“That’s Monsieur Claude,” Lady Rosalie says, dropping Catherine’s hand to gesture to the musician. “He’s my father’s favorite pianist.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Catherine manages.
How many concerts do the Tisends throw a year?
“And you, mademoiselle,” he says. “Shall we begin half tempo?”
“I’ll show MissPine the steps and then we’ll begin, Monsieur Claude,” Lady Rosalie says.
Monsieur Claude sits back, happy to relax.
It’s only then that Catherine gets a chance to admire Lady Rosalie’s stunning outfit. Her gown is a soft pink that lays over her petite figure perfectly, with beautiful flowers embroidered along her hem and up to her knees, matching the flowers on the dais. Her shiny dark hair falls softly around her face in slightly relaxed curls, the rest gathered elegantly at the back of her head. Her short gloves, in a light pink lace, accentuate her dainty hands.
She’s utterly breathtaking, which is a problem, because she’s been explaining steps for a full minute and Catherine hasn’t caught a word of it. No wonder people are dazzled by Lady Rosalie. Between her beauty, her intimidating countenance, and her obscene wealth, how could anyone not be?
Lady Rosalie stops talking and stares at Catherine expectantly.
Catherine shrugs guiltily. “I’m so sorry, could you... say all of that again?” Lady Rosalie raises an eyebrow. “It’s a lot to take in!”
“It is a dazzling room, Lady Rosalie, you must admit. I nearly forgot my entire solo the first time I performed here,” Monsieur Claude says merrily.
Catherine’s more than willing to let Lady Rosalie think it’s all the room.
“I will give you a tour another time. But we’ve limited remaining minutes to learn this, so will you focus?” Lady Rosalie asks, looking back at Catherine.
The quirk of her lips suggests she noticed Catherine staring at her décolletage. It’s only that the lace along her bosom draws the eye, and her dress suits her exceedingly well, and it’smeantto attract attention. She appreciates a good shelf. Bosoms are pleasing to look at.
Usually, she doesn’t get caught.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” Catherine says quickly, hoping her cheeks aren’t bright red.
“It’s four counts forward, touch hands, then four back, a cross to the right, then back to middle, then back to the left. Got it?”
Catherine nods and they step to face each other. Lady Rosalie counts off and Catherine stumbles through the easy steps. Lady Rosalie doesn’t look impressed.
Catherine forces herself to focus. She’s not a bad dancer. She’s just usually not this distracted. The men she danced with back home were beautiful in their own right, and Mr.Dean is certainly handsome, but none of them were as captivating as Lady Rosalie. None of them had so many minute expressions.
No one has commanded her attention like this so far.
“No, do it again, you’re missing the second turn,” Lady Rosalie says imperiously, tugging on Catherine’s hand as they stand close together, halfway through the sequence.
Catherine manages a nod and lets Lady Rosalie walk her through the turn sequence again, their hands coming together, then apart, and back.
“Better. You’re not terrible at this, you just lack focus,” Lady Rosalie decides, looking Catherine up and down when they finish the last step. “Think you can manage the whole thing?”
Catherine swallows against a new flutter of nerves. “No mistakes,” she promises.
Lady Rosalie chuckles. “We’ll see.”
Lady Rosalie nods to Monsieur Claude. He begins to play and Lady Rosalie counts them off softly.
Forward, hands touch, back, turn right, center, turn left, center. Take Lady Rosalie’s hand without focusing on the way it makes her arm tingle. Hop step twice, spin, take her other hand. Don’t focus on the way she squeezes gently, as if in encouragement.
Then she has to circle Lady Rosalie, careful not to step on her toes in her pink ballet flats. Catherine tries hard not to notice her floral-and-citrus perfume—something different from what she wore on their walk. It’s sharper, like lemon.
Lady Rosalie’s countenance cracks and she smiles as they go into the last sequence, spinning around each other and hop-stepping, hands linked. Catherine finds herself breathless, laughing as they spin around. Lady Rosalie joins her and they come together one last time, a little too close, before spinning away in a final flourish.
