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“Well, I’m off then. The next dance is the waltz and I’m promised to Westbury. I’m glad we had this little chat, my dear.” She floated away in a cloud of silver spangles and expensive floral perfume that lingered after she left.
Putting me in my place, thought Viola.
Probably only what she deserved. Her mind had run away from her again, imagining impossible and forbidden things.
Best to stay against the wall for the rest of the evening.
His fiancée danced well but with the same self-awareness she applied to every movement, doing it not for the pleasure of it, but to be admired. She posed and smiled up at him, and then darted glances around to see who was watching, who was envious. She couldn’t simply be there in his arms; she was too aware of how dancing with him made her the belle of the ball. He was a player in the pantomime she was performing for the benefit of her rival, Lady Dexter.
“Say something scandalous and improper loud enough for everyone to hear,” she whispered in his ear.
He obliged, telling her about a few of the things she’d learn on their wedding night.
She tossed her head, projecting her tinklinglaugh to the far corners of the room. “You wicked duke. You say the most outrageous things.”
Lady Dexter watched them with ill-disguised envy, tossing her chestnut curls and whispering something to a friend behind her fan.
“Honestly, if she stares any harder her eyes will go crossed. Oh, I’m enjoying this. You’re performing your role splendidly.”
“It’s not difficult to pretend I’m a rake and a rogue.”
“Ah, but if you act scandalous with your fiancée, everyone will applaud us for it. They’ll say we’re in love and isn’t it delightful.”
He wouldn’t call this evening delightful. He hated society affairs. Too many snobbish noblemen and ladies passing judgment on him, waiting for him to do something wicked and scandalous.
Sorry, ladies and gents. You’ll have to look elsewhere for your scandal tonight. I’m on a tight leash.
Only until after the wedding.
His sisters seemed to be enjoying themselves, however, and that was the whole point. Blanche had danced every dance, and Belinda was much in demand. Bernadette had grimaced through the bare minimum of dances and was now happily huddled with her wallflower friends by the wall.
Betsy danced with her male friends if one could call it dancing. It was something far less graceful than that. She galloped, and galumphed, but judging by the smile on her face and her bright eyes she was having a grand time stomping on her friends’ toes and watching them manfully pretend it didn’t hurt.
Guilt twinged at his heart. He shouldn’t have tried to take this away from them. Viola had been right about allowing them to be young and lighthearted.
And she should do the same.
She’d danced once with the ginger-haired man and was back with his aunt on the edge of the dance floor.
Miss Chandler followed the drift of his gaze. “I saw you chatting with your music teacher, or governess, or whatever she is. Very kind of you.”
He made a noncommittal noise.
“I spoke to her just now. I’m not sure if she understands her place.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was dancing, when she should be observing your sisters.”
“I encouraged her to dance. She should be allowed to have some pleasure in the evening.”
“She’s quite old, of course, but still pretty. I suppose she could have suitors if she had a more modish gown and styled her hair differently.”
West liked Viola’s simple gown and gold sash. She made the other women look overdone. And she was only a few years older than Blanche. He liked the small laugh lines around her eyes. She was always smiling, always ready to laugh.
“I think I’ll make her one of my charity projects after the wedding,” Miss Chandler announced. “I’ll take her shopping and teach her how to dress to attract male attention.”
West liked Viola exactly the way she was. “She said she didn’t want courtship or marriage.”
