“He does have natural rhythm,” Louise agreed, thinking of their lesson in the music room.
And so, she went downstairs along with Emily and Buttercup.
Aaron stood at the bottom of the stairs, adjusting his gloves with meticulous precision. He looked up as she descended, and his hands stilled completely. His evening clothes fit him perfectly, the dark gray coat emphasizing his broad shoulders, the white of his cravat turning his eyes into the deep blue ocean.
He looked what he was: powerful, controlled, devastatingly attractive.
Louise forced herself to breathe normally, to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the sight of him. Whatever she felt watching Aaron’s gaze travel slowly from her face to the hem of her gown meant nothing.
“You look …” He stopped, swallowed, started again. “The gown suits you.”
Four words that somehow felt more intimate than poetry. Louise managed with a steady voice. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Finally!” Lady Merrow swept into the hall, resplendent in midnight blue. “I thought we might miss the first waltz. Though given how stunning we all look, a fashionably late entrance might be perfect.”
A clatter of footsteps drew their attention to the stairs, where Emily appeared with Buttercup at her heels. The dog still wore his enormous silver bow.
“Cook says the biscuits are ready!” Emily bounced on the top step. “And Buttercup already tried to steal one, but Mrs. Hammond caught him.”
Buttercup’s tail wagged without a hint of remorse.
“And Miss Whitfield is setting up charades in the schoolroom for after!” Miss Whitfield appeared behind Emily, her usually serious face softened with a smile.
“Lady Emily and I have planned quite the evening, Lady Louise. Games, stories, and I believe Cook mentioned something about making snow candy if the weather cooperates.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Louise said, grateful for the governess’s steady presence. “Thank you, Miss Whitfield.”
“It’s my pleasure. Lady Emily has been practicing her French phrases for charades. Haven’t you, ma petite?”
Emily giggled. “Oui, Mademoiselle!”
“Excellent pronunciation. Now, shall we go and see about those biscuits? Cook mentioned something about letting you help with the decorating.”
“With real sugar roses?” Emily bounced on her toes, nearly losing her balance on the top step.
“Yes, but carefully,” the governess murmured, steadying her.
Emily turned back, her small hands clasped. “I wanted to say goodbye first. You look like a queen, Louise. Doesn’t she look like a queen, Buttercup?”
Buttercup barked once in apparent agreement.
“Have fun at your party, darling.” Louise blew her sister a kiss. “Don’t let Buttercup eat all the cake.”
“I won’t. Cook is guarding it.” Emily waved enthusiastically. “Dance lots! And tell me everything tomorrow!”
“I promise.”
“Come along, Buttercup.” Emily tugged at his ribbon. “We have icing to put on biscuits.”
With that, the governess guided her toward the back stairwell with the dog following her happily toward the kitchen, his massive tail sweeping against the banister as they went.
Lady Merrow watched them disappear with a fond smile. “That child has the entire household wrapped around her finger.”
“She does,” Louise agreed, her heart full. “I don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”
“Nonsense. Cook has been looking for an excuse to make iced biscuits for weeks.” Lady Merrow took her arm. “Now then. Our carriage awaits, and I intend to make an entrance.”
The Ashworth mansion blazed with light, every window glowing against the winter darkness. Footmen in silver livery helped them from the carriage, and Louise heard the whispers begin before they even reached the door.
