Greer wished he hadn’t seen a brief expression of disappointment flicker across Beatrice’s face. “I’ve done the polka,” he offered.
“The polka is a two-quarter dance,” the duke said, “and the waltz is a three-quarter dance.”
Greer shrugged. “How about if you and your wife start? Let me watch you for a minute, and with Miss Rare-Foure’s help, we shall follow behind.”
Which was precisely what they did. The duke bowed to the duchess, then took her hand. She gave a shallow curtsey, and they moved a few feet away. The music was already playing, and the man took his wife in his arms.
“One, two, three,” the duke said aloud, and the rest was a series of steps and turns.
Greer couldn’t figure out what the duchess was doing under her voluminous skirts, but he carefully watched the duke’s steps — right, left, forward, left, right back — yet at the same time they didn’t stay in the same spot despite it appearing as if they formed a box. They moved as if they were one unit, turning, stepping, gliding.
Even Greer could appreciate the grace of the couple.
“Our turn,” he said, after he thought he had the steps. He held out his hand to Beatrice, and she took it. Instantly, he felt a happy warmth at touching her, even better when they got into position, with his right hand pressed to her back and his left clasping her hand. They began.
Immediately, he trod on her foot. And again.
“Let me see what you’re doing,” the duke insisted. And they started again with the same result.
“Mr. Carson, the waltz is a close dance. When you step forward, your knee will inevitably be near Miss Rare-Foure’s, despite hers being cloaked under an infernal amount of fabric. If you try to move your right foot farther right to avoid touching hers, or any woman’s, you will collide with her left foot.”
With that advice, they tried again to better results, at least for a few steps. When they turned and he was going backward, it happened again.
“The railroad,” Beatrice muttered, probably with sore toes. “Think of our feet on parallel tracks that do not intersect. Just keep on your track, please.”
He smiled. “That’s brilliant. Let’s be trains, Miss Rare-Foure.”
Greer still struggled, but after half an hour he had the box step, as they called it, and then the duke taught him how to rock, transferring his weight from foot to foot before turning his partner. Eventually, they made it all around the ballroom.
“Bravo,” said the duchess.
“Recall, of course, you will be with many other couples. Occasionally, someone will collide with you. Simply continue with the briefest nod of apology, even if it wasn’t your fault, and no one will mind,” the duke advised. “And don’t ever cry out or bring attention to it.”
Greer nodded. “As long as I’m not knocked off my feet, we shall soldier on.”
Beatrice giggled. “How many dances must we learn?”
“Naturally, you must learn the proper way to do the opening Grand March and the quadrille. If you feel comfortable with the polka and the waltz, you should learn the mazurka, lancier, and—”
“Good God! I only intend to go to a few balls and snap up the first available lady who accepts,” Greer insisted, “After that, I think I’ll be done with the dancing.”
“It’s best you do as my husband says, Mr. Carson. At each ball, nearly every popular dance is performed at least once. What if you examine the lady’s card to find the polka and waltz are already claimed?”
“I don’t suppose I can cross out the other fellow’s name and fill in my own?”
They all chuckled at such an insolent notion.
“Very well,” Greer said. “Let’s try one more lesson tonight, but if I do more than that, I’ll probably muddle the steps up in my head. Would you mind allowing us to return for more instruction another time? Miss Rare-Foure says we have a few weeks before anything spectacular is expected of us.”
“Indeed,” the duchess said, “you must come again. I think it more enjoyable dancing here at home than at a ball. I vow the last time we were in a ballroom I heard whispers of ‘chocolatier’ at each rotation around the dance floor.”
The duke draped an arm over his wife’s shoulders. “You probably did, my love, but they were whisperings of either jealousy or admiration. I promise.”
Beatrice put her hands on her hips. “Think how I shall feel when I hear murmurs of ‘treacle toffee’ as I circle the dance floor!”
The women laughed again, and Greer thought them the most cheerful two females he’d come across in years. It must be all the sweet treats.
“I believe you’ll also need a little tutoring on greetings and title ranking,” the duke said. “But I shall be there to introduce you, so you can follow my lead.”
