“I’m assuming we’ve already been introduced?” he asked.
At her nod, he nodded too, and said, “Very well then. Lady Annabelle, you look lovely this evening. Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”
He bowed, and she quickly sniffed his hair before saying, “Yes, my lord. I should enjoy that greatly.” She lifted her skirts and curtsied to him.
He held out his arm, straight and firm, bent at the elbow. An excellent offering. Annabelle nearly forgot to tell him he must ensure she remained on his right.
Once her hand was firmly atop his sleeve, he led her to the center of the room, where he turned to her and pulled her into his arms as if a waltz were about to begin.
“We, ah, we’ll practice the dancing tomorrow,” she said in voice that sounded shaky even to her own ears.
“Yes, you said as much,” he breathed.
All Annabelle could think of was his nearness, his scent, the feel of his muscles beneath his coat. His hand held hers tight, sending a tingling sensation all the way up to her throat. The other hand was on the small of her back, sending unfamiliar sensations zinging around back there, as well.
“Perhaps we should…try it again?” she finally managed, swallowing the lump in her throat his nearness had caused.
“Try what?”
“You, er, you asking me to d…dance?” When in heaven’s name had she become tongue-tied?
When he’d touched her. That’s when.
“Oh, yes, of course.” He dropped her hand and pulled his other from her back, stepping away, and leaving her feeling bereft. She watched as he made the short journey back toward the door and then she returned to the place she’d previously been standing.
He came walking toward her again, the hint of a smile on his face this time, and Annabelle’s heart fluttered. He was going to touch her again, and she was greatly looking forward to it. She smiled to herself as the most delicious thought entered her mind. She could tell him they needed to try this no less than a half dozen times if she chose. He needed practice, after all, didn’t he?
Oh, this would be a fun morning. A fun morning, indeed.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, while Lady Angelina read aloud fromDebrett’s book of the peerage, David danced with Annabelle. He didn’t need much in the way of dance lessons. If there was one thing his mother had taught him, in addition to languages, arithmetic, maths, literature, and science, it was dancing. His parents had loved to dance. They danced all over the house to songs they hummed. Sometimes Mama would play the small pianoforte in the corner of their cottage. Sometimes Marianne would play it, but no matter what, there had been dancing in the Ellsworth home. David hadn’t told Annabelle that he was already proficient in dancing. First, that would seem like bragging, and second, he wanted her to be the judge of his dancing skill. For all he knew, dances in London weren’t done the same way.
“You’re quite good at this already, you know?” Annabelle said as he spun her around to a waltz she was humming.
David breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. That makes one thing I’m proficient at,” he said as they continued their three-step count.
“Not just proficient, Lord Elmwood,” Mama interjected. “Good. Quite good, indeed. I’ve seen few gentlemen who are as graceful as you are at the waltz.”
David smiled at that news. It was the first time he’d felt as if he were worth a damn as an earl. He’d been listening to Lady Angelina recite titles all morning until his head was spinning. There was little hope he’d remember all that nonsense. The layout of battlefields, the planned attack, the coordinates of the enemy, those were things that stuck in his memory as if he could see them written upon a page. But all of these lessons on manners and titles and the proper fork to use when there were five sitting on the table, such things flew from his mind like bits of gossip Marianne repeated from his Aunt Emily’s letters.
He glanced down at Annabelle. Did she regret volunteering to teach him how to be an earl? Yesterday, they must have practiced his asking her to dance over half a dozen times. He clearly hadn’t got it right, because each time he led her to the pretend dance floor in the middle of the salon, she asked him to try again.
Poor girl. He’d been in danger of wearing a hole in the floor yesterday. Today, Lady Angelina had ordered the butler to bring in a special round rug, which they were using as their makeshift dance floor.
Annabelle was kind. She didn’t have to take time out of her no doubt busy schedule to teach him to go about in Society. He owed her a favor. Actually, more like he owed her a half a score of favors, but he would start with one.
A knock sounded at the door and the butler stepped in.
“Keep dancing,” came Lady Angelina’s directive as the butler cleared his throat.
“My lady,” the butler said, “it seems there’s a slight problem at the door with the flower deliveries.”
“A problem, Stockton?” Lady Angelina asked, her brow furrowed.
“Yes,” the servant replied, looking sheepish. “The line to deliver flowers is so long two of the delivery boys have got into a tussle in the street. They are demanding to see the owner of the house.”
“Are you quite serious, Stockton?” Lady Angelina replied, shaking her head. “Well, Beau is gone on business, so I’ll go out and see to it.”
