Greys ignored the slight even as Chaswick rubbed his hands together.
“Ah, yes, Collette told me they were to practice the waltz today.”
“The last time Posy insisted on practicing dancing, three of my toes turned blue.” Greys groaned inwardly at the prospect. His niece and ward, Lady Posy, along with his cousin Viola Faraday and his Great-Aunt Iris, were all keeping residence at Knight House this spring to present Posy to society. Posy had become only slightly more enthusiastic after having been introduced to Chaswick’s sisters.
“Lady Posy is improving.” Blackheart held the door as the men exited the billiard room into the foyer.
“I’d hate to imagine what my toes would look like if she were to get worse,” Greys said.
Piano music floated down the corridor and increased in volume as they neared Greys’ rarely used ballroom. He vaguely remembered being forced to practice with Viola long ago—as most offspring of nobility typically were. One could not get along amongst theTonwithout having mastered all the popular dances.
But when he pulled open one of the giant doors and looked inside, expecting to find his niece and Chaswick’s sisters practicing the waltz with one another, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
Miss Collette Jones sat at the piano-forte while Posy stood along the wall, but none of that concerned him. It was the third amongst them—moving about the dance floor like a forest nymph rather than a well-behaved young lady of theTon—that had him freezing in place.
Miss Diana Jones was twirling and leaping, crouching, and moving her arms gracefully with each movement as she performed what appeared to be an almost ceremonial dance for her small audience. Her skirts and her hair whipped around her face as she spun and then collapsed into a heap on the floor at the music’s end. Posy applauded enthusiastically, looking more than a little entranced, and the girl's sister smiled proudly.
The two of them ought to be scandalized.
“Diana, what in the name of God are you doing?” Chaswick rushed across to assist his sister off the floor while Blackheart managed to clap his gloved hands slowly, even with one of them in a sling, and turned to meet Greys’ gaze. By the duke’s amused expression, it was apparent he’d been privy to other such performances.
Greys shook his head in disapproval. It wasn’t at all appropriate for his ward to be exposed to such unladylike conduct. Already, she was proving contrary enough.
If any other members of theTonwere to witness such a vulgar display of passionate exuberance, Miss Diana Jones would find herself ruined. Chaswick was right in thinking she needed his help.
What he had just witnessed of her short performance had been passionate, evocative… and sensual. Proper ladies contained such outbursts of emotion. If, that was, they experienced them at all.
If Chaswick’s sister were to act like this in public, she’d not only embarrass the hell out of her brother and his wife but cement her position as a societal outcast.
“You know I love to dance, Chase,” she defended herself while at the same time fussing to repair her chignon with a few strategically placed pins.
“Never do that out in the open.” Chaswick glanced around the room. “Never. Ever. Do you understand? Where the devil are your instructor and Miss Faraday?”
“Language.” The older Miss Jones smothered a smile even as she chastised her brother.
“I would never dance like that in front of anybody.” The girl’s blue eyes sparkled teasingly at her brother but not without more than an inkling of defiance. Trouble. Miss Diana Jones was going to bring his friend nothing but trouble. “I’m not an idiot, Chase.”
Chaswick looked pointedly at Greys and Blackheart, but the chit merely scrunched up her nose.
“Your friends don’t count.”
Chaswick made a choking sound and scrubbed a hand down his face. “After you’ve married, once you’re no longer my responsibility, then you can dance all you want. I’m more than confident your husband will happily manage these, er, outbursts of choreography.”
Greys tamped down the image of having a wife who danced for him thusly while Blackhead discreetly coughed into his hand.
But Miss Diana Jones was not finished. “Bethany says it’s almost like ballet.”
Greys stared at the lace at the end of his sleeve, biting back a smile. Whatever Miss Diana had been doing a moment ago, regardless of what the baroness had told her, was a far cry from classical ballet.
Properly trained ballerinas didn’t rotate their hips, nor did they close their eyes while dancing and make expressions that resembled the moment she...
Cutting off that thought, Greys crossed the room to a nearby sideboard and poured himself a glass of water.
“I thought the three of you were working on the waltz.” Chase changed the subject.
“Monsieur Jean Luc left early today. Aunt Violet went to see if any of uncle’s manservants know how to waltz. Because, Lord Chaswick, there are three of us and only two of you.” Posy offered
“And it’s important to be able to dance amidst other couples.” Diana’s older sister pointed out even as she shotMr. Cockfielda suspicious glance. Ah, yes. She seemed to be working out his true identity. Chaswick had likely introduced Blackheart to his second family at some time or another before the bet had come into play.
