He was becoming adept at carrying lemonade and champagne, also in escorting the ladies on and off the dance floor, handing them off to their next partner. Unfortunately, at that point, he promptly forgot their names. Each and every one seemed cut from the same bolt of cloth.
Even when he’d danced with Charlotte, it wasn’t the same as with her sister. Partly because that young miss had her head on a swivel. Knowing he wasn’t interested in her romantically, the youngest Rare-Foure girl spent her time spying out other men and even talking about who she thought cut a good figure.
It was a little galling. Beatrice hadn’t behaved similarly. He thought that was because they had formed a friendship. At least, he felt they had.
And then it was time for the last dance before the dinner break. He went to the far end of the room to collect his next partner, Lady Emily St. George, not particularly recalling her until he approached her table, where she stood with her chaperone.
He bowed. “I believe our dance is coming up next,” he said to the petite, dark-haired female. She nodded and took his arm. At the same moment, he heard laughter coming from the other side of the room.Beatrice!He was certain. Moreover, it was the dreaded loud laughter of which Charlotte had warned them to avoid.
Greer couldn’t help wondering what had sparked the toffee-maker’s good humor, wishing he’d been closer so he could have possibly shared in the jest.
Lady Emily shook her head. “Imagine!”
He wasn’t sure what response to make or even if she wanted one, so he continued toward the dance floor. Already a little weary from trying so hard to recall steps, Greer was mortified when the music started and he couldn’t recall what to do first, until he saw other gentleman take their partners and begin the steps.
“It’s a lancier,” his partner said softly, which he appreciated.
“I apologize,” he murmured, but by then they were already keeping step with the rest. “I’m new at this.”
“From America,” she guessed. “I like your accent.”
He smiled and really looked at her. She had a nice face, he decided.
“Thank you. I like your accent, too.”
***
BOTH THE DINING ROOMand the drawing room had been set out with refreshments, with plenty of space for everyone so they could keep the ballroom clean of crumbs and grease. Naturally, there was tea and coffee, if guests had grown tired of lemonade and champagne. And in each room was a massive spread of cold tongue, sandwiches, chicken, ham, roast beef, and bread. Everything chopped or sliced and put upon your plate by a helpful footman if you pointed to it, and all of it easily edible with simply a fork in one’s hand.
When one had finished the savories, there was trifle and tipsy cake, all manner of sweet biscuits, and of course, trays of Rare Confectionery sweets.
Greer noted the platters with Beatrice’s toffee nestled among the chocolates and small marzipan hearts with a smile. She must be in the other refreshment room for he’d seen neither her nor Miss Charlotte.
“May I suggest you have a piece of toffee or a chocolate?” he advised his companion.
Lady Emily nodded. “I was about to indulge,” she agreed. “The Duke and Duchess of Pelham have made us all so welcome. What a grand start to the Season.”
She seemed a thoughtful lady with whom he couldn’t find fault. How lucky, and at his first ball, too. They each placed sweets upon small saucers and left the table.
At that moment, their hosts strolled in to make sure their guests were having a good time.
“How is everything, Mr. Carson, Lady Emily?” the duchess asked.
“Very fine,” Lady Emily replied. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Yes,” Greer agreed. “It is the best fandango I’ve ever been to.”
The duke laughed out loud, but his duchess looked perplexed, and Lady Emily might even have gasped.
“Not a word you normally use, I take it.” Greer supposed it was a tad informal.
“No,” the duke said, “not for a ball.”
Greer felt certain Beatrice would have approved of the word. He shrugged as they moved off. Lady Emily still regarded him curiously.
“I suppose it’s like calling a New York City cotillion a barn dance.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Lady Emily said, popping a chocolate in her mouth. After she’d chewed and swallowed, she added, “Having never been to America or danced in a barn. Will you escort me back to my mother? I believe she has returned to our table.”
