Luella’s shoulders slumped the slightest bit. “I can’t help but worry that everyone, no matter how diligent you are with shoring up my somewhat questionable manners, will see straight through me.”
Camilla tilted her head. “Did you ever consider that having everyone see you dressed properly and not sporting dirt all over your face may result with them finally seeing you for who you truly are, and not the Luella they thought they knew because they’ve allowed your deviation from expected normalities to cloud their impression of you?”
“They’re not going to change their minds about me merely because I’m wearing a pretty dress and know how to dance.”
“I doubt anyone even knows how graceful you are on the dance floor because you told me you’ve never attended a formal ball, and the family gatherings you attend, where you mentioned you learned how to do reels and even to waltz, weren’t attended by anyone other than family.” Camilla smiled. “I imagine, when you and Charles take to the floor soon, every one of our guests will be amazed at how competent you already are with the steps.”
“I’m only competent because you and Leopold thought it would give me a distinct advantage if I knew the steps before everyone else and have been making me practice for hours every day.”
Bernadette dragged the vanity stool over and took a seat directly across from Luella. “If you’re about to proclaim that dancing for hours on end in the arms of Charles has been a hardship for you,save your breath, because I’ve been popping in and out of your lessons and you’re always smiling.”
“I highly doubt I’m smiling when I’m on the floor with Owen instead of Charles, though, because my brother, if you’ve neglected to notice, has trampled my toes too many times to count, and given his size, it’s not a circumstance to smile about.”
Bernadette waved that aside. “Your brother is just as competent as you are on the floor. He merely gets distracted.”
“By what?” Luella asked.
“It’s more of a whom than a what as he likes to watch Miss Camilla play the piano, or...” Bernadette smiled rather slyly. “Perhaps he just enjoys watching her, no matter what she’s doing.”
Camilla felt heat settle on her cheeks when Luella and Bernadette both turned speculative gazes her way, but before she could think of anything to say to that, Luella sat forward.
“I’ve been wondering why you haven’t partnered Owen even once during our lessons, especially when you clearly want Owen and me to have an advantage over the dancers who’ll be arriving today for what is supposed to be everyone’s first introduction to this particular quadrille. If you ask me, since you and Owen haven’t practiced together, you won’t be accustomed to dancing with each other and won’t be nearly as competent as Charles and I.” Luella gave her nose a rub. “I guarantee you if Owen gets distracted by merely watching you play the piano, he’ll definitely get distracted and trample your feet once the two of you grace the floor for the first time.”
Bernadette also sat forward. “I think the question of the hour is, whyhaven’tyou danced with him yet?”
In all honesty, it was a question she’d prefer leaving unanswered because . . . she’d avoided taking to the floor with Owen because he made her feel things she’d never truly felt before—fluttery things that left her slightly breathless.
She didn’t like feeling all fluttery where Owen was concerned because he wasn’t the sort of man she’d ever thought she’d be attracted to, but attracted she most assuredly was.
It was the oddest thing, this fascination—or perhaps it was almost a case of infatuation—she held for Owen, because after the fiasco with George, she’d truly thought she was immune to gentlemen in general, but that didn’t seem to be the case with Owen.
Nevertheless, infatuated or not, it wasn’t something she was willing to pursue, not when she certainly hadn’t had a change of heart about endorsing spinsterhood, and besides that, Owen hadn’t given her the slightest indication he was even remotely infatuated with her.
Yes, he’d presented her with daisies, an incredibly sweet gesture, until she’d had a moment alone to think about the matter and had realized that, because it was Owen, who seemed to be a man who took criticism to heart and then strove to correct whatever problem had been pointed out to him, he’d undoubtedly given her the daisies to prove that he could be romantic if the need arose, and what was more romantic than presenting a lady with flowers she’d proclaimed were her favorite?
“I think we’ve stumped her,” Bernadette said, which left Camilla blinking back to the situation at hand, one where Bernadette and Luella were now exchanging knowing looks, as if they’d been able to read her thoughts—a concerning idea, if there ever was one.
She lifted her chin. “I’m not stumped, and there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why I haven’t danced with Owen yet—that being I was in charge of playing the piano. It’s rather difficult to dance effectively when there’s no music.”
“Leopold volunteered to take over for you on the piano,” Luella pointed out.
“True, but if you’d ever heard Leopold play, you’d know he’s not proficient when it comes to that particular instrument. I was merely sparing the state of everyone’s sense of rhythm by graciously refusing his offer.”
“A likely story,” Bernadette said, her eyes twinkling. “In my less-than-humble opinion, I think it’s more likely that Mr. Chesterfield makes you nervous, and since you’re not a lady who’s prone tonerves, you’ve avoided taking to the floor with him for as long as you possibly could.” She smiled. “It’ll be interesting to watch your performance with him today.”
Given that she’d be dancing with Owen while surrounded by a roomful of other dancers, Camilla was relatively convinced she’d be quite capable of dancing with him exactly like she’d danced with hundreds of other gentlemen she’d taken to the floor with over the years.
“I think it’s going to be interesting to watch the reactions of all the other dancers when they realize Owen and I have the advantage of already knowing the steps,” Luella said, sparing Camilla a response to Bernadette’s nonsense. “Frankly, I’ve been feeling a little guilty for our advanced instructions and have been wondering if that’ll cause some ill feelings with everyone who’s accepted their invitations for lessons.”
Camilla waved that aside. “There’s no need to worry since I would bet good money that Ada Mae, after she responded to my invitation and said she’d be delighted to play the piano for us, set about finding a dance instructor who knew at least the rudiments of the quadrille.” Camilla smiled. “Mothers like Ada Mae realize the importance of these types of practices and know that they need to prepare accordingly.”
Luella’s brow furrowed. “Did you ever have to practice steps before going to practice?”
“Of course. I used to attend the Family Circle Dance Class, sponsored by none other than Ward McAllister, the social arbiter of the Four Hundred, but my mother always brought in my personal dance instructor before I attended a single Family Circle Dance Class practice session. Believe me when I tell you that everyone present knew the steps before the cotillion leader ever stepped foot on the dance floor.”
“If you ask me,” Luella began, “all this extra practice seems counterproductive, but tell me this—were you as surprised as I was that Ada Mae accepted the invitation, as well as everyone else we invited?”
“Not when I knew Sally and Curtistine would rush to the McLure House last week and immediately inform everyone that Charles, an esteemed—and need I add, available—member of the Four Hundred, is currently a guest of the Chesterfield family. Gossip about him must have spread like wildfire, and I’m sure every mother of every young lady we invited took this past week to dither over what gown their daughter should wear today.”
