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Chapter three
Astormhowledoutsidethe townhouse walls. Lightning crackled, followed by the roar of the thunder while the soft light of a dozen candles lit a tiny patch of a vast ballroom.
Music flowed around the dimly lit room, echoing against the walls. Olivia did her best to follow the music and not pay attention to the raging storm outside. She loved the rain, and she’d rather watch it from behind the window, wrapped in her blanket with a book in her lap. But she had to pay attention to the dance. She must not falter. Her future depended on it.
One more step, and another—
She tripped on her petticoat and nearly tumbled to the floor. Luckily, her father was right beside her. He helped her straighten and held her by her shoulders to make certain she was steady.
“It is of no use,” Olivia grumbled.
“You are holding your skirts wrong, my darling,” her mother called from behind the piano.
“That is not the issue. I cannot feel where I am stepping if I am not looking at—where I am stepping.” Olivia started chewing on her lip nervously.
“Do not worry so, little one,” her father consoled her. “With enough practice, you’ll be able to dance just like the queen in no time.”
“I’ve had a lifetime of practice, Papa. I don’t think that’s the issue.”
“Watch your hands, dear,” her mother called again.
Olivia’s gaze snapped back to her hands. She was picking at the fingertips of her gloves. She was bound to make them transparent again. Her nervous habit was costing her a wardrobe. But it wasn’t like it was so easy to give up. Nor was it easy to learn to dance.
“I’ve had five dance tutors, and you both know it,” she said irritably. “If they couldn’t teach me, how can I learn it myself?”
Her mother stood gracefully from the piano bench and glided toward Olivia with soft, elegant poise. How was it possible that such a perfect creature had born such a clumsy and uncoordinated being as Olivia?
“Go and play something for us, dear,” her mother said, walking toward the viscount. “We shall show you how easy it can be.”
Olivia ambled toward the piano and carefully sat before it. She took a deep breath and started playing from memory. Her fingers pressed the keys with little effort as she played an often rehearsed melody.
She was as proficient at the pianoforte as other ladies of high society. This was her only virtue. She wasn’t as talented as her friend Annalise. She couldn’t compose or improvise, but after dozens—no, hundreds—of hours playing the same melody, it stuck to the point that she didn’t even seem to control her fingers.
Why she couldn’t just as easily learn to dance was a mystery to her. Her fingers ran against the keys of their own volition while she watched the tender gaze with which her father looked at her mother, her mother’s soft smile playing about her lips.
Their hands touched, and it was like magic. The rest of the world disappeared, and nothing else existed except for the couple before her. Her parents.
They seemed oblivious to the surrounding world. Yet, they moved gracefully with the music. As the melody ceased, her mother looked over her shoulder at Olivia.
“See? With the right partner, it is very easy.”
With the right partner.Olivia swallowed loudly.Shall I find it as easy dancing with Bradshaw?
“You just need more practice, little one,” her father chimed in. “You may have had five tutors, but that was ages ago. When was the last time you danced at a ball?”
Olivia hung her head.
“Now, now. Do not despair. Why don’t we invite St. John over for supper one night? Your mother will play, and you can practice with him. I am certainly too old for such rigorous activity.”
Olivia heaved a sigh. “I am not certain he’d be amenable. I am equally uncertain that practice can make me a better dancer. I rather wish Br—gentlemen—would notice me for who I am.”
Her father looked at her softly. “This is not how the world works, little one. Otherwise, you’d long be married. You need to act the way the world expects you to act. Which, unfortunately, includes dancing.”
“And sewing, and not constantly picking at your fingertips.” Her mother walked toward her and patted her on the back.
Olivia straightened instantly.
“I wish the world would accept you the way you are too, my child,” her mother added softly. “Because you’re gorgeous just the way you are. But the world is cruel. Do not let them hurt you even more. Please, try to blend in.”
