Page 44 of A Duchess for his Family

She placed her hand on his arm, nevertheless. As they walked toward the open doors, Benedict found himself anticipating the following afternoon with an enthusiasm entirely disproportionate to the improvement in Sophia’s dancing.

He suspected, with growing certainty, that the lessons would be of very little educational value.

He intended to conduct them thoroughly all the same.

“Uncle Nathaniel says the first rule of dancing is never to trust a gentleman who counts aloud.”

“I said no such thing,” the Duke of Redgrave protested. “I said never to trust a gentleman who counts badly.”

Marjorie dissolved into laughter. Amelia tried to preserve a more dignified expression, but it trembled at the corners until she surrendered and laughed, too.

Sophia sat beside them in Rivermere Hall’s smaller drawing room, warmed by the fire and the afternoon light spilling through the tall windows. The furniture had been pushed back to clear a space upon the carpet, though no dancing had yet begun. For the moment, there was only talk of it: rules, steps, partners, and all the disasters the Duke insisted might occur when any of the three were neglected.

This was the first time Sophia had met him. He was not much like Benedict, though there was something in the easy confidence of his posture that suggested the two men had known one another long enough to dispense with ceremony. The Duke smiled readily, spoke lightly, and possessed the rare talent of teasing children without ever making them feel small.

The twins trusted him without hesitation. Marjorie interrupted him freely. Amelia corrected him when he exaggerated. Neither watched his face for signs they had gone too far. Sophia found herself relaxing because they did.

“What is the second rule?” Amelia asked.

The Duke considered gravely. “Never dance with a person who looks at the floor more fondly than they look at you.”

Sophia gave him a suspicious glance. “I begin to think these rules have been invented for my benefit.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “They are universal principles.”

Marjorie leaned forward. “What is the third?”

“Never agree to dance with anyone whose shoes are too polished.”

Amelia frowned. “Why?”

“Vanity.”

“Or cleanliness,” Sophia suggested.

The Duke looked wounded. “Miss Norton, I hoped you would support me.”

“We have only just met. You have not yet earned such loyalty.”

Marjorie clapped her hands. “I like her answer.”

“So do I,” he smirked. “Though I feel it sets a dangerous precedent.”

Sophia smiled despite herself. She’d expected Rivermere to feel formal that afternoon. The very thought of Benedict’s promised lesson had made her restless since breakfast. She’d imagined stern correction, precise instruction, and the distinct possibility that he would regard every misstep as evidence of moral decline.

Instead, she had found the girls waiting eagerly in the drawing room and the Duke of Redgrave already seated among them, claiming that dancing was merely walking complicated by pride.

It was difficult to remain anxious while Marjorie attempted to demonstrate a minuet with the solemnity of a courtier and the balance of a young foal.

“You are meant to bow first,” Amelia reminded her.

“I did bow.”

“You nearly struck the table.”

“The table stood too near.”

“That is what Lord Ashcombe said at the ball,” Sophia observed.