Page 31 of The Viscount's Pearl
“Follow the music?”
Laurence listened to the waltz coming from upstairs, then took a few steps, his body swaying to the music. “Like that.”
“Without counting?”
He gave a chuckle. “Without counting.”
“I am not sure I am able.”
He held out both hands. “Try.”
She hesitated.
“Please.”
She took a few steps towards him and he let go of the door to do the same, meeting her in the centre of the small room. Gently, he offered his hands again and she placed hers in his.
He listened again and saw her doing the same. He moved her hands a little, to and fro to the music. “Like that.”
She frowned. “But the steps…”
He took a step closer, placed his right hand on her waist and nodded to her to do the same to him. Her left hand clasped in his, he raised it, so that they were now looking at each other through a circle made of their arms. Again, he swayed back and forth to the music without moving his feet. He watched her lips and saw them move silently.
“No,” he reminded her. “No counting.”
“But…”
“Tell me about the shells,” he said, still moving them both slightly from side to side.
“What about them?”
“How you chose the patterns.”
Her furrowed brow became smooth. “The sunburst was the hardest, I had to find shells with a yellowish tint to them and there are not so many, then I found the rose-tinted ones to contrast against them, as an outline for the sun’s rays…”
He tightened his hold on her waist and began to move his feet and she, trained in the correct steps to take, followed his leadbut she stopped speaking and her lips moved again in silence. Laurence smiled down at her, shaking his head again.
“The shells?”
“I started with the flower shapes, the sunburst came later. The last ones were the ripples, as a border. But I have run out of space and there is nowhere else for them to go that is private. I decorated the rotunda, but I do not like to go there with other people.”
“What do you think about when you are placing them?”
Her body softened as she relaxed. “I look at their colour, I feel the shapes and textures of them and think how they would go together, how this shell might look next to another, of shells in the past which would have suited the placement and where I might find more of the same…”
She was dancing. Her body was swaying to the music as she spoke, her feet were taking the correct steps and as Laurence gently steered them in a circle and she could see the shells all around her he could see her taking them all in, both their individual beauty and the shapes and colour shifts they created together. Laurence remembered for a fleeting moment his thoughts, his desires when he had seen her walk through the sea, how he had wanted to put his hands on her and feel the warmth of her body, as he was doing now. There was a softness to her, a gentleness he had rarely seen. Her wide grey eyes contained an expression that was peaceful, even happy.
“… Lord Barrington says he will take me further afield, to Whitstable, where the strandline is very full of shells. He said we will fill a carriage with them,” she went on, with a laugh.
Laurence smiled down at her. She was so wrapped up in what she was saying that she did not realise that she was dancing far better than he had seen her dance all evening, graceful and fluid in her movements, easily following the music.
“You are dancing,” he said.
She stumbled at once, but then, to his surprise, regained the rhythm.
“I am,” she said, and smiled up at him, a wide, open smile which he had not seen before. “Thank you. When I think of the shells it is so much easier. I will try to remember that when I dance with my next partner.”
Laurence suddenly felt uncomfortable, as though, rather than a compliment, she had said something disagreeable. “You are welcome,” he said stiffly, lowering his arm and unclasping both her hand and waist. “We should probably return to the ballroom, I would not wish for our absence to be noted and commented on.”
