“Not at all.” She shook her head.
David expelled his breath while rocking back and forth on his feet. “I suppose after seeing war, nothing is as daunting, but make no mistake, I’d much rather be on a battlefield than meeting ladies at balls. I’m certain to make a complete cake of myself.”
Annabelle frowned. “I cannot believe a man as handsome as you are would be worried about attracting ladies.”
David cracked a grin. “Perhaps it’s because a very attractive lady once read me the riot act in a garden.”
Annabelle couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he’d called her ‘very attractive.’ “But seriously, why would you be worried about meeting ladies?”
“I don’t know,” David replied, pacing in front of the fireplace. “I wasn’t worried about meeting ladies in Brighton. But I won’t be meeting ladies from Brighton at the Talbots’ ball. I’ll be meeting ladies from London.”
“Ladies from London cannot possibly be much different from ladies from Brighton,” Annabelle assured him, having absolutely no idea if she were speaking the truth. But regardless, the man was anxious, and she wanted to do whatever she could to make him feel more comfortable. Besides, how different could the ladies in Brighton possibly be? Marianne was lovely, and she was from Brighton.
“I knew the ladies in Brighton. I grew up with the ladies in Brighton,” David continued, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck. He was quite cute when he was nervous. “I’m certain to say something rude to a lady from London that will mark me a clod immediately. I’m likely to ask to borrow her finger bowl at the dinner table or something equally ill-mannered.”
Annabelle eyed him carefully. He’d said it as if it were a jest, but she sensed something deeper behind his words. Could it be that he was truly worried about the sillytonand all its nonsense? Why, this man had nearly given his life for his country. He spoke Spanish. He saved a baby hare. He was a better man than most of the fops and blowhards strutting around theton’s ballrooms in their peacock-like ensembles, dandies who’d never performed an honest day’s work in their lives.
“You’ll do fine,” she assured him. “Besides, I’ll be there, and Mama and Marianne will be too. We’ll make certain you don’t make a cake of yourself.”
David stopped and braced a hand against the mantel. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I’m afraid my cakelike status is nearly inevitable.”
“Please give me more credit, my lord. I am your tutor after all.”
David dropped his arm and turned to look at her. “Quite right. I’m terribly sorry. Of course.” The tension seemed to drain from him. He straightened his shoulders. “I do have the best tutor in Society. If you cannot help me, I cannot be helped.”
Annabelle shook her head. “Nonsense. You can and you shall be a model of societal propriety. Today I plan to teach you how to ask me to dance, how to bow while I curtsy, how to take my hand and lead me to the dance floor at a ball. Tomorrow we’ll move on to the actual dancing.”
“Most of our dances in Brighton were public. Is there another way to go about asking at a private ball?”
Annabelle contemplated the question for a few moments. “First, you should know that you cannot ask a lady to dance without a proper introduction. But that shall not be a problem as Mama will be there to perform the introductions. And if Mama cannot, we shall employ the skills of Lady Talbot, as she is the hostess.”
“Very well. That sounds reasonable.” David smoothed his hand down his shirtfront once again.
Annabelle brought her hands together and folded them primly in front of her. “Now. Let’s begin by you showing me how you would currently ask a lady to dance at a ball.”
Nodding, David stepped toward her.
Annabelle sucked in her breath. He was only a pace away from her, towering over her and smelling so good, she wanted to bury her face in his neckcloth. She stared directly at it so she wouldn’t be so distracted by his penetrating eyes. “Tell me. Did your valet tie your cravat for you this morning?”
David chuckled. “I don’t have a valet. Can’t quite wrap my head around the notion of someone dressing me each day.”
Annabelle let out a small gasp.
David scrunched up his nose. “I suppose if I don’t have a valet, it’ll make me the most unconventional earl in town, won’t it?”
Annabelle considered it for a moment. “I don’t see why youmusthave a valet. But perhaps Beau can enumerate their merits.”
David sighed. “Believe me. He’s already tried. Instead, I tipped his man to show me how to tie several of these ridiculous knots in my cravat.”
“You must be a quick learner. It looks perfect.” She gulped.
“I was an army man, not a navy man, but I suppose tying a knot or two isn’t terribly difficult. And if I’m doing it correctly, perhaps I don’t need a valet after all.” He winked at her.
He most certainly was doing it correctly. He looked like a dream, and smelled like one, too.
She swallowed and stared at his cravat again. “Go on, then. Pretend I am a lady on the sidelines of a ballroom. Ask me to dance.”
Clearly quite willing to play the game, he walked away, nearly to the door of the salon, turned, and came striding back toward her, staring at her intently as he made his way to her side. For a split second, Annabelle wished they truly were at a ball, and he truly was about to ask her to dance. The fops who usually asked her to dance never looked that focused on her, and so intent to win her over. But he waspretending, she had to remind herself. This was merely a lesson.
