“I daresay it is not. Thank you, Lord Fairport. I believe I shall dance.” Ophelia stood, allowing Fairport to take her hand as she did so. It made her feel younger, lighter, to have attentions such as these. Perhaps she wasn’t as miserable and alone as she’d felt in the last year, consumed with the guilt of her failure.
It was hard not to notice the look of triumph that he shot to her brother’s horde, grouped together like some kind of penguin-related spy ring.
Sliding across the parquet in her dancing slippers, she straightened her shoulders, knowing the perfect posture showed her neck in a lovely and graceful light. “I’m surprised you took the time to ask, Lord Fairport. I thought I would reside in the corner all evening.”
“You are too beautiful for that, Miss Ophelia.”
Her long gloves kept her from flicking her fingernails, but she still lightly touched her finger pads together, hoping no one would notice. Thumb, forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, pinkie, then back to thumb. Just once.
They took a position amongst the other dancers and began the opening minuet. But these steps had been drilled into her since she was a child, and they could not be unlearned even if she wanted. And Fairport was pleasing enough. He’d set his cap at Portia years earlier, and Ophelia didn’t want to be his consolation prize, but enough time had lapsed that it was unlikely.
They didn’t speak much during the dance, which was perfectly reasonable. Ophelia didn’t have anything much to say, and she was grateful to be able to count her steps, as while they were second nature, she was still a bit out of practice.
After the dance ended, Fairport returned her to the wallflower corner and offered to fetch her a drink.
“Fairport, how lovely to see you,” Ophelia’s mother said, rising to her feet.
Ophelia could see her mother already matching them up and pushing them to the altar. One dance a wedding did not make.
“You as well, my lady,” Fairport said with a gracious bow. They chatted as Ophelia let her mind drift to more interesting things.
She wondered if she might convince Sir Julian to teach her how to take the readings necessary to make a topographical map. If she could not be the mountaineer she wished to be, perhaps she could at least contribute to the world in this way. She didn’t mind some tedious tasks, as long as they were done after a strenuous hike up a mountain.
As if she had conjured him, Sir Julian appeared at her side.
“Good evening, sir,” she said, surprising even herself with how much pleasure was in her voice at the sight of him. He’d grown to be a fixture in their week, coming to call and bringing news of the Royal Geographical Society, his maps and articles. She’d even taken the time to edit his latest article after noting grammatical deficiencies in the one just published.
“I see you’ve already christened the dance floor,” he said.
Again, how different he looked dressed up in his formal attire. His black hair shone like a raven’s wing, and his dark eyes were warm and inviting. Indeed, having him stand next to all the other men here, he looked broader and fitter than most. His bearing was at odds with the rest of the company as well. Some men were ramrod straight from military service or from boarding schools for the aristocracy. But Sir Julian looked almost relaxed as he stood perfectly tall.
“I had not expected to dance this evening, but the minuet was very enjoyable,” she said. “This is the first I have been out in society since my father’s death. I did not think I would be able to enjoy it.”
His dark eyebrows raised. “Which implies that you are, in fact, enjoying yourself.”
“Indeed. Especially now that you are here.” Her cheeks flared in embarrassment. She sounded as coquettish as Justine! “I did not mean, that is, I am glad you are here, but I mean that—” she stammered.
He smiled broadly and held up his hand. One of his teeth slanted over another, she noticed for the first time. It was only apparent when he smiled that widely, which she hadn’t seen him do yet. It was a charming feature. “I understand what you meant. I did not think you meant to be forward.”
“When I am with friends, sometimes my mouth speaks ahead of me, and I say things that come out in unintended ways.” Although, she usually said things that angered or hurt her loved ones, not pleased them.
“I am flattered you consider me a friend. I would like to consider you one of mine as well.”
“Of course,” she answered.
Lord Fairport finished his conversation with her mother and caught her attention again. “It has been such a pleasant time with you, Miss Ophelia.”
“You as well, Lord Fairport.” Ophelia bobbed her courtesy and Fairport left. Her mother gave her an impressed look.
“Would you, my friend, care to take on the quadrille with me?” Sir Julian extended his white gloved hand in a formal manner.
She dropped her own hand into his. “It would be my pleasure, friend.”
