AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“There you are!” Will cried, sweeping her hand to his lips. “What are you doing hiding in here?”
“Oh… the jellies were not quite right,” she said, seeming flustered.
“I am sure the servants can deal with the jellies. Will you not come and dance?”
“I cannot spare the time to dance!” she snapped.
“No time to dance? At a ball? Eloise, come and dance with me, please,” he murmured, in his most seductive voice.
Something in her face changed, and she blushed, stammered something and grudgingly agreed. “Let me find my gloves, then. But only one pair of dances, mind, for I must check on the white soup.”
He was absurdly pleased at this evidence, however transitory, of his power over her. She had always seemed impervious to him, but here she was melting just a little. It was gratifying, and he had the rest of his life to bring her totally under his spell.
The sets were long and they were near the bottom, so they had plenty of time to talk, but she seemed distracted and he almost regretted dragging her away from the wretched jellies, if they were going to prey on her mind so. But once they were drawn into the dance, she was swept away by the music and he could almost see the tenseness drain from her.
“There! Are you feeling a little better now?” he said cajolingly, as the dances ended.
“Yes… thank you,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Shall we abandon the jellies to their fate and stand up for every dance?”
That made her laugh. “I should like that, but do you mind if I check the white soup first?”
“How humiliating to be of lesser importance than soup,” he said with a melodramatic sigh. “However, it is clearly imperative that the impending white soup catastrophe be averted. I shall patiently await your return.”
“You are very good, but I would not have you stand about watching when I am sure you had far sooner be dancing. I shall return as soon as I may.”
He let her depart on her mission, and moved towards a clearer spot to watch the dancing. Almost at once he bumped into a smiling face.
“Well, if it is not His Majesty himself! How goes the kingdom, Sire?”
He chuckled. “Well enough, I dare say, if only the pestilent French would leave us alone. And how is Good Queen Bess?”
Her eyes twinkled merrily, her restless hands playing with her fan, opening it — snap! — then closing it again — snap! Her lithe body was constantly shifting, her gold dress shimmering around her, as if she could not bear to be still. He was struck by the contrast with Eloise, who exuded a serene stillness, whereas this woman was like an over-wound clock spring.
“Raring to dance, my Liege. Shall we?”
Despite Eloise’s words, Will had fully intended to wait for her and not dance, but he found it impossible to refuse such a direct appeal. With a bow, therefore, he led her onto the floor. By some miracle, they were higher up the set this time, several couples moving aside for them, which he presumed was in compliment to his partner. Who was she, that she took such precedence? But it was more fun not to know.
He enjoyed the dance with his mystery lady so much that he stayed talking to her at the end, quite forgetting to look for Eloise again. It was only when a friend hailed them — “There you are Jemma! Do come and talk to us.” — that their little tête-à-tête was broken up. He was still smiling at the thought of Good Queen Jemma, when Eloise tapped him on the arm.
“You enjoyed your dance, I take it?”
Eloise was never angry, but there was a hint of coolness in her tone. Was it possible that she was jealous? He was definitely breaching her carapace of indifference, then.
“Thank you, yes. Is the white soup safe from disaster?”
She smiled thinly. “All is well. I must find Mrs Dalton to give her this music, and then I shall be free to dance all night, if you wish.”
He noticed now that she was carrying some sheet music. “Are the ladies to perform for us tonight?” he said, a little puzzled.
“At a ball? No, indeed, that would be most odd. This is one of my new pieces, and she asked for a copy as soon as it is published.” He frowned, unable to make sense of this, but she smiled. “Did you not know? I compose music as well as performing it. Somehow there are always tunes in my head, so I may as well put them into permanent form. Mr Ogilvy in Paternoster Row is so kind as to print them for me.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why does he print them for you? Why do you not… well, write them on paper? There is music paper, is there not?”
