I can do this. It is as simple as walking.
If walking was the same as slipping on ice while trying to stay as tall as a tree.
She took the steps a little at a time, first moving forward with her left foot, then using her right to step to the right. When she brought her feet together without the book falling, she expelled the breath she had been holding.
Maybe this is not as difficult as I thought it would be.
Her skirts swished around her ankles, almost tangling around them as she stepped back with her right foot. Blood rushed in her ears as her pulse pounded and the book wobbled.
Please do not fall. Please do not fall.
The poetry book remained on her head, steady as she stood still and counted her heartbeats. She fixed her posture a little. It was enough to keep the book steady as she stepped sideways with her left foot.
Her hip nudged into something hard. The corner dug into her flesh as she tried to remain standing tall and perfect.
However, the poetry tome had different ideas.
The book slammed into the table to her right, nearly toppling an oil lamp onto the floor.
“Blasted thing.”
Isabelle knew her mother would be scandalized to hear her language. The Dowager Duchess would likely put her back on a ship to America.
In that moment, she could not bring herself to care. It felt as though her life was crumbling down around her, and it was all at the hands of others who thought they knew what was best for her.
Five
Felix snorted just outside the drawing room doors. If Edith heard the imp cursing, she would send for a carriage to take her to the docks immediately.
He paused for a moment, deliberating whether it was wise to enter the room and talk to Isabelle. She would surely be surly after what sounded like another torturous lesson.
And yet, there were matters at hand he needed to speak with her about that could not wait.
In particular, her disdain for marriage.
Felix pushed open the door to the drawing room just as Miss Alden planted the book of Roman poetry on her head and took a step forward with her right foot.
He leaned against the wall, crossing one leg over the other at the ankle. “Are you aware you are dancing the man’s steps?”
The book slipped from her head and caught on some of the pins in her hair. As the book struck the ground her pins fell and several tendrils of her raven hair fell loose.
She spun to glare at him. “I knew that.”
“I doubt that.” he teased, nodding to the book on the floor. “The cover has seen better days. I do not believe that cursing at it is going to make you a better dancer. Especially if you are going to curse at your dance partner.”
Isabelle’s cheeks flared a brilliant shade of red. “Please do not tell the Dowager Duchess.”
“She would surely send you packing.” Felix pushed away from the wall and walked over to the piano, looking over the sheet music. “Interesting that Mama is teaching you the waltz. She has always thought it improper.”
“Your sisters wished for her to teach me something more modern. They wanted reels and she settled for a waltz, Your Grace.”
“Ah, so you do have manners.” Felix smirked at her as he looked up from the music. “I was beginning to find them lacking. I thought that I would have to tell your future husband that it would be better for him to see you off to your private salon with books so you cannot insult him.”
“I have yet to insult you.” She picked up the book before adjusting the crooked lamp on the table. “Your Grace.”
Felix chuckled and stood upright. “I think that you should spend a little more time on your dancing lessons. The first ball is rapidly approaching, and Lord Westshire shall be eager to dance with you.”
“Your Grace, please do not fill my dance card with loathsome men. I would rather spend the evening tucked in a quiet corner of the room with a book.”
