Page 30 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
Over the last few days, she had been poked with sewing needles as dresses had been altered, squeezed into the most uncomfortable underclothes one could fathom, learned far too much about the gossip of thetonand attempted to remember confusing rules about cutlery etiquette for dining. And now the worst of all she had to learn remained…she swallowed hard and rolled her shoulders that ached with tension. She had to learn to dance.
And with a duke…theDuke.
She groaned inwardly. She needed a pep talk from Ophelia and Trudy, but they weren’t here. She bit her lip. What would they say?
Go in with your head held high. You can do this.
She imagined Ophelia’s sweet voice and how she would hold her hands and encourage her.
If you do not go in, I will open the door and shove you in.
She smirked at what she imagined Trudy would say.
Hattie lifted her head, squared her shoulders and knocked lightly on the door. She could and would do this. She had made an agreement for Millie’s sake, which she would honour. If this plan of theirs wasn’t successful, Hattie would still leave with a recommendation of employment from the Duke for herself, Trudy and Ophelia, her pay, and a lump sum to begin anew elsewhere. Either way, she would be protected, she reminded herself. And this…this was simply another adventure.
Even if she fell flat on her face, she was doing something new and different. Right? The click-clacks of heeled steps on the hardwood floors echoed louder towards the door and her eyes flew open.
Her heart began to race. Her body heated. Was it too late to flee?
Stand your ground, Hat. It is only dancing.
Trudy was right. Hattie needed to stand her ground.
The door opened and Lady Buchanan stood before her with a smile. ‘Just in time, my dear. I was cueing up the pianoforte.’ She winked, clutched Hattie’s gloved hand and pulled her joyfully into the enormous and equally gorgeous ballroom. Hattie’s limbs felt tingly and light at the sight of it. The grandeur of the space stopped her in her tracks and she stood staring at the room before her that was being transformed for a ball.
‘It is absolutely gorgeous,’ she murmured as she took in the large wooden floors gleaming with the afternoon light splashing along them and the high ceilings and moulding. The most glorious crystal chandelier she had ever seen glistened above her and tables with pristine white cloths and silver had been nested in between the windows. An area for musicians had been assembled near the pianoforte and the grand dual staircase that led to the top floor curled gracefully to the dance floor like the open arms of a mother’s welcoming embrace.
‘That, my dear, is where you will make your grand entrance,’ Lady Buchanan said, pointing to the landing at the top of the stairs.
Hattie gulped. ‘There?’ she asked.
‘Yes. We all will. You will be announced at the top of the stairs and then come gracefully down.’
‘And I will be with you, Miss Potts,’ His Grace added, emerging from the other end of the room. Hattie had not even seen him. He cut a fine figure in his suit and gloves. Her throat went dry. His handsomeness was becoming quite a distraction.
‘It shall not be so bad,’ Daphne offered.
‘And if I fall down the stairs?’ she murmured.
‘You will do no such thing,’ Daphne added, rubbing Hattie’s shoulder.
‘Are you ready to learn a few dances, Miss Potts?’ His Grace asked. ‘My cousin tells me it is important for us to appear comfortable with one another as dance partners for the ball, so that we are believable as a couple. The only way to do that is practise, but I must confess I do not enjoy dancing as much as I should.’
‘Do ignore him, my dear. His Grace is a fine dancer, but lacks confidence, which is shocking, I know. While in all other areas he is a touch arrogant, he isnoton the dance floor,’ she teased, and he shot her daggers.
Hattie laughed, immediately put at ease by their banter. It reminded her of Ophelia and Trudy when they were at odds about something ridiculous. Hattie relaxed her hands by her sides. ‘What shall we learn first? I am hopeless at all dancing and have never been to a ball.’
They stilled and studied her. ‘Never?’ The Duke of Wimberley asked.
‘No, Your Grace. There are not many reasons to go if one is not invited and there were few invitations for such frivolities growing up in an orphanage.’
He shook his head and a bit of colour heated his cheeks. ‘Apologies. It was a foolish question.’
His discomfort somehow put her at ease. Instead of feeling embarrassed, it felt good to tell the truth and to not hide it from them. ‘You would not have known, Your Grace. Our worlds are quite…opposite.’
‘You are gracious, my dear,’ Lady Buchanan replied as she settled in at the pianoforte. ‘Why don’t we begin with learning the steps of an English country dance? If that goes well, we will build in the Scottish reel.’
Drat.
