Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(34)

“Julian,” she teased as he sat down to the instrument, “you know actual music isn’t required. Not for me, anyhow.”

“Humor me,” he said, shaking his fingers loose. “How shall we begin?”

“The quadrille? Surely balls still begin with the quadrille?”

He nodded in confirmation. “Place your hands flat atop the pianoforte. Lean against it, if you will.”

She complied.

“Now close your eyes.”

She did so, smiling.

His breath caught in his chest. “God, Lily. You’re so damned beautiful it hurts.”

She didn’t react, of course. He’d known she wouldn’t. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t help testing her. It was the strangest thing. He’d been that way with his mother, too. Always testing her with outlandish comments made to her back: “Look sharp, it’s an elephant!” and such.

Setting the memory aside and placing his fingers to the keys, Julian played several bars of Le Pantalon, the first figure of the quadrille. When he stopped, Lily opened her eyes.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“A bit unpleasant. It tickles all along my teeth.”

“But the rhythm. Did you recognize it? Can you visualize the steps?”

She nodded.

“Again,” he said. She closed her eyes, and he played through the same section, taking it a few bars further this time. Her fingers tapped along with the beat.

“Once more,” he directed at the end. “This time, eyes open.” He played straight through to the end of the figure, holding eye contact with Lily as together they recited the steps. “One, two, turn …,” “Now to the corner,” and so forth. At the conclusion of the sequence, he rose and offered his hand. “Are you ready to try?”

Nodding her agreement, she took his hand. Together they moved to the center of the room and queued up facing one another.

Their first attempt was over before it even began. They started with a deep, stately curtsy and bow, but when they lifted their heads, they found the parrot sitting on the floor between them, cocking his head and blinking a perplexed, beady eye. Lily dissolved into helpless laughter while Julian shooed the creature away.

They tried again, this time making it through a small section of the dance.

As they practiced the figure, the occasional feathered interruption overrode any awkwardness. For the most part. One particular segment of the pattern required them to link hands and circle one another, maintaining eye contact all the while. On each attempt, Julian lost his rhythm in those lovely eyes and stumbled over his feet. It took a half-dozen tries before they executed that turn successfully.

But they did eventually succeed, and Lily’s pleasure in their mastery of the figure was clear. Using this method, they worked their way through each section of the quadrille. First, Julian would sit at the pianoforte and play the rhythm, and Lily would “listen” with her hands. Then they would attempt the steps with varying success, avian antics depending.

The quadrille conquered, he suggested a particular country dance, one that had climbed to a new apex of popularity just this season past.

“It’s all the rage,” he said. “They’re certain to include it at the assembly.”

“I never learned that one.” Lily worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “But let’s have a go.”

It was a disaster. Though the rhythm was simple, the dance’s pattern was lively and complex. Julian attempted to demonstrate both the lady’s and gentleman’s parts, but he could only be in one place at a time.

When Lily missed her entrance cue for the fourth time running, she threw up her hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’ll never learn this. I’m wasting your time.”

“No, you’re not.”

She shook her head, obviously discouraged. “I just can’t seem to catch it. Popular or no, I’ll have to sit this dance out.”

“Don’t be distressed,” he said, grasping her by the elbows to prevent her from turning away. “We’ll try again later, or tomorrow. Every day until the assembly, if that’s what’s required. And it will go so much easier in a group, you’ll see. With dancers on either side, you can take your cue from them.”

Her chin quavered, and frustration rose in his chest. It wasn’t frustration with her, but with his inability to fix this for her. To fix everything for her.

“Lily,” he said. “It’s just a dance. You can do this. You can do anything.”

She sighed, shrugging away from his touch. “There’s not enough time. I shall have to stick to the dances I remember, never mind that they’re a decade out of fashion. If only I could recognize each dance by the music, that is. This is hopeless.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll learn the order of dances ahead of time and write it down.”

“How will you do that?”

“Easily.” Simple matter of slipping a coin or two to the orchestra leader. “You can keep the list folded in your glove. And we’ll strategize, when it comes to arranging partners.”

“There’s always waltzing,” she added. “Surely I can manage a waltz with any competent partner. I needn’t do anything but follow his lead.”

“True,” he agreed. “We can make certain you’re paired with someone you know. A good dancer. Morland would do.”