“I will just remain sitting during the dancing.” He groaned as he limped dramatically to a chair.
“No, my boy, you won’t. The Earl of Threthewick has to stand up at least once. You don’t want to be mistaken for an antisocial boor.”
“Iaman antisocial boor.” Philip set his chin in a stubborn way. “And proud of it, too.”
“Aye, that’s the problem. I should’ve taught you all this earlier.” Fergus sighed. “If Granma had lived longer, we’d have done it, too.”
“It isn’t so difficult, Mr Merivale. If you can calculate the rotational speed of a wheel, then surely you can figure out the order of the dance.”
“No, I can’t,” he replied, testily. “Because my numbers make sense, but this doesn’t. There’s no rhyme and reason to this hopping.” To prove his point, he stepped on Arabella’s foot.
“Just avoid stepping on the lady’s foot,” Arabella hopped around on one foot, grimacing. “If you can manage to do that, it’d already be a feat.”
“Bah.”
Fergus put down his fiddle. “Next: waltz.”
Philip groaned. “Have mercy, Granda.”
“Ye need to learn this, son. This is something I’m good at. An Austrian taught me. A brilliant dance. The world won’t be the same after ye’ve danced to the tunes of a proper waltz. Miss Weston, if ye please.”
He pulled her into his arms, somewhat closer than what she was used to. “There’s got to be more distance —” she began.
“Bah. This is where the English got it wrong. It’s got to be danced closer, so ye can twirl real fast. Like this.” He gathered her up to his chest and twirled her around in a breath-taking twist, humming to the tunes of a waltz. Arabella was a good dancer and light on her feet, and Fergus had a strong lead. She was used to dancing it slower, with more distance to the partner. This close, they spun faster than she ever had at any of her balls.
“This is amazing,” she gasped.
“Yer as light as a feather, a joy to dance with. Now, Pip.” Philip crossed his arms. But Fergus would have none of it. “Dinnae be doaty.”
Philip pulled himself up and imitated his steps.
“Aye, that’s more like it. This is the basic box step. One, two, three, one, two, three. Easy enough.”
Even Philip got that.
“Put the foot this way to turn.”
Philip got that, too.
“Now, together with the lady.” He pushed Arabella into his arms. Philip caught her. This close, Arabella could feel the heat radiating from his body. She stumbled.
“This time it was her, not me,” Philip quipped.
“Aye, but don’t stop after each step. This is a dance, so string them up together fluidly. I will sing a tune.” Fergus hummed a tune. Robin and Joy were dancing alongside them, giggling, and Katy danced with Fergus. Philip turned Arabella gently and slowly. Her brain stopped functioning. There was no music, this was no ballroom, they weren’t wearing ballroom attire. He stumbled and faltered, but it felt like the most heavenly dance she’d ever danced. She floated on a cotton cloud.
“Breathe,” he whispered. His warm breath brushed against the little hairs above her ear.
She shivered.
Arabella exhaled in one swoop. She must’ve held her breath the entire time.
He swung her in one final curve and stopped. She felt his hand on her back and again forgot to breathe.
“That was magnificent!” Katy’s voice intruded. “I wish I could go to a ball. I wish I could go with Papa!”
Arabella wished he’d never let her go. He dropped his hands, apparently with reluctance.
“Yer time will come, lass.” Fergus said. “As for you. Just keep leading the lady.”
