8. Chapter 8 #2
Still smiling, I lifted the hem of my gown and then stepped cautiously down the spiral staircase. It was full of cobwebs and dust, and once Ames lowered the trap door above our heads, it was as black as night.
My heart beat fast as I paused, my hand on the cool, cobweb-covered walls.
His footsteps fell behind me. “Lily?”
“Here.”
“Wait for me, and I’ll lead you to the right floor. This stairwell cuts through all four floors of the castle.”
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that I could see streams of light coming through the trap door above us and make out his figure as he paused behind me.
There was just enough space on the stairs for him to get around me. If I pressed against the wall, he could pass without touching me, but I could not bring myself to lean into the cobwebs.
My breath was shallow as his body pressed close to mine—and then he stopped, a couple steps below me, allowing our faces to be level.
He paused for a heartbeat, and I waited, but then he reached for my hand. “Be careful.”
His touch made me tremble as I followed him the rest of the way.
When we came to the door that entered the main part of the castle, he opened it and we were in the hallway outside our bedrooms. He let go of my hand, after we stepped into the corridor, and closed the secret door. It blended into the wainscotting almost seamlessly.
“How do you open it?” I asked.
He pushed a corner of it, and it sprung open again. “Like this.”
I stood for a moment, unsure what to say.
His gaze became intent and he took a step closer to me, lifting his hand—to my head.
“You have a cobweb in your hair,” he whispered, though there was no reason to be quiet.
I was motionless as he stood so close.
After removing the cobweb, he lowered his hand, and I lifted my gaze to his.
Neither of us moved or spoke.
The gong sounded down below, reverberating through the castle.
Ames took a step back and cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in the drawing room.”
And with those parting words, he turned and entered his room, leaving me alone in the hall.
Shaken and a little perplexed.
When I arrived in the Cedar drawing room forty minutes later, dressed in an evening gown, my hair devoid of cobwebs and styled in an elegant updo, all the Welby brothers were waiting for me.
Ames stood near the fireplace, his arm resting on the mantel as he looked into the flames.
Brant was seated on one sofa, while Collins and Everett were seated on another, and Davis sat in a chair in the corner, a book in hand.
Ames was wearing his evening attire that I’d seen on him in London, but his brothers were not wearing tailcoats.
They were dressed in the daytime formal frockcoats and trousers that they had worn to our wedding.
It wasn’t quite right for supper attire, but it was better than their work clothes.
And all of them were freshly shaved.
When I entered the room, Brant, Davis, Collins, and Everett rose from their seats and Ames turned away from the fireplace.
His gaze traveled the length of my body, as it had the night before in the music room.
Attraction simmered in the depths of his eyes.
I’d taken great pains with my appearance, now that I knew he thought I was beautiful, and had Molly pick out my most attractive evening gown.
Yards of silver silk draped over my hips and were gathered at the back into an intricate bustle, with fine pleats along the skirt that added motion and shimmer to my every step.
The bodice was snug around my corseted waist, and the elbow-length sleeves were trimmed with lace.
Mother had it commissioned by the House of Worth when we were in Paris before coming to London and it had cost a small fortune.
But the look in Ames’s eyes right now made it worth it.
“Good evening, Lily,” Brant said with an exaggerated bow. “Forgive the faux pas of our daytime attire. It’s the best we could do for now.”
“You all look wonderful,” I said. And they did. Each of them was just as handsome as the next.
When the dinner gong sounded again, Ames left the hearth and walked across the room, his gaze never wavering from me. “You look beautiful, Lily.”
It wasn’t simply his words—but the awareness I felt when I was near him—that made me believe he meant it. “Thank you.”
He offered me his arm, and we left the drawing room with his brothers to make our way to the dining room.
Freemont was in the dining room, bent over his cane. He did not even attempt to help but oversaw the two footmen, one from the previous evening and a new one we’d hired that day, as they served the meal.
Thankfully, all the Welby brothers remembered their manners—of which they had more than they originally let on—and we were able to enjoy a nice supper.
Ames met my gaze more than once across the expanse of the table. He did not smile, and the longer we sat there, the more he drew into himself.
His brothers didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t say anything.
As I conversed with Brant, Collins, Davis, and Everett, Ames did not participate. Even when he was addressed, he kept his responses short and pointed.
More than ever, I wanted to know what he was thinking. Why did his moods shift so quickly and without warning?
When the meal was finished, I said to the men, “I’ve invited Molly to join us in the music room to practice dancing, since there is only one of me and five of you.”
I stood, but I didn’t miss the look of pleasure on Brant’s face at the news, nor was I surprised when he was the first to exit the dining room when it was time to move into the music room.
As I started to follow the Welby brothers, Ames lingered back.
“Must I join you?” he asked, little emotion in his voice or face.
Disappointment pricked my heart. “I would very much like for you to be there.”
“I have work to do this evening.”
“I had hoped you’d play the piano—”
“Brant and Collins also play.”
I lifted my chin, wondering why he’d erected the wall between us again. “I will not beg you to come.”
“Good.”
Without another word, I left the dining room, trying not to let my unhappiness show. I wanted Ames to want to be with me, but I would not force him. I knew he was attracted to me, and he thought highly of me—so why did he keep me at a distance?
When I entered the music room, Molly was already there, speaking to Brant.
Several candelabras had been lit and there was a beautiful glow over the dated furnishings.
She lowered her lashes as she smiled and he leaned a little closer.
Their familiarity suggested they’d been together more than just during the journey from London to Pickering Castle.
Had they been seeing each other secretly the past couple of days?
I’d brought irritation into the room with me, and it increased now. I did not want to worry about Molly and Brant, yet I would need to speak to her again about what was expected.
“We’ll begin with the waltz,” I told the room at large, a little brisker than I’d intended. “Brant, please play a song for us to dance to. Collins, since you’ve had lessons before, I’ll have you watch for now. Davis will dance with Molly, and I will dance with Everett.”
Brant looked disappointed to leave Molly’s side.
“Let’s move the furniture first,” I suggested.
The men made quick work of the tables and sofas, pressing them against the walls of the large room, leaving a clear space for us to dance.
“The first thing to know,” I said to the men, “is that the waltz is meant to feel effortless, just like flirting.”
This gained me a smile from Brant, Collins, and Everett and blushing cheeks from Molly and Davis.
“You don’t need to teach Everett to flirt,” Collins said, goading. “He’s a natural.”
Everett wiggled his eyebrows, not taking the bait, and shrugged. “I was born this way.”
“Perhaps dancing will come naturally to you, as well,” I said, trying not to get irritated at their interruption.
You follow the rise and fall of the musical notes,” I continued, “keeping time with your partner. The waltz is counted in three, like this.” I demonstrated, holding my arms as if I was dancing with a partner, and moving my feet.
“One, two, three, one, two, three. The first beat is the strongest, and the others follow gently.”
The men watched carefully, even Brant and Collins, who claimed to know how to dance.
“On one, step forward with your left foot; on two, bring your right foot to the side. Keep the step small. And on three, move your left foot neatly to the right. That completes the measure.”
Ames appeared at the door and I paused, my arms still raised as if I was dancing with an invisible partner.
Without a word, he entered the room and stepped into place in front of me.
“A waltz, when done correctly,” Ames said to his brothers as he placed one hand at my waist and drew me close, his voice low, “is like a conversation. If you want her to trust you, you must be gentle, yet confident, as you lead.” His dark eyes were filled with something powerful.
“Set your right hand upon her waist.” He drew me a little closer, his thumb grazing the front of my stomach.
“Firmly enough to convince her that you know what you are doing”—he took a breath—“yet tender enough so she longs to remain there.”
My cheeks warmed as his touch felt like a delicious trail of fire racing up my waist.
“Take her right hand into your left one and meet her gaze so she is not tempted to look away.” He stared directly into my eyes. “You want her to trust that you are minding your feet for the both of you.”
Brant began to play a soft waltz, and Ames started to dance, drawing me with him to the rhythm of the song.
“You will notice a slight rise as you take the second step,” Ames instructed his brothers, “and a gentle lowering as we close. It must never feel abrupt. As you repeat the steps, allow your body to turn gradually. The turn comes from the waist and shoulders, not from twisting the feet.”
As he led me around the room, I almost forgot we were being watched.
Dancing with Ames was unlike any other experience I’d ever had.
And I realized, quite suddenly, one of the reasons I’d agreed to be his bride was because I had trusted him while we waltzed at Lady Sheffield’s party.
Despite all my trepidations and uncertainties, I trusted Ames Welby.
Warmth and affection flooded me at the revelation.
A lot could be revealed about a man by the way he danced.
“Always be mindful of the other couples,” Ames continued. “But remember, the waltz should appear quite effortless, even when one is thinking rather hard.”
I smiled and when he smiled back, I felt breathless and a little unsteady—and desperately in love.
The revelation almost made me lose my step, but Ames kept me steady.
“Thank you,” I said to him as we continued to dance, choking on the emotions filling my throat.
“For what?”
“For being here.”
His face softened—just a little. “It is I who should thank you, Lily.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I missed you when you left, and I realized it was only my foolishness keeping me away.”
In that moment, I was quite certain of two things.
I was in love with my husband and I would find a way to make him love me in return.