Earl Lessons by Valerie Bowman
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, while Lady Angelina read aloud from Debrett’s book of the peerage, David danced with Annabelle. He didn’t need much in the way of dance lessons. If there was one thing his mother had taught him, in addition to languages, arithmetic, maths, literature, and science, it was dancing. His parents had loved to dance. They danced all over the house to songs they hummed. Sometimes Mama would play the small pianoforte in the corner of their cottage. Sometimes Marianne would play it, but no matter what, there had been dancing in the Ellsworth home. David hadn’t told Annabelle that he was already proficient in dancing. First, that would seem like bragging, and second, he wanted her to be the judge of his dancing skill. For all he knew, dances in London weren’t done the same way.
“You’re quite good at this already, you know?” Annabelle said as he spun her around to a waltz she was humming.
David breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. That makes one thing I’m proficient at,” he said as they continued their three-step count.
“Not just proficient, Lord Elmwood,” Mama interjected. “Good. Quite good, indeed. I’ve seen few gentlemen who are as graceful as you are at the waltz.”
David smiled at that news. It was the first time he’d felt as if he were worth a damn as an earl. He’d been listening to Lady Angelina recite titles all morning until his head was spinning. There was little hope he’d remember all that nonsense. The layout of battlefields, the planned attack, the coordinates of the enemy, those were things that stuck in his memory as if he could see them written upon a page. But all of these lessons on manners and titles and the proper fork to use when there were five sitting on the table, such things flew from his mind like bits of gossip Marianne repeated from his Aunt Emily’s letters.
He glanced down at Annabelle. Did she regret volunteering to teach him how to be an earl? Yesterday, they must have practiced his asking her to dance over half a dozen times. He clearly hadn’t got it right, because each time he led her to the pretend dance floor in the middle of the salon, she asked him to try again.
Poor girl. He’d been in danger of wearing a hole in the floor yesterday. Today, Lady Angelina had ordered the butler to bring in a special round rug, which they were using as their makeshift dance floor.
Annabelle was kind. She didn’t have to take time out of her no doubt busy schedule to teach him to go about in Society. He owed her a favor. Actually, more like he owed her a half a score of favors, but he would start with one.
A knock sounded at the door and the butler stepped in.
“Keep dancing,” came Lady Angelina’s directive as the butler cleared his throat.
“My lady,” the butler said, “it seems there’s a slight problem at the door with the flower deliveries.”
“A problem, Stockton?” Lady Angelina asked, her brow furrowed.
“Yes,” the servant replied, looking sheepish. “The line to deliver flowers is so long two of the delivery boys have got into a tussle in the street. They are demanding to see the owner of the house.”
“Are you quite serious, Stockton?” Lady Angelina replied, shaking her head. “Well, Beau is gone on business, so I’ll go out and see to it.”
“Would you like me to take care of it?” David called, pausing in the dance. A lady of Bell’s mother’s age and station shouldn’t have to break up a street scuffle.
“No. No,” Lady Angelina said, waving a hand in the air as she stood and made her way toward the door. “Dance. Dance and make conversation as you would if you were at a real ball. I’ll be back shortly.”
The door closed behind Lady Angelina and David resettled his hand on the small of Annabelle’s back. Annabelle glanced up at him. Was it his imagination or did she look…shy? No, that couldn’t be. Annabelle wasn’t the shy sort. But why did she glance down again nearly as quickly? And why did she seem to be staring at his cravat so much? After yesterday’s lessons he’d begun to feel…warm when she’d placed her hand on his sleeve. Her nearness had caused him to breathe in the light scent of her perfume (orchids, perhaps?) and the soap she used on her hair. By the time he’d escorted her to the dance floor for the seventh time, it had been so hot in the room he’d been about to pull off his blasted cravat.
It was ridiculous to be thinking such thoughts about Annabelle. Annabelle was…his friend. A gorgeous friend, perhaps, but it wasn’t as if he had never seen a beautiful woman before. She was helping him learn how to properly court a woman, and meanwhile he was having a host of inappropriate thoughts about her that involved glancing far too often at her decolletage and clenching his jaw. He’d gone home last night and taken a very cold bath.
Today, it was worse, actually, because she was in his arms, and he’d been spinning her around and around while she prettily hummed the melody of a popular waltz. He had a perfect view of her decolletage. It took all he had in him to stare instead at a fixed point on the wall and when he did that, Lady Angelina kept telling him he should look into the eyes of his partner and make polite conversation.
“Don’t worry about Mama,” Annabelle said, pulling him from his thoughts. They continued their one, two, three steps even though Annabelle had stopped humming.
“I do hope she’s all right. Should I go check?” He would love to have a reason to leave the room. Perhaps go in search of a block of ice to sit on.
“No. Don’t worry. Mama won’t brook any foolishness from the delivery boys. You may count on it.”
David shook his head. “I suppose it was bound to happen at some point. A scuffle between the delivery boys. I mean, with that number of bouquets arriving.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “It’s a waste of perfectly good gardens, if you ask me. Besides, I’m certain the one causing the trouble is Lord Murdock’s boy.”
David’s ears perked up. “Murdock? Has he been sending you flowers?”
“Every day,” she replied with a sigh. “The largest bouquets are always from him. That’s why his boy gets into fights. Whenever there is a larger arrangement, he tries to trip the boy who is carrying it. Quite silly, if you ask me.”
David frowned. “How do you know about that?”
“Cara, my maid, told me. She talks to the footmen who’ve been out there watching the proceedings each day. A lot of foolishness.”
“Indeed,” David said, focusing on the innocuous spot on the wall once again.
“Well, I’d say you’re so good at the waltz you could teach me,” Annabelle announced, coming to a stop.
David pulled his arms away awkwardly and their gazes met before he turned away from her and quickly moved over to the mantelpiece to put some much-needed space between them. What was happening to him? It had been quite some time since he’d bedded a woman, but he didn’t usually react this way to merely dancing with one.
“What’s our next lesson?” he asked from the safety of the space about fifteen paces away from Annabelle. He was facing the opposite direction so she couldn’t see him.
Annabelle cleared her throat. “I believe Mama intends for us to dance more tomorrow. The quadrille, the country dance, the scotch reel.”
David closed his eyes. Lord, have mercy. He couldn’t spend a third morning cooped up in this house with Annabelle, touching her. He’d go mad.
“I’m quite proficient at all of those dances,” he announced. At least that was true. He said a quick prayer that his mother had trained him properly on the dances Annabelle had just mentioned. Devil take London if they danced them differently than he knew how. The waltz hadn’t been different. It stood to reason the others would be the same, as well.
“I must say, I’m becoming restless being confined to this house. I’m used to being outside more than the lessons allow.”
Annabelle’s regretful voice met his ears. “Unfortunately, nearly everything I have to teach you is best done in a ballroom or salon.”
He turned to face her, a grin on his lips. “Oh, come now. There must be something we can do that involves leaving the house. For a day, at least.”
Annabelle appeared to be contemplating the matter for a few moments before her face lit up. “Very well. Tomorrow we’ll go for a ride in the park. I’ll teach you how to behave on a carriage ride while courting a lady.”
David expelled his breath in a rush. Freedom. Sweet freedom. “That sounds perfect.”