“No, Miss Templeton, hidingwon’tdo you any good. No good at all.”
She jerked her attention back to Lord Fairmont.
“How do you get on withThe Devil’s Elixir?” He nodded at the book resting in her lap. “Has the good friar drunk the poisonous brew yet?”
She glanced down at the sketch opposite the title page of the book she’d found this morning, tucked among the other dancing manuals on a high shelf in Lady Fosberry’s library. It was a pretty sketch of a ballroom with elaborately dressed windows in the background, and in the foreground…
Dancers. Eighteen of them, the gentlemen dressed in smart, double-breasted tailcoats, and each of them partnering a lady in a ballgown with elaborate ruffles at the hem. Nine couples on the verge of embarking upon a waltz.
She’d brought the book into the parlor because she’d meant to have a private look at it before she accepted Lord Fairmont’s offer, but he’d found her out, and really, what was the sense in putting it off?
Either she was going to learn to waltz, or she wasn’t.
She took a deep breath, her heart pounding. “It’s, ah… it’s notThe Devil’s Elixir.”
“No?” He raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Once she told him, there would be no going back, but perhaps… well, perhaps she’d spent enough time going backward to last her a lifetime.
She looked up from the book and met his gaze. “It’s Thomas Wilson’sA Description of the Correct Method of Waltzing.”
He hadn’t expectedthat. For an instant, he only stared at her, his blue eyes wide, but then a slow smile curved his lips. “Is that so?”
How satisfying it was, to surprise a man like Lord Fairmont. How utterly delicious, to be the one who put such a smile on his face. Perhaps she should be worried at just how satisfying it was, how delicious.
Or perhaps she should cease worrying for once, and do as she pleased. “I do hope you don’t regret your offer to teach me, my lord. Alas, I’m not one of those ladies with a natural affinity for dancing. It’s quite a task you’ve undertaken.”
“You don’t frighten me, Miss Templeton. A challenging task is always more satisfying than a simple one.” His smile widened. “Don’t you agree?”
That smile… dear God, there was no not answering it with one of her own, was there? “We’ll see if you still think so after a day or two of dragging me about the dance floor. I daresay it will be rather like lugging a dead body through the figures.”
If she’d ever been any good at twirling about a dance floor, the idea of standing up in a ballroom with Lord Fairmont while all thetonstared at them wouldn’t have terrified her as it did.
“All these instructions.” She tapped the page in front of her. “It looks dreadfully complicated. So many circles.”
“The waltz is essentially a circle of couples moving within another, larger circle.”
“What’s this?” She turned the book toward him, so he might see the sketch.
“See the numbers here?” He pointed to the number one printed underneath the sketch of the first couple. “There are nine different positions?—”
“Nine? Oh, dear God.”
He laughed. “There’s no reason for you to look so alarmed, Miss Templeton. It’s a dance, not a beheading.” He rose to his feet as he spoke, and held out his hand to her. “Shall we, then?”
“Where are we going?” She eyed his outstretched hand, nerves fluttering in her belly.
“The ballroom, of course. You can’t learn to waltz in here, with all these settees and tables about. There’s much more room in the ballroom, and no one will disturb us there.”
“Are you quite certain, my lord, that you wish to go through with this?”
Did she hope he’d say no— that he’d changed his mind, and no longer wished to embark on this mad scheme? It would be easier that way, and yet…
Shedidn’twish it. Now she’d made up her mind to take the first step, she couldn’t take it fast enough.
She swallowed, waiting for his answer.
“I am quite certain. If the French and the Germans can manage the waltz, then you can, as well.” He reached for her hand then, caught it in his, and tugged her to her feet.
