“Easy sounds like a good idea,” Georgiana said.
Colin nodded and turned to Emily. “Viola mentioned you are partial to the Duke of Kent’s Waltz, in honor of your former royal neighbor, so we have included it.”
“Excellent.”
Mr. Henshall, however, did not look as pleased.
Colin held up his hands. “Now, Mr. Henshall, I see your scowl, but never fear, I shall not subject young Effie to a dance of dubious repute. Despite its name, this is an innocent country dance in three-quarter time, and not the German partner waltz known to raise eyebrows.”
“Good lad.”
They partnered off: Sarah with Mr. Henshall, and Hubert with Effie, which left Georgie with Colin.
“Let’s walk through it. First we form a star with another couple. Yes, yes, good. Next join hands with your partner, and step forward and back in a balance step—like this.” He demonstrated.
A strange sensation passed through Georgie when Colin held her hand. Goodness. What was wrong with her? She hoped no one had noticed her odd reaction.
“And now move down the line and back up again. Excellent. Shall we try it with music?”
They did so. On the first attempt, young Mr. Cornish bumped hard into Georgiana.
“The other way, Hubert.”
“My deepest apologies, Miss Summers.”
After a few more false starts and steps, they managed to follow the simple pattern.
Once they had mastered that country dance, Georgie said, “What about a quadrille, Colin? You mentioned we would be impressed to see you dance a quadrille. I do hope you plan to include one.”
“You read my mind, Miss Georgiana. Next, we shall try a very simple quadrille. It is danced in groups of four couples.” He regarded the three couples gathered, then turned to Emily. “We need another couple, if you would oblige and... Ah! Mr. Gwilt. Just in time.”
The small Welshman hesitated just over the threshold, tea tray in hand. “I’ve never done the like, I haven’t. But if I’m needed, I shall certainly try.” He set down the tray and joined them.
The dance began with bows and curtsies, followed by a series of advancing and retreating steps, turns, and changing places with the person opposite. Mr. Gwilt followed along, mastering the steps far more quickly than Georgie did.
The pattern was again a simple one, although Colin added his own flourishes and skipping steps.
Mr. Henshall teased, “I would be more impressed to see ye dance a reel in true Caledonian style, or better yet, a Highland fling.”
Effie shook her head. “He’d need a kilt.”
Mr. Henshall grinned. “Then perhaps I shall have to dance it myself.”
“Oh no!” Effie moaned. “Ye promised. Never again!”
“Ye may have wished to ban me, but I made no such promise, lass.”
“We have no bagpipe or piper,” she reminded him, almost desperately.
He gave a heavy faux sigh. “True. Then, I suppose we shall all have to forgo that pleasure for the present.” Over the girl’s head, he winked at Sarah.
“Never fear, Mr. Henshall,” Colin said. “We have not forgotten you. Viola and I plan to include a Scotch reel, very popular at English balls and even at Almack’s.”
“Excellent.”
“Let’s attempt it now, shall we?”
Colin demonstrated the basic steps, with optional flourishes like a hop step, a cross step, taps, and stamps. Mr. Gwilt followed along once more, proving to be remarkably adept.
