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“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Oh, call me Abigail, dear. We are soon to be family.” The Dowager leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Nora’s cheek. “Now that is settled, I have so much to do to prepare for the wedding. I’ll let the two of you get to know each other better while I begin the necessary planning.”
With that, she moved sedately and quickly through the door.
Alone at last with his soon-to-be bride, Arthur found himself strangely reticent. “I... you accepted.” The words felt clumsy on his tongue.
“I did, Your Grace.”
“Arthur. You should call me by my name if we’re to be married. My given name is Arthur.”
“Arthur. I suppose it is appropriate that you should know my given name is Eleonora. I prefer Nora, however, for reasons that are my own.” She met his gaze steadily with her own. She had lovely eyes, he noticed, like the sea at midday.
“Nora then. I…” He shifted his weight, entirely uncertain how to begin with her. It was so simple when he was courting a lady for a tryst and no more. “I suppose…”
“Oh, Arthur, you’ll have to do better than that.” Both of them started as his mother reappeared in the doorway. “Talk to the girl. I am sure you know how. And get to know her, or thetonwill know as soon as your first public appearance together that something is amiss. And it would not do to have our little ruse discovered.”
Her eyes turned distant for a moment, then cleared. “Speaking of public appearances… there is that ball next week. That should be a splendid opportunity, I should think. Only... do teach Nora how to dance, at least the Allemande. Best if she has time to practice with you before the ball.” And with that, she was gone again.
Arthur blinked, then turned back to Nora, who looked just as befuddled by his mother’s cheery disposition and energy as he did. “Well…”
Dancing. He knew how to dance. He could teach her.
He smiled at her and offered his hand, along with a courtly bow. “Shall we, my dear? I own that I think I’m a rather good dancer and perhaps a good teacher as well.”
She smiled, the first genuine smile he thought he had ever seen from her and took his hand with a slight curtsy of her own. “Well then, my... Arthur.” A curl of heat moved through him at the sound of her voice pronouncing his name. “Do lead on, and we shall see if you can suit actions to words.”
“So we shall.” He smiled, feeling something relax as he led her downstairs to a small room mostly cleared of furniture. “So we shall.”
* * *
The Duke, Arthur, she amended in her thoughts, was an excellent dancer.
He accommodated their difference in height with a skill she had not expected and led with a gentle courtesy that was quite pleasant. And he was quite a fair teacher, leading her through the steps so lightly and easily that they might have been partners for years.
She was tempted to step on his toes. It was what she would have most likely done had she really been just learning to dance for the first time.
It was what she had done to her father more times than she cared to remember.
Her father. He had taught her to dance young, after the first time she had snuck out of her bed and practiced halting and wobbly steps following one of her parent’s rare balls. He had caught her, and instead of scolding her, he had laughed and bent himself almost double to lead her through some of the simplest steps of the most popular country dance at the time.
The next time they hosted an event, he had instructed the musicians to play the song for that dance first and guided her through the steps on the floor, letting her perch on his toes when the pace became too much for her short, chubby legs at the time.
He had been so considerate of her as a child, so gentle and loving. It was hard to reconcile the man of her memories with the man who had disowned her four years ago. Even harder to recognize him in the man who had written the cold and insulting letter she had received this morning.
She pushed the thoughts away, along with the lump in her throat, as Arthur led her through a new set of steps. She swayed with him and smiled as he spun her through a quick four-step, followed by a spin under his arm.
It was easy, somehow, to dismiss her lingering melancholy as Arthur smiled and made a sound of good-natured scoffing. “This cannot be your first time dancing.”
“And why should you say that?” She smiled back, teasing him as she moved into the next set of steps with him.
“Come now. This cannot be your first time. My toes would know the difference; I am certain of it. I’ve never met a young lady new to the floor who could avoid stepping on a man’s feet a few times.” He raised a challenging eyebrow.
“Perhaps I am merely a quick student. I am, after all, very observant of my surroundings, as you well know.” She quirked a brow in response, mirroring his expression, daring him to continue.
There was a glint in his eye that said he did not believe her. Nonetheless, he shrugged. “If you say so, Nora dear.”
She shrugged pertly and followed him into another, more challenging set of steps. “’Tis all the answer I will give you. Prove it false or accept it as truth.”
