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She had tried to curb her tongue. She’d prattle inane things about the theater or fashion or simply nodded and smiled at whatever the gentlemen said. Yet the more the would-be suitors enjoyed her company, the more disgust she felt with herself for pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
“Must we dance?” she asked the duke.
“You must. Trust me,” Rotherby said with a smug smile, “with you and Holloway under my tutelage, Fredericks shall see you as much more than a colleague.”
“We’ll need music,” Sebastian said, glancing at the pianoforte.
The duke raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Waiting downstairs in your butler’s study is a music student, a young man by the name of Mr. Scarpelli, to play piano for us.”
“You’re very thorough.” Grace tugged on the bellpull, and when a footman appeared, she requested he fetch Mr. Scarpelli. “Thinking of everything.”
“Madam,” Rotherby intoned, “it is a burden to be so admirable.”
“Conceit has always been in abundance for Rotherby,” Sebastian said, making Grace chuckle.
“Because I’ve earned it.” But the duke spoiled his high-handedness by grinning boyishly.
A moment later, Mr. Scarpelli came into the ballroom. From his wild hair to his hastily tied neckcloth to the slightly frayed shirt cuffs peeking out from his sleeves, he was every inch a music student. He bowed before taking his seat at the pianoforte.
“Where would you like me to begin, Your Grace?” he asked.
“I assume you have a battle plan,” Sebastian said. “You always do.”
“We shan’t bother with country dances.” Rotherby waved the notion away. “Our concern is the waltz. That is where you and Grace will attract the most notice.”
Oh, gracious. Country dances only involved the occasional joining of hands, and the maintenance of distance between partners.
And while she’d learned how to waltz, she’d never actually done it with anyone other than her dancing master, whose touch had been deliberately and rightfully professional, entirely impersonal.
It would be the same with Sebastian. Wouldn’t it? His hand holding hers, his other hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder . . . there was nothing to fear. Merely a simple transaction between friends. Something to be done for an intended purpose.
Even so . . . contemplating a waltz with Sebastian felt as though moths were fluttering in her belly.
Mr. Scarpelli shook out his hands before setting them on the pianoforte keys. At the duke’s nod, the musician began to play. Grace attempted to distract herself by tapping her feet in time with the air. One two three, one two three.
Sebastian breathed in deeply, then moved to approach her. But Rotherby stepped forward and placed his hand on Sebastian’s chest.
“I’ll demonstrate first,” the duke said.
“But I already know how to do this,” Sebastian protested.
“You know the steps, but not the art.” Rotherby bowed to Grace. “Would you do me the honor?”
She raised her brows in surprise. A waltz with a duke? How unexpected. And likely the dream of many young women. Many other young women.
Rotherby came toward her and held out his hand. She took it, and he led her to the center of the ballroom.
They bowed and curtsied before taking their positions. The duke held her in the proper stance. They looked into each other’s eyes. They really were quite nice eyes. Deep and richly hued like coffee. Just like yesterday, he regarded her as though he found her captivating.
Yet there was no leap of excitement at his touch, no thrill of contact. He was merely a person she knew, with her entirely unmoved by his closeness.
It made no sense. He was handsome, finely built, and exuded charm. But nothing within her came alive to have him escort her to the center of the ballroom. She did sense a fizz of excitement to dance again, after years of avoiding it.
She and the duke waltzed. She slipped easily into the steps, her body recalling the tilt and sway, and while she leaned into the spinning and freeing sensation, a whisper of disappointment stole through her. The movements themselves were fine, but dancing with Rotherby was like practicing with her dancing master. It wasn’t particularly special or wonderful, only mildly interesting to observe.
