Charlotte held out her card, and the American scrawled his name next to the polka, fourth down on the list. Beatrice decided she might as well follow suit, for her sister’s logic made sense.
“Shall we dance?” she asked Mr. Carson.
“We shall,” he agreed. “And since we are new to this, why don’t I sign up for the Grand March leading into the first quadrille.”
That was perfect. Beatrice had been dreading the very first time she stepped out onto the floor with all the experienced lords and ladies, and being with her usual dance partner would make it far less nerve-wracking.
“Just remember,” she said, repeating the duke’s words of wisdom imparted during their lessons, “the lead couple, namely my sister and the duke, will have the fireplace on their left.”
“Right,” Charlotte said.
Beatrice frowned. “Are you agreeing, or are you saying I am incorrect?” she asked.
“Incorrect. The lead couple will have the fireplace on theirright, taking the room lengthwise, of course. And the third couple will be on the right of the first. That’s what the duke said.”
“What about the second couple?” Beatrice asked with mounting panic.
The three of them looked at each other blankly.
Charlotte suddenly cocked her head. “Of course, it depends on whether it is a march in file or in column. Did Amity mention anything about it being a serpentine march or an arbor one? Did she say it might be a Grecian cross or — ?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Beatrice was positive a bead of sweat was now trickling down her back under her shift, and her palms felt decidedly moist.
“I’m sure it will all come clear,” Mr. Carson said. “We’ll muddle through.”
“What about me?” Charlotte asked, sounding equal parts anxious and thrilled.
“I doubt you’ll have to worry. It’s the gentleman’s job to lead,” Beatrice reminded her. To the American, she added, “You’d best get a move on, or the other ladies’ cards will fill up before you get a chance.” She glanced around. “Look, there’s my sister, ready to take you under her wing and make introductions.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he promised. With a nod to Charlotte and wink for Beatrice, he went over to Amity, and they disappeared into the burgeoning crowd.
Beatrice tried to take a relaxing breath, but then occurred the most terrifying moment so far — the duke approached with a handsome stranger.
Chapter Eight
“This young man askedme to make introductions,” the duke said. “Ladies, this is The Viscount Beechum.” He turned to the man. “Lord Beechum, these are my sisters-in-law, Miss Rare-Foure and her sister, Miss Charlotte.”
