“You can, and you will. Your reputation and mine depend on it.”
“You don’t understand,” I said quietly, even as the musicians poised their instruments to play. “I don’t know the steps. Mama fell sick during my lessons, and I never had the opportunity to properly learn the quadrille, much less perfect it.”
Understanding lit his eyes.
The music began, and I honored Damon with a curtsy.
He bowed close, locking his icy blue eyes on mine. “Do exactly as I say,” he whispered. “Long balance to partnersàdroite,àgauche, then right-hand turn with the man opposite you.”
I did as Damon said, stepping first to the right, then to the left, and finally, turning in the center with the man across the square from me.
Before I had time to even wonder what forms came next, Damon grabbed my left hand and, pulling me near, he said, “Promenade through the middle, then round the outside.”
Again, I followed his instructions. Damon was an able lead. Without him, I would have been lost.
He didn’t take his eyes off me. To some, it may have looked as if he was enamored with me—at least I hoped that’s what they saw as it was preferable to the truth.
Back in our original positions, Damon talked me through the remaining steps of the first round. And when the second lady took the lead, I very nearly deflated in relief.
“You did well,” Damon said as we watched the other couples in our square dance.
“Thank you for assisting me, Damon. Truly.”
“I had little choice, Miss Kent. You were looking quite green, and my boots can only handle so much abuse.” His eyes shone with mirth in the candlelight.
How ungentlemanly of him to bringthatup. I glared at him.
He smiled slightly and resumed observing the other dancers.
Damon proved to be an accomplished and graceful dancer, but I was glad when our set ended. Glad until I remembered that I was stuck with Damon for the whole of supper.
Chapter Five
Damon had saved my reputation,but he’d also brought upon me the wrath of every young woman and chaperone in attendance; their glares were sharp talons digging into my back. I gripped Damon’s arm as we rounded the corridor into the dining hall.
The table was beautifully set with fine china, and an army of footmen dressed in gold livery stood around the perimeter, ready to serve.
Damon and I were seated near the head of the table, but Ollie sat closer to the middle of the long table. Part of me felt bad for him—having to sit apart from one’s family could not have been easy—but selfishly, after how he had treated me, I was relieved I would not have to endure his presence. Sitting across from Miss Atherton would be stressful enough.
Though I tried not to, I glanced in Ollie’s direction and found him staring at me, his expression inscrutable.
“Miss Kent,” Damon said, commanding my attention, “you appear to be searching for a particular dish. Thegrenouilles, perhaps?”
Not for the first time, I wished I’d paid more attention during the French lessons Mama had insisted upon. “Yes. Thegrenouilles. Thank you.”
Damon stood to serve me.
“I didn’t know you were fond of frog legs, Hannah,” Lady Winfield said.
My gaze snapped to Damon, and he gave me a crooked grin. There was no food on earth I detested more than frog legs, and he knew it. Ever since he’d put a frog in my drinking glass as a girl, I’d detested the blob-shaped creatures. With their slimy skin, bulging eyes, and spindly legs, they were disgusting.
When I turned back to address Lady Winfield, Miss Atherton scowled at me from across the table. I couldn’t blame her. The fact that Damon hadsupposedlyremembered my culinary preferences did little to aid my friendship with her. Another thing I would have to explain.
“I am also fond of frog legs,” Lord Rumford said. “Miss . . . ?”
“Kent,” Lord Winfield quickly supplied to our host.
“Kent,” Lord Rumford repeated thoughtfully. “Any relation to the Duke of Kent?”
