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The maid returned and slipped into the room. ‘Please, miss, the duchess is distressed.’
‘She must get over her temper fit.’
‘She is crying.’
Bellona stopped. ‘Tears of anger?’
‘Quiet tears.’
Bellona slipped the cape from her shoulders and tossed it on the bed. ‘I’ll speak with her.’
‘Thank you, miss,’ the maid said, backing away.
Bellona knocked on the duchess’s door and walked inside. The woman sniffled, but didn’t look at Bellona.
‘You know I don’t wish to dance.’ Bellona shut the door.
‘I know.’ The duchess stared at the embroidered bit of linen in her hands. ‘If you wish to be a heathen, then you may be a heathen. I wash my hands of you. My daughter. She loved to dance. Loved the dresses. The laughter. I just thought... I just thought you would, too.’
Bellona sighed. ‘If you will help me, I will try.’
The duchess dotted her eyes dry. ‘The tutor is waiting.’
‘No. You must help me. I cannot do it without you. I cannot.’
‘You are being ridiculous.’
‘I am asking for no more than you are from me.’
‘Very well.’ The duchess stood. ‘I am too old and tired to fight you any more.’
Chapter Five
Muffled pianoforte music wafted down the hallways. Rhys stopped, listening. That wasn’t his mother playing. She’d long ago ceased, claiming her fingers hurt if she even looked at the pianoforte, though she wasn’t above persuading someone else to play for her.
Rhys trekked to the ballroom and then stared.
His mother sat in a high-backed chair similar to a queen’s throne. She held her arm out and hummed above the sound of the music, as she grasped a fan like a sceptre and let it bounce in time with her hums. A man at the pianoforte had the music before him, but his eyes were closed as his fingers moved.
Rhys recognised the other man, the dancing master who had tutored every child from every estate in the area. The man danced, his lips in a grim line as he held Bellona and led her through the steps around the room. His hair was smooth at one side and the other stood out as if someone had tugged him around by the white locks. The wench had a disastrous effect on hair. Rhys’s own was beginning to grey since he had met her. Only the duchess’s hair stayed locked in place.
But when he looked closer, his mother’s eyes were red-rimmed and he wasn’t sure Bellona’s didn’t follow suit.
‘Shoulders back,’ his mother commanded, between hums, her voice reaching a crescendo. ‘Bellona, the hand. Stop pulling your fingers from his. You are causing the tutor to miss his steps to keep you close. Hum-hum-hum. Hum-hum-hum. One-two-three. Feet. Feet. Feet. Remember the— Stop. Stop. Stop!’ Her voice rose and her fan-tip jumped up.
Bellona immediately stepped back from the man.
Standing, the duchess moved to Bellona and the dance instructor. ‘Bellona, you must simply refrain from pulling away from him. You were doing so well in the country dance, but you cannot manage one step of this dance.’ She walked behind the man and straightened his back. He winced.
‘Mr Mathers, you must, must, must pay attention as well. You do not have quite the grasp of the dance as I had hoped or Bellona would be able to do better. I will demonstrate for her. Dance with me, Mr Mathers...’ She raised her hand and stepped into his grasp.
The dance continued, with his mother and the tutor.
Bellona stood at the side. Her eyes showed dark against wan skin.
The duchess and the tutor danced round the room. Bellona breathed deeply.
‘It’s not truly difficult,’ Rhys said, walking to her side. ‘Perhaps I could show you since the instructor is lacking.’
He would hold her only for a moment. That would not cause any problems within him. He could not even remember all the women he had danced with.
Her head jerked around, as if she’d not known he was in the room. She moved back, increasing the distance between them. ‘I know. But I hate this dance. I hate it.’
‘It’s so elegant and the music is beautiful.’
‘This dance is... Your mother said some people think it improper. They are wise. To be in a man’s grasp like that...’ She shuddered.
Rhys talked softly, leaning towards her. ‘Has the tutor behaved badly to you?’
‘Just in the same terrible way he is with the duchess.’
Rhys’s head darted and he watched the couple swirl, his mother’s voice slightly louder than the music as she instructed the tutor.
‘They’re just dancing,’ Rhys said. ‘If anything, Mother is holding him too close.’
‘I cannot.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I will tell her that I cannot do this...unsuitable dance.’
