With an intensity that kept him awake at night, that made every interaction torture, that threatened to shatter his famous control.
CHAPTER 14
“What if I never have a Season?”
Louise looked up from her embroidery to find Emily standing in the doorway of the morning room, her small face troubled. Buttercup hovered behind her, his massive head tilted as if he, too, understood the gravity of the situation.
“Whatever do you mean, darling?” Louise set aside her needlework.
Emily shuffled into the room with her eyes fixed on the carpet. “Miss Whitfield was teaching me about curtsies today. She said every young lady must know how to curtsy properly for her debut. But what if I don’t have a debut? What if George is never found, and no one takes me to a ball? What if we’re too poor?”
“Come here.” Louise opened her arms, and Emily rushed into them, burying her face against Louise’s shoulder. “What’s brought all this on?”
“I heard the maids talking.” Emily’s voice came muffled against the fabric. “They said George ruined everything. They said we haven’t got any money, and we’re only here because the duke feels sorry for us.”
Louise’s heart clenched. She would have words with Mrs. Hammond about staff discretion.
“And I don’t even know how to dance,” Emily continued, pulling back with tears threatening to spill. “All the other girls my age probably already know. Their mamas teach them. But Mama’s gone, and you’re always busy taking care of us, and I’ll never learn, and when I’m old enough for balls, everyone will laugh at the Sulton girl who can’t even do a simple country dance.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Louise smoothed the hair back from Emily’s face. “No one is going to laugh at you.”
“They will. They’ll whisper about how we don’t belong anywhere.” Emily’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t want people to feel sorry for us, Louise.”
Louise’s heart clenched. How much had Emily overheard? How many worried conversations had filtered through doors that should have been closed?
“Emily—”
“Well, this simply won’t do.”
They both turned to find Lady Merrow standing in the doorway, Buttercup having abandoned his post to greet her with an enthusiastic tail wag.
“Lady Merrow.” Louise rose, smoothing her skirts. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
“Clearly.” Lady Merrow swept into the room with the authority of a general surveying her troops. “Now then, Lady Emily. You say you cannot dance?”
Emily nodded miserably.
“Nonsense. You simply haven’t been taught yet.” Lady Merrow clapped her hands together. “This is easily remedied. To the music room, all of us. Louise, how about you play us something?”
“I … well, I’m out of practice.”
“Practice is exactly what we all need.” Lady Merrow was already herding them toward the door. “Come along, Buttercup. You may observe and learn. One never knows when a dog might need to waltz.”
The music room was bright with winter sunlight, dust motes dancing in the beams that streamed through tall windows. A beautiful pianoforte dominated one corner, its polished surface gleaming. Louise hadn’t touched an instrument in months.Longer, perhaps. There had been no time for music in a house slowly crumbling around them.
“Sit, sit.” Lady Merrow gestured toward the piano bench. “Something simple to start. A country dance, perhaps, while Emily learns the basic figures.”
Louise settled before the keys, her fingers hovering over the ivory. She pressed a tentative chord. The sound rang clear and true through the room.
“Lovely tone,” Lady Merrow observed. “Now then, Emily, stand here. We’ll begin with the curtsy. Every dance starts with proper acknowledgment of one’s partner.”
Louise let her hands drift across the keys, running through scales to reacquaint herself with the feel of the instrument. The motion came back to her like breathing, muscle memory overriding months of neglect.
A pang of sadness caught her off guard.
She had played this very piece once, years ago, for George and his friends. They had gathered in the drawing room, young men full of laughter and ambition, and George had been so proud of his talented sister.
Play something lively, Lou, he had called out.Something to get the blood moving.
