Page 81 of Nothing Compares to the Duke
“Miss Prescott, I hope you’ve come to save me.” The older woman blotted her flushed perspiring face with a handkerchief. “Not certain of all these steps to the dance, but I am certain my old body wasn’t made for such frolicking.”
Bella looked from the harried housekeeper to Meg and then to Rhys.
“We were giving Meg a little dance lesson,” Rhys told her by way of explanation.
“I know how to dance,” Meg protested with a sheepish glance at the young footman. “Finishing school did include dance lessons,” she told her brother. “But the quadrille has always confused me.”
“It’s far too vigorous for my taste. I’m winded. May I get on with my other duties, Your Grace?” Mrs. Chalmers asked, still breathing hard. “Miss Prescott must be far more adept than I am. Aren’t you, miss?”
“I’ve danced my share of quadrilles,” Bella told her to offer reassurance.
None of the memories were particularly pleasant ones but she didn’t dare divulge those details. Most of her ballroom experiences had been less than pleasant.
“Actually, we’re moving on from the quadrille.” Meg caught her brother’s eye and then smiled at Bella.“There is only one dance in which I truly need instruction. We were never taught it at finishing school because it was considered too scandalous.”
“The waltz,” Rhys said. “I have personal knowledge of Miss Prescott’s skill with that dance.”
He’d been gazing at her since she’d stepped into the room, and she realized she hadn’t offered him any greeting.
“Would you mind showing me?” Meg asked with a suspiciously innocent tone. “I’m sure if I saw you and Rhys performing the steps, especially if you went slowly, I could remember them.”
“There’s no music.” It was the first reasonable protest Bella could muster.
“I can hum a waltz,” Meg assured her with a cheeky grin. “I recently taught myself how to play one on the piano and I remember the tempo.”
“Wonderful,” Bella told her drily.
The misery of it was that she wanted to be in Rhys’s arms, but the prospect of being so close to him in front of Meg made her pulse jump in her throat. Certainly, her feelings for him were written all over her face.
He knew exactly how she felt, if the look on his face was any indication. As he approached, his mouth curved gently and his gaze filled with mischief. “Shall we? Waltzing together can’t be a scandal if we’re betrothed.”
“We danced the waltzbeforewe were betrothed.”
He laughed as he took her hand. “Then we’ll be even better this time.”
Bella went into his arms, one palm locked against his, and her body began to vibrate the moment he slid a hand around her waist.
“Meg, let’s have some music,” he said, never taking his eyes off of Bella’s.
Meg began humming and tapped her slippered foot on the parquet ballroom floor to indicate the tempo of the waltz.
Rhys led her into the first steps of the dance, but he was closer than any ballroom matron in London would have allowed, his chest brushing hers, their hips bumping together when they turned.
“It’s funny,” he whispered as he stepped her back and then to the side.
“What is?” Bella clasped his hand tighter. If he meant to distract her with conversation, he might end up with crushed toes.
“How long a few days can feel,” he said, his voice low.
Bella stumbled and then forgot what step they were on, so when he moved forward, she failed to step back and pulled him off-balance too.
He hugged her tight to keep them both on their feet.
“I’ve got you,” he told her, his mouth against her ear.
Meg had stopped humming and a tense silence fell over the ballroom. “Are you two all right? Shall I start again?”
“No,” Bella said before Rhys could reply. “I need to speak to you,” she told him. “Alone.”
