“Of course, sir.” In fact, she was quite touched. But equally confused. Why had he made the effort?
“It was only that…well…the dances are starting soon, and I saw you were alone, and I thought that, especially as this is your first time here, you might perhaps wish to dance. And so, well… I’m making a sad muff of it, Miss Fanshaw, but I wondered if you might do me the honour of dancing with me?”
Oh! It was Lucy’s turn to blush. “I…”
“As you are Lord Orton’s friend,” Mr Simmons continued quickly, “and I am his friend, and as he is likely to be engaged for some time…”
He trailed off, and they both glanced again to where Jack was surrounded by his admirers. His head was bent to one now, an elegant blonde with diamonds in her hair, a smile brimming on his lips, just the right side of mischievous.
“So I…I thought,” Mr Simmons continued, “that you might not take it remiss if I sought to do…do what I consider a brotherly sort of duty, Jack being almost that to me, and myself ever-ready to do him any favour I might—and serve his friends likewise also.”
He finished in an awkward rush. She’d assumed no one would ask her, she’dhopedno one would ask her…
Her chest gave a complicated squeeze, of which the largest twist was certainly gratitude. It could be no pleasure for a young man to stand up with the ugliest girl in the room. And there was embarrassment too, she had to admit, at being clearly so neglected as to invoke this young man’s pity. But there was also regret and guilt, there being only one reply she could give the man, and it was poor repayment for his kindness.
“I thank you, but I’m afraid I cannot dance with you.”
The man flushed redder than ever, and Lucy hastened to reassure him.
“It is not that I do not want to, Mr Simmons. I am very grateful! Very grateful indeed. And…and conscious of the kind consideration you have shown me, but the truth is, I… I cannot dance with anyone. I cannot dance at all.”
“You are injured? Your health…?”
“No, no,” she said quickly but wishing she could have gone along with the excuse he’d offered. It would’ve been less embarrassing, but it wasn’t the truth. “It is because…because I do not know how. I never learnt to dance, Mr Simmons.”
His eyes widened, and the pity that flooded his face made her more embarrassed than ever.
“I had a very secluded upbringing, you see,” she added in her own hasty rush. “In a remote house without company nearby, and my guardian was my elderly aunt, who took no enjoyment from parties and balls…”
“I see. I am very sorry, and sorry to have put you in an awkward position—”
“Not at all! I am so grateful! Truly I am! And a thousand times sorry I cannot dance with you, but—”
“What’s this?”
Jack’s sudden voice startled them both. Still blushing heavily, she looked up and found his tall, dark figure looking between her and Mr Simmons with amusement.
“Can’t dance with George?” he continued. “Whyever not? Shame on you, Min, cutting poor old George’s hopes up like that.”
“No, Jack,” began his friend, “it is not—”
“And George is such alovelydancer!” Jack said, irrepressible. He grinned. “And just the right height for you too, Min. You’d suit perfectly.”
“No, you don’t understand—I am not—”
“Card filled up already, is it?” Jack teased.
“I am not dancing with anyone!”
“Whyever not?” he demanded.
“Jack—” tried Mr Simmons, but Jack waved him to silence, his eyes fixed on her face. The brimming smile he’d worn earlier was back. But now it deepened far past amusement and all the way into devilish mischief.
It never boded well when Jack looked like that.
“I can’t,” she muttered.
He leant closer to hear her better. “Youcan’t?”
