless before they had even begun, thanks to her sudden rush of nerves, but what little breath she had left was swept away by the majesty of Dominic.
He did not merely dance; he danced perfectly. Not just going through the steps, either, but performing them with a natural aptitude, an elegance, a flair that one would not necessarily have expected from such a tall and muscular man.
“You must… remember not to… anticipate too much!” Frances called out, for this was supposed to be a lesson. Even if, for a moment, she wished they were alone.
The couple glided forward to meet each other, their opposite arms curving upward, their fingertips almost meeting. Frances could feel a crackle in the air where they nearly touched, a tiny bolt of lightning that ricocheted down into her chest, where it made her heart beat even harder.
And when Dominic drew back again, it was a wrench, keenly felt.
“You should… talk during closer moments,” Frances explained thickly, needing the next step to bring her back into the duke’s proximity.
“You should not be so out of breath so early in a dance,” Hugo quipped, his words conjuring the ghost of a smirk upon Dominic’s lips. “Usually, you do have breath enough to answer a gentleman’s questions, and for him to answer yours.”
If she had not already been fighting to keep her composure, Frances might have shot an angry look at Hugo. Instead, she refused to glance in his direction at all, fearful that he might see something on her face, in her expression, in her red-cheeked complexion that she did not want him to see.
She could not, however, avoid looking at Dominic. A pity, when he was the last person that she wanted to see what might be written all over her face. All she could do was pray that he was too distracted by the beetroot hue of her to consider why she was so feverish, so flustered.
“She had to drag my father here,” Harriet replied in Frances’ defense. “Of course, she is out of breath.”
The girl seemed more relaxed now, standing between Lord Ainsley and his sister. Her words made Frances smile, bolstering her determination to perform well as she and Dominic surged toward each other once more, stopping just short of an improper distance.
Their palms met to form an arch, and though she wore her silk gloves, she could feel the heat of Dominic’s hands: the kind one might want to hold on a chilly winter’s day.
“This is where other dancers would pass through,” Frances said, her breath steadying as she counted the beats in her head and tried very hard not to keep thinking of holding Dominic’s hand on a winter’s day.
As it came to what would have been their turn to dance through a tunnel of arched arms, Dominic held her hands more tightly than he, perhaps, should have, and crossed one arm over the other. In a lively promenade, standing side by side, they danced forward.
Oh goodness…
She gulped as her hand knocked into the hard ridges of his abdomen, her hip bumping into his thigh, wondering if she had always been this clumsy.
Indeed, when they came to the end of the room, it was a bittersweet parting, for she found that she did not want to let go of his hands, but if she did not, she would never be able to catch her breath and gather herself.
Nevertheless, the dance commanded them to part ways, each one skipping down the opposite side to where they had started, pretending there were two lines of other dancers there.
Then, they were together again, palm to palm, turning in a slow circle.
Frances’ eyes locked with Dominic’s, and it was as if they were alone, the spectators fading into the background, as the air in the room seemed to thicken.
She would be breathless again in seconds, and she found she did not care.
She just wanted to stay there, in the midst of the dance, with him. A feeling so sudden and overwhelming that she did not know what to do with it.
“Have you enjoyed your evening?” Dominic asked quietly, resisting the urge to slide his fingers between hers as their palms stayed flush together, each turn they made somehow bringing them closer to each other.
He had not meant to say anything, intending to let the dance finish and be done with it, but as it had gone on, he had found himself wanting to seize the opportunity to talk to her.
To be the one beside her, engaging her in conversation, making her laugh; to hold the position he had envied at the dinner table.
Frances looked so beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, as she moved gracefully to the rhythm of the music. How could he not behave as a gentleman should, when dancing with an eligible lady? Indeed, his mind was playing tricks, making him feel as if he really was at a ball with her.
Her green eyes twinkled as she held his gaze, her cheeks flushed, her skin radiant. “It has been… a surprise of the loveliest kind.”
“You thought it might fail?”
A soft laugh escaped her throat. “I did not know if the guests would be so willing to play along, as I did not know who the guests might be.” She paused. “Your cousin chose well.”
Do not speak of him. Do not speak of other men. He bit down the remark, troubled that such a thought had crept into his head.
Why should she not speak of other gentlemen?
Why should she not charm them? Why should she not use such a night as this to cast her net, for a fortuitous marriage would certainly rescue her from her scandal?
And had he not recently pestered Hugo to find himself a wife?
Hugo could do far worse than Frances, though Frances certainly deserved better.
He shook off the bothersome questions and thoughts, for he wished to enjoy what was left of the dance. After all, there might never be such a chance again.
“Has it made you reconsider having more gatherings here?” she asked, as if eager for him to speak again.
He laughed in the back of his throat. “It has not.”
“Lord Ainsley mentioned there was something of a to-do the last time there was a party here,” she said, pausing. “A hunting party, at least.”
“Lord Ainsley?” Dominic frowned.
“The gentleman over there. The one who was seated next to me at dinner,” Frances replied.
Dominic cast a glance toward the spectators, a twist of irritation catching him in the stomach.
It was the same gentleman who had made Frances laugh with such ease; the one who had conjured up the feeling that Dominic had never experienced in his life.
Envy. Or perhaps its cousin: jealousy. He was unfamiliar with both, so he could not be sure.
“I cannot recall him,” he said gruffly. “But I recall the occasion. Hugo is still apologizing for it.”
She laughed, and all of those unpleasant sensations and unwelcome feelings vanished in an instant. His hand closed tighter around hers in response, his heart feeling rather strange in his chest.
“What happened?” she asked, her smile making her glow, as if illuminated from within. And those eyes… how they sparkled with mirth.
He shook his head. “It cannot be repeated. It is bad enough that Harriet was here when the mischief took place; I would not regale you with all of their antics.” He paused, watching as disappointment crossed her face, dimming her glow.
“There was a great deal of brandy involved… and a lot of terrible singing. Terrible, loud singing.”
Her laughter bubbled up again and that radiance returned with a vengeance, an odd relief sweeping through him.
To think that I might have missed this, if I had refused…
After dinner, he had been in no mood to continue entertaining the guests.
They had wanted a tour of the manor, so he had given that role to Hugo, while he had retreated to his study to gather his thoughts and have a stern word with himself.
The last thing he had wanted to do was get roped into a dance lesson.
Once again, he had succumbed to Frances’ earnest plea, though he had told himself he would not do so again. Yet, for now at least, he could not say he regretted it.
“Did they actually hunt anything?” she asked, grinning.
In the span of one dance, each step seemed to have brought down the guard she had raised since her arrival.
When she first came to Alderwick, he could not have imagined her like this, smiling and laughing in his company, apparently unafraid of being so close to him.
Indeed, she did not seem to mind at all that they were rather closer than they were supposed to be.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?” He leaned in slightly. “They shot one pigeon, and that was by accident.”
Her laughter was intoxicating, so hearty and musical that he would have happily listened to it all evening. And as they swept back and forth, continuing the steps of the dance, she looked like a woman with no troubles at all. Free. At ease with herself and the manor she had ended up in.
Then, the music faded to a close, and her amusement ebbed with it.
For a moment, she almost looked dazed, as if she had forgotten where she was, glancing around in something like panic. He would not have dared assume what she was feeling but he, too, had forgotten himself for a while.
Now, as the last notes played, reality came hurtling back, punctuated by the sound of rapturous applause. Led, of course, by Hugo and his never-ending enthusiasm.
“If it is not as accomplished as that, do not bother with it,” Hugo told Harriet loudly. “Leave a man in the middle of the dance floor, in the middle of a set, if he cannot be as graceful and capable as my cousin.”
Frances gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “No, Harriet, do not do that! Unless the man is rude or uncouth, you must never leave in the middle of a set.”
At that moment, Dominic could have smacked his cousin for the interruption. Frances barely sketched a curtsy before she was on her way back to her student, pulling Harriet to the side to reiterate the rules of dancing.
Either that, or Frances had seen an excuse to get away from Dominic as quickly and politely as possible, and had leaped at it.
“I should find the rest of the party before they make themselves too comfortable,” he said abruptly.
Without waiting for a response, without stealing another glance at Frances, he left the music room. And as he went in search of the other guests, he told himself that Hugo’s interruption had, in fact, been timed perfectly, serving as a reminder that he should not forget himself again.