Charlotte thought she might be able to guess but shook her head in any case.
“The hermit announces thatheis Edwin!”
“Well I never. And the lost boy, er, girl, never suspected?”
“Of course not! For the hermit was ever so ragged. Then Edwin clasped Angelina to his heart and vowed they’d live and love so true, never to stray from the dale and never ever to part.”
Dinah flumped into her desk chair and let out a long romantic sigh.
Charlotte peered to the window, to the freezing fog rolling across the lawn. “And so, Dinah, what do you think that teaches us about life then?”
“Well, considering they failed to recognise one another, I’d say…” A grin curved her pupil’s lips. “If you need eyeglasses, wear them.”
They both laughed and Charlotte knew they would deal very well together, for Dinah was a delight, keen and intelligent, although with an impetuosity that could one day cause grey hairs for all concerned.
“Well, an excellent synopsis.” Charlotte circled her desk and sat. “Perhaps for the rest of the morn, we should discuss tomorrow’s Christmas ball and what will be expected of you. I am sure Miss Fanshawe’s School covered all the necessary etiquette but we will rehearse curtseys, formal introductions and comportment at the supper table.”
Dinah’s head bobbed eagerly, even her curls jumped for joy. “Thank you so much for permitting me to attend, Miss Webster. A Christmas Ball sounds soooo romantic.” Abrupt wrinkles creased her forehead. “Although I overheard Cousin Marcus say balls are dull. And that he dislikes dancing.”
Charlotte pressed a fist to her chest. Is that what he’d thought all that time ago at their Christmas ball together? When they’d danced?
But she smiled. “A Christmas ball can be anything you wish, Dinah. A time to meet old and new friends. A time to reflect or look forward. And a time, just once in a while, for romance. So I hope the duke will find some pleasure in it.”
And maybe, just maybe, she might win this damn wager.
CHAPTER FOUR
“We can seldom excite and interest if we ourselves do not feel a portion.”
PRIVATEEDUCATION:APRACTICALPLAN FOR THESTUDIES OFYOUNGLADIES.
ELIZABETHAPPLETON. 1815.
Adraught eddied the white ribbons and winter ivy that dangled from the Fitzwilliam chandeliers till they resembled windswept branches and drifting snow.
Charlotte endeavoured to remember that she was only at this ball in order to persuade Marcus to stay for Christmas, to remind him of laughter and joy, but she’d become swept up by the festivity, by recollections of the past.
She’d chatted with childhood friends, now with their own children; she’d laughed with bachelors who’d a little more breadth to their midriffs; the past was everywhere.
“Oh, Miss Webster,” Dinah gushed in between gulps of lemonade, impossible blond ringlets spiralling. “This is wondrous. And I’ve made so many friends.” And before she could take another breath, Lucy from the next valley overWansfell Pike seized Dinah’s hand, and giggling, they skipped off towards the orchestra.
Charlotte smiled and sipped her champagne, glad to see her charge enjoying herself so much.
“She’s too young to attend this ball,” grumped a grump over her shoulder.
Instead of whirling, Charlotte took her time. For the vision of Marcus in evening wear took its toll upon a woman.
A damson tailcoat clad his slender frame, a silver-grey waistcoat his chest. Black breeches snugly fitted and he wore a cravat that was indeed thoroughly starched.
Clean shaven, his handsome aspect was set to a scowl.
“It’s important for Dinah to gain experience at local affairs such as this, Your Grace, so she doesn’t feel daunted at the prospect of her future Season. I was sixteen at my first Christmas Ball. I recall my aunt wouldn’t let me dance.”
“But you did,” he stated low. “I saw you twirling alone on the balcony.”
She swallowed. “I hadn’t realised you’d seen me.” And how pathetic she must have looked. Then, at the following year’s ball, they had danced together thrice and she’d thought his eyes had declared such emotion… Yet it must all have been in her fanciful young head. “I suppose this hasn’t the sophistication of a London Christmas Ball.”
But, oh how beautiful it was.
