Leigh Chase, Leicestershire, That same evening
Everything about that evening’s hunt ball felt special, golden, enchanted. Harmonies of the angels issued from the musicians. Stars could not gleam as bright as the candles massed in the chandeliers. Dancers, floated around the ballroom with exquisite grace. Every lady was stunning, every gentleman gave new meaning to handsome. Even the ratafia punch—normally cloying in its sweetness—possessed a tart note or two making the concoction a pleasure to imbibe.
For once, Blythe smiled through the ministrations of her dresser and the criticisms of Havenaught and delighted in the ecru gown with a modest decolletage that Havenaught had allowed was “well enough, as you refuse to guard your skin carefully.”
Blythe could not find it in herself to give any weight to her companion’s deprecating comments. Nothing negative would mar the day she had fully enjoyed, nor the night to come.
Tonight, I’ll not be nervous. I shall be sure-footed and graceful as a goddess.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that at one of the local assemblies,” her brother Sol said as he stood beside the chair she’d occupied for the greater part of the ball.
She fluttered her fan to hide the blush heating her neck. “I’ve never enjoyed any party as I am enjoying this one.”
“Why is that, sister?”
She wasn’t about to tell him she had hopes that Lord Cynedroit would ask her to dance, maybe even for the supper dance. No one would remark on it, she was his host’s sister after all. “Oh, I couldn’t say. Perhaps the excitement of today’s hunt has not worn off yet.”
Sol gave her a narrow-eyed grin. “Was treating Ponsenby’s broken leg so thrilling? Or might you have drawn the attention of a certain Marquess?”
She laughed. He knew her too well, and everyone knew that Cynedroit had missed most of the hunt to lend her aid with Ponsenby.
“Ah, speaking of Cynedroit.” Her brother stood to greet the gentleman. “Well, met, my friend. Are you enjoying the festivities?”
“Very much. I hope to increase that enjoyment, but first, I need your introduction to this lovely lady.”
Blythe had recourse to her fan once more. The fantasies that filled her head all evening were about to come true.
“Certainly, Daniel. Though I gather you met informally this afternoon. Thank you by the way for lending your aid with Ponsenby.”
“I am ever at your service. Now, if you would…?” He tipped his head in her direction.
“Sister, may I make known to you my friend Lord Cynedroit, Marquess of Cynedroit. My lord, allow me to introduce Lady Blythe Leigh.”
She rose and curtsied. “Delighted to make your acquaintance my lord.” Happiness widened her smile.
He bowed. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Blythe. Would you honor me with the next dance?”
Her ears buzzed and somersaults bumfuzzled her tummy. “The honor will be mine, my lord.”
As the music began, the Marquess took her hand and led her into a set forming for a quadrille.
She suffered a moment of hesitation. The quadrille could be very complicated, depending on the steps selected and sequence chosen by the lead couple.
“You’ll be fine,” Sol whispered as she passed.
Why did he have to say that? All her attempts to hold anxiety at bay vanished and the bumfuzzle became a sharp collywobble.
Please God do not let me disgrace myself.
“Do you enjoy dancing?”
“Ah.” Beneath the muslin of her dress, her skin grew damp. “It is de rigueur, so of course I enjoy it.”
He cocked his head. But as their turn came for the first figure of the dance he simply nodded.
She forced herself to keep her gaze on him. Watching her feet had never helped before, and most likely would not now.
She followed him through the assemble, changement de jambe, echappe and glissade. His every move was perfect, both precise and fluid. Watching him was too easy. By comparison, Signore Borgia was a rank amateur.
Concentrate.
With the next successful change of foot, she nearly sighed. However, it was too soon to relax, so she held her breath. Just the three petit jete’s and she could breathe.
Her vision blurred. She released her grip on her dress—the hem should have been raised slightly to allow free movement of her feet—and swiped at her eyes.
“Never touch your face Signorina.”
Her skirts now trailed on the floor. Of course, she stepped on the cloth and pitched forward straight into the Marquess’ arms.
Fortunately, his strength was sufficient to keep her upright.
However, the damage had been done. Around them dancers halted in mid-step and stared. The musicians ceased playing with a discordant squeal of strings and a plethora of other embarrassing sounds.
Heat flooded Blythe’s face.
I must make a ripe apple look pale.
“Are you well, Lady Blythe?”
She stared up into his face and could do nothing but nod.
He helped her to stand, keeping his arm around her shoulders until she regained her balance.
She felt every stare. Heard every snicker.
On the farthest side of the room her oldest brother started in her direction. Sol too, who was closer, hurried toward her. A frowning Havenaught trailed in his wake.
“I…I’m sorry. Excuse me.” Skirts clutched in one hand, she fled. She sped not to her room. No Havenaught would look for her there. In the dark, she dashed for the stables and the kennels behind. The hounds scented her before they saw her and set up a happy cry in expectation of treats.
Not tonight. She left the kennels behind, heading to the one place she was certain no one would find her. Arriving at the foaling barn, she climbed to the loft and found the nest she’d made for herself and her favorite cats. With complete disregard for the fine muslin she wore, she sank down behind the shelter of a mound of hay and wept. Loudly at first gradually quieting until the tears dried and her breath came in silent hiccups.
She shouldn’t have held her breath. The Signore had chastised her countless times for doing so.
Mama, the large brindled cat who ruled the loft along with her kittens approached and rubbed against Blythe. She reclined against the loft wall, cuddling the cat to her chest with one arm and stroking each of the five kittens by turn.
Soon she was surrounded by purring warmth and could almost believe that everything would be fine. Her stumble would be forgotten in no time. She’d make her come out as required, but she vowed, she would never, never, never dance again.
He bribed a housemaid and sent a note to Lady Blythe the very next morning. He lingered over breakfast hoping to catch her when she came down. He attended all the events his host scheduled. Not to do so would cause talk and undoubtedly greater embarrassment for the lady. Whenever possible, he lurked in the places he thought most likely to be where she would show herself.
On the last day of the house party, Daniel sought out his friend Sol and challenged him to a game of billiards.
Once sequestered in the duke’s game room, Sol broached the subject that occupied Daniel’s mind.
“I gather that you really aren’t interested in a game,” he hitched his trousers up and sat on a corner of the billiard table one foot on the ground, one swinging in the air.
“You know me too well, Sol. I feel responsible and wish to make all right with Lady Blythe.”
“Take it from me, there is nothing to be made right. You are not at all responsible. She has been accident prone all her life. The only time she’s sure footed and graceful is on the back of a horse or surrounded by dogs and cats.”
“Does she have a problem with her eyesight?” Daniel sank heavily into an armchair opposite his friend.
Sol shook his head. Our brother Lovis has had her examined by every specialist known to have a theory on the subject of awkward movement. None of them could find a cause.”
“Has she always been like this?”
“For nearly as long as I can remember.” He rubbed his chin. “I have some vague memories of her running and playing tag with Mars and Mercury shortly before our parents passed away, but it isn’t very clear. She could very well have fallen or bumped into something, and I’ve forgotten that part.”
“She’ll be miserable when she’s presented next spring.” He stared at the floor as if the parqueterie could provide answers.
“Barring some miracle, I expect so.”
“Might it not be better to not present her?”
Sol’s foot stopped swinging, and he stood. “That would leave the entire ton believing we were too embarrassed to give her the come out she deserves.”
Daniel sat forward his hands clasped loosely between his knees. “If you believe the Teatime Tattler and its ilk, Lady Blythe is already a by word for embarrassment.”
His friend’s hands fisted. “Well, we don’t believe such nonsense, and neither should you.”
“I don’t, Sol. I assure you.” Daniel stood, placing a hand on Sol’s arm. ‘Especially since I’ve met her. She’s quite delightful when she’s not so anxious she can’t think. Responsible or not, I wish I could make it up to her. But she won’t see me.”
“I’ll convey your sentiments when she finally decides to show herself, but that could be days from now. She’s rather good at hiding when she doesn’t want to be found.”
Daniel sighed. “Then I suppose I’d best be on my way. Thank you for inviting me, my friend. Thank your brother for his hospitality, will you?”
“Of course. I’ll see you in London next spring.”
“In the spring.” Daniel nodded and headed for his chambers to prepare for his return to town. He wondered as he packed if he would ever encounter Lady Blythe Leigh again? If he did, would she remember him? Recall the pleasant afternoon they’d shared before that debacle of a dance?