He had noticed her chatting with an older couple, andlaughing with two white-haired ladies at the far end of the hall. She’d accepted a glass of punch from an elderly man who looked as if he would be happier in his fields than here in his smart evening jacket. But she’d said something to make him smile.
Garrett mentally scolded himself for what he discovered he was doing—keeping an eye on her—but he felt a measure of responsibility, since he wasn’t sure she’d be here if not for him and his mother.
Where would she have been? Would she have gone with her Mama to wherever it was that they were doing embroidery? He managed to hide his unexpected snort of laughter, turning it into a clearing of the throat as he performed the next change with grace and dexterity. Or hoped that he did.
His thoughts had drifted and with a slight start, he realised that the final turn was at hand, praise the Lord. He bowed politely to his curtseying partner, damned if he could recall her name, and half-led half-followed her to where a large woman sat smiling from ear to ear.
“A lovely dance, Ma’am. My thanks.” He bowed correctly. Before the lady, betraying obvious “mother” signs, could utter a word, he took a step back. “Forgive me, I must attend to my parent. Good evening.”
And he was gone, with a speed that would have surprised some of his friends, especially those more accustomed to his leisurely way of ambling through things like this.
Arriving at Lady Henrietta’s side, he snabbled an empty chair and pulled it near hers. “I’m getting old, Mama. No doubt about it.”
She laughed. “Nonsense, Garrett.”
“You have put many of the gentlemen to shame, Garrett,” added Hazel, grinning. “I believe we will see more than a few of them present if Mr Ganymede offers dancing lessons thisautumn.” She looked at her friend. “He’s a former dancing master from London, you know. But he fell into disfavour amongst the Ton for telling a very high-born lady never to take to the dance floor unless she wanted to be mistaken for a donkey having a convulsion.”
“Ouch,” Garrett winced. “That is harsh indeed.”
“Knowing Mr Ganymede, it was probably true, but anyway it resulted in Lesser Banthorpe acquiring a well-trained dancing master. And I think our lads have appreciated it. I know the girls certainly have.”
Garrett nodded, his attention slightly distracted at the sight of Cherry chatting at the edge of the dance floor with two gentlemen. Young gentlemen.
She was smiling and laughing.
“Oh, look,” said Lady Hazel innocently. “There’s Cherry with the Stonebridge lads.” She glanced at her friend. “Brothers, you know. Excellent stock. Their Papa is a well-known farming expert. Several books to his credit, I understand.”
“How fascinating,” Lady Henrietta leaned forward to get a better look. “Handsome young men, aren’t they?”
Garrett sighed. “Well, this brief interlude has been quite delightful, but I think it’s time for me to do the necessary and wander amongst the throng.” He glanced at Lady Hazel. “We must be nearing the end, are we not?”
“Garrett,” scolded his mother. “Anyone would think you’re not enjoying yourself.”
“How wrong they would be,” he replied dryly, an eyebrow quirked in her direction. “Stop trying to manipulate me, Mama.”
“Go, dreadful boy.” She waved him off with a gesture and sighed, shooting a quick look at Hazel. “He is so stubborn sometimes.”
“And at others, the best man in the world.” Lady Treasereached out and patted Lady DeVarne’s hand with all the affection of a long, but interrupted, friendship. “You wouldn’t change a thing about him, would you?”
Henrietta shook her head. “No. Not a thing.” She looked out over the floor, her gaze resting on a certain young woman. “Well, maybeonething…”
“There’s hope yet,” said Hazel, nodding at the orchestra where a gentleman had stepped onto the dais and was clearly about to address the crowd.
“My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said loudly, his rich and cultured voice echoing to the rafters, and heads turned as silence rapidly fell.
“Teacher?” Henrietta shot a quick look at Hazel.
Who nodded. “Thirty years.”
“It shows.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you please.” The man spoke again as the room quieted. “It has been a delight to see you all enjoying this evening’s festivities, but as we know, all good things must come to an end. So it is my honour to announce the last dance. And also to announce that the Committee hasapprovedit.” He took a breath. “The last dance is to be awaltz.”
*~~*~~*
Cherry’s indrawn breath echoed just about everyone else’s. This was exciting and absolutely top-notch, since the waltz had barely managed to gain approval in the London salons, and was—by many—still regarded as not quite the thing. Holding or touching hands during a sedate measure was one thing. A lady being clasped close to a gentleman’s chest? Well, that wasquiteanother.
The level of conversation rose rapidly, excited laughter rippled through the attendees, and many a girl shot angry looks at her parents, who had held to tradition and forbidden their daughters the joy of waltzing.
