Using her torn lace as an excuse, Cherry herself took a seat by her mother for this one. A lively country dance, it would reduce its participants to damp, red-faced versions of themselves, something she preferred to avoid.
“There,” said her mother, leaning back and surveying the lace on the trim of Cherry’s gown. “Good as new.”
“You’ve worked miracles, Mama. Thank you.”
“Experience, darling. You can go and dance now.”
“I’m happier here with you, right at this moment.” She glanced down at the dancers. “Besides, this one is far too energetic for me.”
Her mother chuckled, as did Lady Henrietta, who had caught the last part of the conversation. “Your daughter is a wise woman, Hazel. Nobody likes to be hot and sticky after a dance, but I’ll wager this lot will be.” She glanced over the edge of the gallery. “Except for Garrett. Annoying boy never seems to be affected by the heat.”
“You’ve yet to dance with him,” said Lady Hazel with a pointed look.
Cherry sighed. “Stop it, Mama.”
“What? Stop what? What do you mean?”
“I mean stop it. Really.” She glanced at Lady Henrietta. “Both of you, actually.”
The two women stared at her, attempting to look confused and at a loss as to Cherry’s meaning. They failed dismally.
“If you imagine for one moment that Garrett and I haven’t realised what the two of you are up to, then you don’t know us at all.”
“I don’t…”
“I can’t…”
Cherry raised her hand, halting their exclamations.
“Stop matchmaking, ladies. Juststop.” She rose and shook out her skirts. “Garrett and I are friends, I think, even though we’ve known each other for a scant few days. He is a very pleasant gentleman, and I enjoy his company. I do not know his thoughts about me, and I won’t be asking him. So if either of you, or both of you, are cherishing expectations of Garrett and I establishing a future alliance between our families, you’d best rid yourselves of such notions.Immediately.”
Two faces stared at her, with identical expressions of mixed innocence and disappointment.
Cherry had to laugh, and shook her head at them. “Dear Mamas. You are both as transparent as glass.” She turned to her mother. “Thank you for the repairs, Mama. I’m going back down to join the fun now.” Her gaze shifted to Lady Henrietta. “I might even dance with your son, Ma’am. But please, both of you, donotimagine that means he and I are heading for the parson’s mousetrap.” She turned away, then looked back over her shoulder. “It simply means we are sharing a dance on a summer evening.”
Both Lady Hazel and Lady Henrietta watched her walk calmly down the steps from the gallery to the floor, where the dancers were assembling for the last dance before therefreshment break.
And both ladies keenly observed Garrett’s gaze as he sought out Cherry, and Cherry’s gaze as she looked for Garrett.
“Hmm,” said Lady Hazel.
“Mm hmm,” answered Lady Henrietta.
Chapter Nine
In Which we Conclude That Some Gentlemen can, indeed, Dance most Creditably
Garret found himself praying that this would be the last country dance. In fact, he made a silent promise to himself to never dance one again.
Not that his partners had been unpleasant; on the contrary, they had been—overall—quite charming. Especially the one who wasn’t looking to attract his attentions inthatway, having a perfectly adequate husband of her own. She’d been an interesting conversationalist, although they’d had very few moments to actually converse. But it had been an all too brief respite from the giggles, alluring smiles, lingering finger brushes, and those damned fluttering eyelashes. One young lady had also lisped. However, halfway through the measure, she’d forgotten to, which made his lips twitch.
Being a gentleman, he refrained from mentioning it, just added it to the list of absurdities building up from what was turning into a generally amusing, if somewhat tiring, evening.
He’d caught a glimpse of Cherry as she’d walked along the balcony, finding her mother and having her gown repaired. She wasn’t the only one, of course, lace being a well-known ballroom casualty. He’d caused a few fatalities himself in his early years.
Now, however, he was a tad more adroit, and no amount of shyly inviting smiles could distract his attention from his footwork, as most of his partners this evening could attest.
Whether Cherry had suffered from the same litany of problems he had just recited to himself, he had no idea. Not that he was watching her, or anything.
