Chapter Five
“Yes, like that. Hold your frame,” Miranda coached Iris as she held her in a position of a waltz. A pang of sadness ached in her heart as memories of doing the same sort of practice with her sister filtered through her mind. They had practiced dancing for hours in the parlor of their home, perfecting each step. It was abundantly clear that none such practice had happened at Iris’s house. It would seem that dancing was the poor girl’s Achilles’s heel. Even after two weeks of coaching, Iris still failed to use the correct footing.
All because she insisted on leading, not following.
Miranda rather thought it was a thread that ran through her life.
Lead, don’t follow; it was Iris’s unspoken motto. It would be commendable if it weren’t so painful when she stepped on Miranda’s toes because of her insistence on leading.
“I’ll just dance the cotillion.” Iris spoke through clenched teeth. Her brows were so light, one could hardly see them, but her frown highlighted their position.
“Afraid of a dance—is that what you wish to be, Iris?” Miranda asked, keeping her smile in check as she neatly dodged one of Iris’s feet as they turned. It hadn’t taken long for Miranda to note that logic wasn’t the best way to change Iris’s mind, but give her a challenge? She couldn’t turn it down.
“You’ve said that before,” Iris grumbled, biting her lip as she clumsily took the next few steps.
“And it remains true, unless you’ve decided to give up?” Miranda asked sweetly.
“I know what you’re doing.” Iris glared, misstepped, and landed on Miranda’s toe . . . again.
Miranda sucked in a breath as she winced in pain. Her toes were ever so sore, but just as Iris couldn’t back down from a challenge, nor could she. “I’m attempting to teach you to be a lady of quality.”
“Iama lady of quality,” Iris enunciated.
“Then waltz like one,” Miranda replied, holding out her hand once more and counting. “One, two, three . . .”
Iris sighed, stepped into the frame of the waltz. “One day—“
“You’ll meet a gentleman you wish to dance with, and you’ll thank me. Because my toes will have taken the punishment in his place, saving your pride,” Miranda finished, turning cautiously. “And for heaven’s sake let me lead!”
“I don’t follow well,” Iris grumbled.
“You don’t follow at all,” Miranda replied, but even as she said it, Iris relaxed slightly and performed the steps with adequate grace.
“See, it’s possible.” Miranda released her and stepped back, smiling with encouragement.
“Just not probable,” Iris retorted.
“And a quick tongue is not something you should exercise on the dance floor. Ladies think before speaking.”
Iris’s expression turned mutinous, but she didn’t say anything. Wonders never ceased.
“Now that’s been accomplished, why don’t we turn our attention to the pianoforte?” Miranda had learned she had her work cut out for her regarding the ladylike pursuits in Iris’s education.
“That’s almost worse than waltzing.” Iris sighed but turned toward the grand instrument in the corner. “I can’t see why it’s so bloo—“
“Iris,” Miranda cut off the vulgar word.
“Important,” Iris finished as she sat on the bench, her hands hovering over the keys.
“At least you have some experience.”
“Not of any merit. Youhavebeen listening, have you not?”
Miranda nodded. Listening to Iris play was as much punishment for her ears as waltzing was for her toes.
As Iris began to play the simple song before her, Miranda decided governesses were grossly underpaid if the torture she was enduring was any indication.
She winced as Iris hit the wrong key, then another, before finding the correct one. “That’s better. Already an improvement.” She gave a cheerful response.
