Page 11 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“I don’t...” he began, trying to think of some excuse—any excuse—not to have to join them. At that moment, Lady Kepford cleared her throat.
“It’s quite remarkable that my daughter still has space on her dance-card. With Almack’s so well-attended, I’m surprised she has a dance left to spare!” She giggled in what was clearly intended to be an appealing way. Sidney swallowed.
He knew that Lady Kepford was asking him to ask Miss Highbury to dance. He looked at her daughter and he was met with a cold glare. If Lady Kepford could see some benefits to her daughter that could be gained via him, evidently her daughter could see none of them, and that lanced painfully into his heart.
“I...well...” he stammered. He looked up and saw his motherwatching him, her green eyes filled with hope, and he hastily stammered an affirmative answer. His mother smiled in relief as he did so. “I would be pleased to ask Miss Highbury if she would accompany me in a dance.”
“Of course! Priscilla, dear? You must save the quadrille for the duke.” Her mother’s gaze did not allow room for argument.
Priscilla leveled that icy stare at him. Sidney looked away.
“I will dance the quadrille with you,” she managed to say. Sidney’s heart twisted. It would have been kinder to refuse than to accept with such evident distaste.
“Well, then!” His mother smiled uncomfortably from Priscilla to Sidney and back. “Perhaps we should fetch a glass of lemonade, and then the young people will likely go to the dance floor.” She beamed at Lady Kepford. The smile did nothing to alleviate her worried look.
“Of course, Your Grace. It would be a pleasure.”
Sidney gazed at Miss Highbury. She shot him an angry glance and then stared around the ballroom. He bowed low and took her hand.
“Shall we dance, miss Highbury?” he asked politely.
Miss Highbury tensed visibly. She was wearing long white gloves that reached to her elbow like the rest of the young ladies at the ball, but nonetheless his touch seemed to burn.
“Yes,” she managed. She nodded her head, the merestinclination as she might acknowledge a servant or a troublesome shop-assistant.
Sidney walked with her to the dance floor.
The music of the quadrille started as they arrived there, for which he was grateful. They had only a few seconds to look around and find someone with whom to dance—the quadrille was danced in groups of four: two men and two ladies. He spotted Amy and he shot her a desperate look. She was standing with Henry, and she understood at once what he wanted as the music began.
“We’ll join you, Sidney!” she declared cheerily.
Sidney let out a sigh of relief and he stood with Henry, Amy and Miss Highbury.
Sidney took Miss Highbury’s hand and took two steps forward, then two back. Then Miss Highbury and Amy joined hands and all four of them stepped forward, then back. Then he and Henry stood still while Amy and Priscilla stepped sedately around them. The quadrille was extremely formal and stately. It was a dance Sidney usually enjoyed, since it required memory work but not much innovation. Once he had learned the steps he didn’t need to think.
“I do like a quadrille,” Amy sighed contentedly as they walked past each other. Sidney inclined his head. He glanced over at Miss Highbury, but she was making no attempt to converse with him or with anyone else. She held her head aloft, a stony expression upon her countenance, as though someone had requested her to traverse the foul refuse of all London.
That’s what she thinks of me,Sidney thought miserably.I am truly that repellent, that awful to her.
He looked over at the quartet. The music seemed to have changed key, which was good, since that meant they were at least halfway through. His mind did not need to focus on the steps—he was a good enough dancer that he could let his thoughts drift a little while his body did the steps.
His gaze roved the ballroom, but he could not see the mysterious lady from the gallery. He pushed away the thought angrily. If this young lady was finding it almost impossible even to glance upward at him occasionally, then that young lady would doubtless be repelled as well.
The music slowed and he glanced at Amy, who still looked happy. He felt his spirits lift.
The quadrille came to a close and he bowed low to Miss Highbury, who dropped the briefest curtsey.
“I must find my mother,” she said in a clipped, cold voice.
“As you will,” Sidney murmured. He gazed out over the ballroom. Having been praised for his handsomeness as much as for his dancing, the pain of her attitude was more than he could bear. He inclined his head to Amy, trying to hide the pain in his face.
“I will go out for a moment to get some fresh air,” he told her as evenly as he could. “It is very hot.”
“Of course, Sidney.” She glanced at Henry. “I would comewith you, but it looks like Henry is involved in a discussion here.” She gestured to where he stood talking to some men in army dress uniform. Sidney nodded.
“I’ll be but a minute. Thank you, sister,” he said briefly. In some ways, it would be easier should Amy stay indoors. He was terribly afraid he might cry, and he did not wish for her to see him.
He shouldered his way through the crowd, gazing out over the majority—who were shorter than him—to spot the doors.
