“Then you will be gratified to hear that the Harringtons have invited us to dinner this Thursday,” Alex said. “They would like to reintroduce us to our neighbors. Mrs. Harrington said there will be music later if any of the young people want to stand up for a few sets.” Ignoring his sister’s squeak of pleasure, he continued, “We must hope your teaching technique works, Christa.”
“It’s not complicated, my lord. If you go through the movements slowly, over and over, eventually your body will remember how to do them and your mind will no longer be needed so you can concentrate on paying extravagant compliments to your partner.” Christa made a gesture to her mistress. “Miss Annabelle, if you and I act as partners, and your brothers put their hands on our shoulders . . .”
Christa and Annabelle stood opposite each other in the position for a simple reel. Alex moved behind Christa and put his hands gently on her shoulders while Jonathan did the same behind Annabelle. The two girls hummed the music and slowly moved through the steps. Sure enough, it was easier for Alex to follow the motion transmitted through his fingers than it was to listen to someone speak commands.
Alex had decided that it was his brotherly duty to be the one working with Christa. Being only fifteen, Jonathan might have been so tempted by her satiny skin that he wouldn’t have learned anything. Yet in spite of his advanced years, Alex found it difficult to refrain from stroking her neck in a manner that had nothing to do with dancing.
Back and forth, twice to the right. And when Christa turned her head, the same tangy fragrance he had noticed on the beach brought a sharp memory of Malta and a sun-kissed hillside overlooking the azure calm of the Mediterranean.Side to side and turn around. Rosemary, that’s what the scent was. Alex had found a whole hillside covered with it in Malta. Christa must use the herb on her hair. It suited her—piquant and unusual, but at the same time as straightforward as she was.
Absorbed in his thoughts, Alex followed Christa’s lead through a number of repetitions of the steps, at progressively faster speeds. He was surprised when he realized the practice had stopped. Christa had certainly done a splendid job of distracting him from thinking about his feet!
The four of them danced again, but this time as couples. After so many repetitions of the steps, the two males could get through the reel without mishap. In another half hour they were dancing with ease and beginning to converse with their partners.
The lesson ended with a late-afternoon tea tray. This time, by unanimous consent, Christa joined them for the refreshments. The Kingsleys all insisted that she had earned the privilege.
* * *
A burst of water splashed her face and Christa laughed with the sheer pleasure of it. She was at the tiller of theAnnabelle, while Alex was forward, instructing his siblings in the intricacies of sails, lines, and the all-important necessity of avoiding the boom when it came about suddenly.
The day after the first dance class, Alex went to Ipswich to collect his new boat, sailing it home with the help of the former owner. Early the next morning, he had his crew down at the cove for their first sailing session. The day promised to be fair and clear—perfect for a new outdoor venture.
Alex started by distributing long-sleeved woolen jerseys to them. An old woman from the Channel Isles lived in Ipswich, and she had knitted the garments out of heavy off-white wool. Alex owned a similar jersey that he had acquired years earlier, and he explained that the natural oil in the yarn kept a sailor warm even when the jersey was soaked. Moreover, the garment allowed free movement. Annabelle had balked a bit at the large shapeless pullover but became a convert to its use when the boat reached open water, where the sea breezes were cool but the sailors stayed comfortably warm.
Christa thought that their captain looked wonderfully dashing with his well-worn jersey stretching across his wide shoulders. Before they set sail, he had questioned her to determine her level of nautical expertise, then made her second in command as they sailed into the nearby estuary that led to Ipswich. It was a good place for novice sailors, calm enough to reduce the possibility of seasickness, and with a steady breeze. After Alex turned the tiller over to Christa, the sailing lesson for Annabelle and Jonathan began in earnest.
The salt spray and wind were playing havoc with Christa’s hair, and by the end of the day her curls would be a mad mass that would require patient disentangling and a wash. It didn’t matter. Christa could not remember when she had felt so free—certainly not since before the Revolution began six years before. She might be a servant, but today she would not have changed places with anyone.
It was also, Christa remembered with a start, her birthday. She was twenty-four years old today and felt half a century younger than on her last birthday, when she was living in depressed luxury at Radcliffe Hall. For all her change in station, life was far better now.
TheAnnabellewas a sweet, responsive boat. Steering her was easy and left Christa the time to keep a lazy eye on Alex. Clearly he was in his element, his golden hair as windblown as her own, his movements unconsciously graceful as he accommodated himself to the boat’s motions.
Raising the jib, he winced slightly. Christa frowned. She had thought he was favoring his left side and was now sure of it. The whole household knew the viscount had been seriously wounded in the Mediterranean, and she hoped for his sake that the damage would eventually heal.
Having drilled his students enough for one session, Alex left them to their own devices and went aft to sit by Christa at the tiller. That morning when he had seen the two girls in their breeches, it was clear that such garments had a definite place in the female wardrobe. At least, they had merit from a man’s point of view. Annabelle’s long legs were elegantly slender in Jonathan’s old breeches, and she seemed to move with more confidence as she became used to the freedom. As for Christa—if the French fleet at the Battle of the Saintes had sent women with curves like hers into the rigging, they would have carried the day as the British fleet was reduced to lustful wonder.
“What do you think of theAnnabelle?” Alex asked as he seated himself on the far side of the tiller from her.
“She’s a lovely lady,” Christa said. “Sails more closely to the wind than any boat I have ever been on. What kind is she?”
“I don’t know if this type of boat has a particular name—there are so many kinds of coastal vessels. She is something like the Thames bawleys that work the estuary waters around here, but larger and with more draft so she’ll do for deep-water sailing. I suspect someone built her for smuggling, actually. Don’t laugh,” he said at Christa’s chuckle. “That is an important industry around here.”
“Do you wish to set up as a smuggler, my lord?” she teased.
“I was thinking of a more legitimate business, actually. Perhaps I’ll buy into a merchant fleet. But not for theAnnabelle. She is just for me. I could sail round the world in her.”
“You would need a crew, Captain Kingsley.”
“Then you could come with me.” The comment was light but the warm look in the clear amber eyes was not. Their gazes locked for a moment before she turned to look forward, where Annabelle was hanging over the bow like an improbably beautiful figurehead, spray flying into her face and hair as the boat cut through the waves. Christa was glad that she had braided her mistress’s hair—it would simplify the combing later.
“Your sister is growing lovelier every day. She will be a great success this autumn.”
Alex accepted the change of subject, not sure whether to be relieved or sorry that the French girl had ignored his remark about going off with him. When he was around Christa, his tongue took on a life of its own. “I hope so. Belle will enjoy her Season much more if she is confident and sought after. My sister has had few opportunities for pleasure before now.”
Christa thought of Annabelle’s fascinated reaction to the coxcomb in the park and decided a warning was in order. “For that reason, my lord, you had best keep a close eye on her.”
Alex glanced at her appraisingly. “Why do you say that?” In the back of his mind lurked memories of his mother’s unbridled promiscuity, but he could not imagine Annabelle following that course. While his sister had her mother’s beauty, her temperament was wholly different.
Christa seemed to guess what he was thinking. “She is young; she will be much courted. It is enough to turn any young girl’s head, especially one who is not used to being admired. It will be good experience if she goes out socially this summer.”
