Page 21 of Destined to be a Duchess
“It’s a miracle you aren’t climbing up the walls for want of something to do then,” Anthony joked, attempting to sound as neutral as possible. He pressed his lips together, trying hard not to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. “If you disagree with our way of life, why have you agreed to become a lady when you could have returned to London?”
Marianne looked offended, and Anthony immediately shrank into himself. Her irritation passed quickly as she took another sip of her drink—then looked deeply into her glass and frowned like she saw the reflection of a hypocrite staring back at her.
“Because I don’t think I have a choice,” she said, sucking in her cheeks. “And so I may as well make the best of things. I won’t try to live easily. I will try to make a difference where I can, no matter what people think of me.”
Anthony leaned forward, wanting to apologize and ask her to explain more. Except Patrick chose that exact moment to conclude his piece. He finished with a flourish to the applause of Anthony’s mother and Miss Barclay. Anthony sighed and joined in, burning to speak with Marianne again as soon as possible.
His mother had other ideas. She called his name energetically, stopping Patrick from leaving the piano stool with a raise of her hand. His friend stood halfway, then sank back onto the stool like a well-disciplined child.
“I think it’s time you fulfilled your promise to Marianne,” Catherine said teasingly to Anthony, clasping her hands in front of her. “Why, we would be fools not to make the most of Patrick’s talent while he is here. And what a talent it is. We should discover before you set off whether Marianne has two left feet. There will be dancing at Hagram Park, don’t you think?”
“I hadn’t given the matter much thought,” Anthony muttered. He rose out of his seat, stealing a glance at Marianne. If she was seething, she was doing so quietly. “But perhaps now is not the time for—”
“Nonsense, darling,” Catherine interrupted, waving Marianne out of her seat as well. “You’ll be leaving in four days. We cannot waste a second more chatting when we could be giving Marianne her lessons. It certainly tookyoulong enough to find your rhythm.”
Anthony felt his ears burn, memories of frustrated dance teachers flashing behind his eyes. He had never been a natural dancer, and he bridled at the thought of embarrassing himself in front of Marianne, especially when she was upset with him.
“Is that not all the more reason to delay this lesson until we’ve procured a decent teacher for her?” He gestured towards Patrick. “Why not have Patrick pair with her, and I will play the pianoforte? He is obviously more musically inclined than I am.”
“Anyone would think you didn’t want to dance with the poor girl,” Patrick joked from the piano, playing a few discordant notes as though he was trying to rile Anthony up. “I’ve seen you on a few dance floors, engaged in a country reel or two. You aren’t completely hopeless, old chap.”
“And with that encouraging recommendation, I think the matter has been laid to rest,” Catherine said. She clapped for Marianne and Anthony to take their places. “Let’s start with something simple. I’ve always considered a quadrille easy enough to pick up. Aglissadehere, ajetéthere … You’ll have it mastered in no time, my dear.” She turned to Miss Barclay. “Frida, fetch Gourdoux-Daux’s ‘Principes de la danse’from the library in case we all need a refresher.”
Miss Barclay dashed out of the room more quickly than Anthony could stop her. He straightened the lapels of his jacket out of awkwardness, proceeding to the empty space by the windows his mother was pointing toward. He heard the tell-tale clacking of slippers behind him, equal parts relieved and dismayed to find Marianne following suit. Patrick was already working the ivories, quietly rehearsing a minuet while they waited.
Catherine grabbed Anthony under the arm, then did the same for Marianne, placing them in their starting positions like two begrudging dolls. Ignoring Anthony’s muttering, she skipped across the drawing room to speak with Patrick about the music.
Anthony seized his courage the moment she was gone. “I really didn’t mean—” he tried to say, only to be cut off immediately by Marianne.
“I know what you meant,” she whispered, looking up at him guiltily. “I shouldn’t have replied to you with so much bitterness. It was uncalled for. I instigated the fight with my comment on your easy life.”
“I wouldn’t have dubbed that a fight,” Anthony murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You should still accept my apology.”
“Surely it is up to the recipient of the apology to decide whether or not theyshouldaccept it?” Marianne smiled now, too, mischievously. “I do accept, and I apologize as well.”
“Good.” Anthony swallowed hard, rolling his eyes as his mother began her journey back to them. “If we are to survive this dance, we will need to be allies, not enemies,” he whispered in Marianne’s ear.
Miss Barclay reappeared at the door within seconds, handing his mother a small cloth-bound book. Catherine flicked through the pages until she found whatever she was searching for, then cleared her throat to begin instructing Anthony and Marianne on their first quadrille.
“Now, if I know Lady Hindborough, she will have instructed Eliana to favour one of the more fashionable dances,” Catherine declared. “When we met for the Season, she mentioned a preference forPaine’s First Set. I see no reason we shouldn’t begin there withLe Pantalon.”
“The Trousers,” Anthony translated, seeing Marianne frown in confusion. “Not that I imagine that helps.” He pinched the sides of his trousers. “You will want to hold your skirt and round out your arms for a start.”
“Is that why it’s called The Trousers?” Marianne asked. “Because you hold the hem of your trousers off the ground?”
Anthony held back a laugh. “No. Only the women hold their skirts. The men will be positioned like this.” He performed thebras basposition, making an oval shape with his arms, before dropping it quickly out of embarrassment.
“The names are mostly irrelevant. They will only help you to identify a dance on your card. You will hear lots of terminology tonight—my mother will want to show off her knowledge to you. But you need only try to replicate the steps. A quadrille typically involves eight dancers in a square. Sometimes, just four. For now, you will have to satisfy yourself with me.”
“That doesn’t sound like too difficult a task.” She smiled, and Anthony almost thought the expression was flirtatious. Shestared down at her slippers. “I’ve performed a few country dances before, so I’m not entirely out of my element. Show me how to position my feet before we begin.”
With a sigh, Anthony did just that.
The next half an hour passed by in a blur of clumsy footwork and wayward glances. Anthony had been forced onto a few dance floors during his time abroad. On the Continent, he had been considered charming for the simple fact of being a foreigner.
He couldn’t count on his charm to carry him through a quadrille now that he was back in England. The sequences came back to him slowly. He performed the dance as well as he could—which was to sayrigidly. If anything, Marianne seemed to pick up the steps more quickly than he did.
He watched her carefully as she performed atraverserbeside him. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she skipped along, taunting him with her head thrown over her shoulder as they separated again. It was easy to lose himself for a few moments, forgetting his mortification as she dazzled him with another laugh.
