Chapter Ten
A Dancing Lesson
Inside her chamber, Fiona hastily discarded the cherry-red spencer and threw her bonnet on the bed, smoothing down the toile muslin of her skirts. She was reluctant to bother Betty, who probably tended to Valentina anyway.
She went to the mirror and redid a pin or two in the loose knot of hair gathered at the nape of her neck. What if she did not meet the earl’s expectations as a pupil? Sharing the intimacy of a dance could prove awkward and uncomfortable even in the best of circumstances.
With no small trepidation, she headed to the music room and heard a lilting tune.
Miss Ernest was at the piano, and the earl sat in an armchair by the fire.
No other family members were present. Whether this was their choice or his, she was glad of it.
She dreaded fumbling her steps in front of an audience.
He stood at her entrance, and Miss Ernest paused the music.
“Miss Rafferty.” The earl walked to the center of the spacious room. A blue-and-gold Persian rug that usually covered the hardwood floor lay rolled up by the door.
He had changed from his driving attire to nankeen breeches and an indigo frock coat, both flawlessly tailored to his impressive form. The waistcoat underneath was of subtle striped silk in the same dark blue and cerulean.
“Mother sent word that your dress arrived. It’s been brought to your room.”
“Thank you. Is-is anyone coming to watch us?”
“No. I thought you might like privacy at first. After supper, we will invite the others, and perhaps we can all practice together.” He raised an eyebrow. “There is no objection? I’ve noticed you don’t battle my decisions when they suit you, Miss Rafferty. Yet, I’m a dictator when they do not?”
She caught the gleam of humor in his eyes, and her face grew warm. Whether it was embarrassment at the accurate reading of her emotions, or noticing that his eyes were neither blue nor gray, but an intriguing combination of both, she wasn’t sure.
“We will do better when you realize that my resolutions are generally sound.”
There was no good response to this advice. She could say the same about her opinions.
“Let’s start with a country dance. They’re performed in a line, with partners facing each other. You simply mirror the movements of the person opposite, even if your partner changes. The quadrille is very similar in style but performed by sets of four people. I’ll start with the most common steps.”
He demonstrated each component, most of which lasted four to eight bars of music.
Crossing Over, Set to Partners, Hands Around, Right and Left, and the Ladies Chain; she performed them repeatedly until he seemed satisfied.
She need not have worried about feeling awkward in his presence; the attempt to master the steps took all her concentration.
The earl was an excellent instructor and more patient with her mistakes than she would have guessed. Fiona soon relaxed and relied on his guidance and Miss Ernest’s excellent playing to keep time with the music. A good two hours passed before she felt comfortable with each movement.
“What of the waltz?” she asked as they paused to rest. “You took the trouble to secure permission, so I am anxious to discover what all the fuss is about.”
“The success of a waltz depends largely upon the skill of your partner. You would do well to stay with Denys or myself in that respect.” He stepped closer and put his arm lightly around her waist, lifting his right hand.
“Take my hand…like so,” his long fingers closed around hers, “and place your left upon my shoulder. It is a triple-meter dance, performed in unison. Play slowly, if you please, Miss Ernest.”
She caught the subtle scent of bergamot and cedar. Her breath fluttered; as close as they were, she sensed the heat radiating from his body. Fiona considered herself above average height, yet the earl stood a good four inches taller.
Beneath her fingers, she felt the play of sculpted muscles through his fine wool coat, and her breath caught in her throat. He was large and powerful, and so very male. What had she been thinking to dance alone with the earl? She kept her eyes on the intricate knots of his cravat.
“It is perfectly acceptable to look at me, you know.”
Fiona swallowed and raised her eyes to his. There were faint creases in the corners of his blue-gray eyes.
He led her counterclockwise in a slow, steady movement. She started as her skirt brushed his thighs. His closeness made her lightheaded…or perhaps it was just the whirling motion of the waltz.
“It is a box step, like so.” He demonstrated, turning a circle about the room, and after several revolutions, their steps matched. She began to relax, enjoying the rhythm of the dance and the earl’s skillful partnering.
When the music ended, they stood motionless. Lord Seldon continued to clasp her fingers, and the hand upon her waist pressed through the muslin of her dress like a brand. She shivered as his warm breath skimmed her cheek, then drifted next to her ear.
“Excellent, Miss Rafferty,” he murmured.
Nervelessly, her hand fell from the earl’s shoulder and slipped to his broad chest. She heard a swift intake of breath, and his hands fell from her waist as he stepped back, bowing formally.
She curtsied. “Thank you, my lord. Your instruction is excellent.”
“Perhaps it is time to exchange first names.” He smiled faintly. “We have, after all, waltzed together.”
“Lord Richard…” She hesitated; the very English name sounded faintly exotic in her light brogue.
Something flared in his eyes, gone so quickly she might have imagined it. He inclined his head and strode to the door.
Dinner that night was a festive affair, and all agreed that the goose with cherry sauce was excellent.
Lady Amelia and Valentina, in high spirits, chattered endlessly about the coming ball.
Madame Brigitte had sent both ball gowns and Lady Amelia declared that there were no two finer dresses to be seen in London.
After describing both in detail to the earl, who listened with remarkable forbearance, she glanced over at Fiona, who had barely spoken during dinner.
“Is something wrong, my dear? Are you not feeling well?”
Fiona started at the question, lost in her thoughts, and unfortunately, they centered around the waltz with Lord Richard. Could she actually be attracted to her thoroughly annoying guardian? The surprising reaction to his proximity was difficult to decipher, and she had little experience with men.
There had been a mild flirtation and a few stolen kisses from an older boy at the conservatory, but he finished his studies and departed for England to pursue teaching. She recalled her racing heart and the fluttering in her stomach better than his face.
“I apologize for my inattention, Lady Amelia. If I practice late in the evenings, would that disturb anyone?”
“Of course not, dear; play as often as you like. It will not affect me, even if I am abed. Richard?”
“I am usually in the library or my study, but you will find the walls quite thick in this house,” he responded.
The footmen cleared their dinner plates and brought a tray of strawberries, pears, and oranges with wedges of cheese. Where on earth did one get fresh fruit in late February?
“How did your dancing lesson go, Fiona?” Valentina asked. “I do hope we can all practice after dinner. Richard is an excellent partner; the ladies swoon to dance with him.”
Her brother peeled an orange, his long fingers making quick work of the fruit. “You flatter me, Valentina.”
“Stuff! We know you never dance half as much as you might. It is a wonder that he agreed to instruct you, Fiona. Was it beneficial?”
“Quite,” she replied. “I expect not to step on more than a dozen toes.”
Octavia giggled. “Can I dance too? Please, Richard?
“We shall set up a country dance and allow Miss Rafferty the opportunity to practice with multiple partners,” he promised.
The earl broke off a segment of fruit and offered it to Octavia.
She consumed it with relish and afterward, he pointed to her discarded napkin.
“I shall not hold sticky fingers to dance, Octavia.”
“Will you waltz with me?” she asked, wiping her hands with enthusiasm. “I want to learn. Valentina says it is all the rage.”
Lord Richard rose from the table. “I shall. Ladies, I am going to my apartments to relax. Shall we meet in an hour at the piano?”
At the appointed time, Fiona met the others and practiced line dances and the quadrille for over an hour.
She acquitted herself credibly but didn’t come close to matching the skill of her partners, even young Octavia.
Lord Richard took Valentina, then Octavia for a turn around the room in the waltz.
She couldn’t help but admire the mastery of his partnering.
He was confident, yet courteous, and his movements were supple and elegant.
He approached her and bowed formally, offering his hand. Fiona stood and curtsied, determined to remain poised and cool. But the minute his fingers settled on her waist, her pulse skittered. She fixed her gaze beyond his shoulder and concentrated on her steps, avoiding eye contact.
“Well done,” said Lady Amelia, clapping as they finished. “I can scarcely credit that this is only your second practice. However, it’s well past Octavia’s bedtime. Please take her upstairs, and thank you for the fine accompaniment, Miss Ernest.”
Octavia mouthed a silent please to her brother, who laughed and shook his head. “Enough excitement for one evening, Scamp.”
Looking very woebegone, Octavia followed Miss Ernest out of the room.
Lady Amelia settled back against the sofa cushions. “Would you play for us now, my dear? Something romantic, I think.”
She sat down at the piano and flexed her fingers.
After a few arpeggios to loosen up, she fingered the lovely notes of a Schubert étude.
She looked up to catch the earl watching her with an intensity she could not decipher and nearly dropped a note.
Devil take the man, why did he throw her off balance?
When she finished playing, Lord Richard rose and kissed Lady Amelia’s forehead affectionately.
“I mentioned meeting Denys at Watier’s tonight and must send him an apology. Do you have plans tomorrow, Mother?”
She reached up to touch his lean cheek with a tender smile. “Nothing definite, but I thought of a trip to the circulating library. I’m anxious to see if they have Louisa Stanhope’s latest novel. And Octavia has begged me to take her before she leaves for Bath.”
“She’s going away?” Fiona was disappointed to see Octavia leave, and surprised at how quickly she had become fond of the sisters.
“She is going to see my sister in Bath tomorrow for a week or two. Charlotte has been begging me to let her visit.”
“Don’t worry, Fiona, she is far from bereft,” Valentina said. “Octavia has Aunt Charlotte wound around her little finger. She loves it there because her cousin is the same age, and they run wild over the countryside. Aunt Charlotte indulges them both terribly.”
“I cannot decide whose influence is worse…Jerome, or my nephew,” Richard said. “The last time Octavia returned from Bath, she brought home two pet spiders.”
Valentina shuddered. “I shall never forget the sight of them crawling across my bed. Please don’t bring anything home, Octavia! Mama, after we visit the library, may we stop at Sutton’s? There’s a bonnet in the window that will match my green crepe dress perfectly.”
Fiona couldn’t summon the same enthusiasm for shopping as Valentina and Lady Amelia. “May I stay home to practice?”
“Of course, my dear. We shall bring a book for you if you like,” Lady Amelia offered.
“I am expected at Jackson’s in the morning to box, but afterward I thought I might take Fiona for a ride along Rotten Row.” The earl raised an eyebrow. “I have an excellent mount or two that would suit you. Are you game? You mentioned your riding was tolerable…is it up to the mark?”
“You will soon find out, my lord,” she retorted.
He smiled. “Then I shall have a horse brought around…say, twelve thirty? Valentina, would you join us?”
His sister shuddered. “No, thank you. I am no rider, and it would not be to my advantage to be seen in a spill. But, Fiona, you must go. Hyde Park has excellent paths, and you can meet the entire ton on Rotten Row.”
“All of them at once?” Fiona smiled. “Then I must prepare to be under the microscope once more, I suppose.”