“Oh, I’m quite alone!” she said gaily, and putting a hand on the door, pushed it open, hardly noticing that she had inadvertently pushed Mr. Dudley back, too, as she stepped inside the dark entrance. “You should really see about putting some sconces here,” she offered helpfully. “It’s dreadfully dark, don’t you think?”
The old man blinked up at her as she pulled her gloves from her hands, finger by finger. “I suppose he’s in the usual spot, pouty and cross because I’m calling? He shouldn’t fret in the least, for I think our lessons will come to a desirable end shortly.” She turned a beaming smile to Dudley and held out her gloves.
“Aye,” Dudley said, and stuck out his hand, grimacing slightly, fingers curled uncomfortably, to receive them.
Anna hesitantly deposited the gloves, then untied the ribbon of her bonnet as she eyed the butler. “Are you quite all right, Mr. Dudley?”
“Aye. Bit o’ gout, ’tis all.”
“Oh dear. My grandmother suffered terribly from it. She often made a remedy for her gout from the flowers of an autumn crocus plant. Shall I bring you a tincture?”
Dudley grimaced in pain again. “I’d no’ ask for such favor, I swear I wouldna, miss, but we’ve precious few medicinals, and I do seem to be suffering unusually so.”
With a sympathetic smile, Anna carefully patted his arm. “We can’t have that, sir. Consider it done,” she said with an adamant nod before removing her bonnet and placing it on a small console. “I’ll bring it round on the morrow.”
“Thank ye kindly, Miss Addison,” he said, still grimacing as he laid the gloves next to her bonnet.
“Shall I go on?” she asked, motioning to the rest of the house. “I know the way. No need for you to suffer the walk,” she said, and without waiting for an answer, carried on, humming a little tune.
“Something smells delicious!” she called over her shoulder to Dudley, and lifting her skirts, she ran lightly up the servants’ stairs to the first floor, where her lessons were held. As she strolled down the much brighter corridor, she passed an open door, and noticed Grif’s valet standing at the window that overlooked the street. “Good day, Mr. MacAlister!” she called.
The man whipped around, held up a finger to his lips, and motioned for her to come inside.
Anna was instantly at his side. He pointed to the street. Anna peeked out through the crack between the sheer drapery liners. She could see Grif on the sidewalk below, speaking with Lady Worthall, whose abominable little dog kept hopping up and nipping at his trousers.
“Aye, that’s trouble,” he said with a frown, and pulled the drapes shut. He turned to look at her; his gaze boldly wandered the length of her. “Aye, he’s turned ye out quite well, has he no’?”
His perusal made her feel self-conscious, and Anna nervously put her hand to the nape of her neck.
“I intended no offense, Miss Addison,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “It was meant as a compliment of the highest order, it was.”
Anna looked at him again, noticed for the first time that he was wearing only boots, trousers, and a shirt with a plain neckcloth. His waistcoat and coat were God knew where, but the effect was rather dashing.
He, however, was looking at her feet. “Has he told ye about the ankle, then?”
Unthinkingly, Anna glanced down at her feet, encased in dark burgundy high-heeled shoes that matched the burgundy of her day gown. “The ankle?”
“Aye. A gentleman enjoys the turn of a lass’s ankle. See what I mean,” he said, and walked to the mantel, struck a peculiar, feminine pose, and thrust out one leg to the side, so if he had been wearing a gown, she might have seen his ankle.
Anna gaped at him standing there with his leg so artfully turned out. She could not help herself—she burst into laughter.
Mr. MacAlister’s grin broadened charmingly, and he straightened up. “If he’s no’ told ye of the ankle, then I suppose he’s no’ gotten round to the walk, aye?”
“No sir, he has not.”
“Then allow me.”
Before Anna knew it, she was learning to walk provocatively, using the natural swing of her hips to propel her.
And while she practiced walking, Hugh, as he insisted she call him, regaled her with tales of his own unrequited love for one Miss Keara Brody. He had an infectious, engaging way of telling his tale that had her laughing so much that he felt compelled to put his arm around her waist and guide her through their walking lesson.
They moved slowly and with a bit of flounce. “There ye are, lass. Just a wee bit more in the hip,” he said. They went again and gave it a bit more in the hip.
Hugh clucked his tongue. “No, no, no’ like that— ’tis too obvious. Watch me,” he said confidently, and proceeded to strut across the carpet, turn at the corner just as Anna had done, and come to a halt at the mantel, where he thrust one hip to the side and turned out his ankle perfectly. Were he not wearing a boot, that is. “Come on, then, we’ll try it again, aye?” he asked, gesturing to Anna.
She slipped beneath his arm, put her arm around his waist.