“Oh, honestly!” said Azalea.
A soft knock sounded on the door, interrupting them. It wasn’t the pointed knock of Mrs. Graybe or the King’s firm, hard knock. Azalea couldn’t place it. Goldenrod, nearest the door, opened it a crack and peered out.
“No one’s there,” she said. She pulled the door open wide, letting in gust of air, to show the girls.
Tiny shivers crawled up Azalea’s arms.
“I feel so odd,” said Jessamine. Her glass-spun voice resonated with all of them. Azalea stood.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said.
The unsettling feeling followed them through the magic passage and into the silver forest. They huddled together, jittery. Azalea clutched at the lamp. It shook as she led them through the silver, and shook harder when Keeper bowed them in. His eyes met Azalea’s before he backed away into the mist, and Azalea had to set the lamp down before she dropped it.
Even though they had missed the last two days, no one felt much like dancing. Azalea held Jessamine, who was still frightened, on her lap. Bramble pushed a smile or two, but remained on one of the pavilion sofas, pensive. Delphinium didn’t want to bother teaching the younger girls, and Eve wasn’t bossy enough to do it, either. The twins didn’t know enough to teach. Clover was left to teach Hollyhock, Ivy, and Kale while everyone looked on.
“Try it again,” she said in her honey-sweet voice as they gave awkward curtsys. “Mother—Mother used to say, it takes a thousand steps to make the perfect curtsy.”
Kale’s tiny eyebrows knit.
“Mother?” she said.
“Oh, come now, Kabbage,” said Bramble, a length away. “You remember Mother.”
Kale’s dark blue eyes remained blank.
“She’s dead,” Jessamine whispered.
Azalea adjusted Jessamine on her lap so she could see her tiny white face. Funny, how four-year-old Jessamine could seem so old sometimes. Did she remember Mother, who had drawn her fingers through Jessamine’s black curls and let her feel the baby kick? How could one forget something like that?
Clover pushed a strand of dark blond hair from Kale’s eyes.
“She’s just in heaven,” she said, in a honey voice.
“Just in heafen!” Kale squeaked.
Azalea suddenly felt stifled, as though she had been overlaced in a stuffy room. She nudged the girls to go. Keeper’s dark form appeared through the mist of the entrance, and instinctively, Azalea stood, upsetting Jessamine on her lap. She ran to the front of the girls, putting herself between them and Keeper, who strode in silky strides to the middle of the dance floor.
“Is everything all right?” he said in his chocolate voice. “Only you seem in poor spirits tonight.”
The girls, smiling shyly, assured him that everything was all right. Azalea said nothing. Her eyes locked with his in an intense glare. So intense the room pulsed with her heartbeat. Keeper broke it first.
“I thought to give you all a treat,” he said, nodding to the girls. A roguish strand hung in his eyes. “A waltz. None of you have seen a closed dance for nearly a year. Miss Azalea?”
He held his outstretched gloved hand to her. Azalea stared at it. It seemed to grow bigger in her vision. His words from the dark pavilion reverberated in her mind. Never to refuse me another dance again…
After a lengthy pause, Azalea took his hand.
“Oh, goodies,” said Delphinium, perking up along with the younger girls. Clover and Bramble, on the other hand, had confusion on their faces.
“But we haven’t been properly introduced,” said Clover, on her feet. “Mr. Keeper—”
“No,” said Azalea, putting a halt to it. “It’s all right. You’ve got to see the gentleman’s part sometime.”
Keeper brought Azalea into dance position in the middle of the floor. He closed his eyes and inhaled, and his long fingers traced up and down the edge of her shoulder blade, just above her corset. Azalea held as still as she possibly could, trying not to breathe.
“You have such excellent form,” he whispered. “If only you would stop shaking.”
The music began; an Ungolian waltz. Keeper guided her smoothly in a traveling circle around the dance floor, into a hesitation step, an under-arm turn, and gently brought her back into dance position. Everything he did was exaggeratedly gentle. Somehow this made it worse. They brushed past the seated girls, Azalea’s skirts sweeping over their faces. They giggled.
“Ah, you follow like an angel.” Keeper’s voice was a murmur. “You are the best I have ever danced with, and I have danced with many. I knew you would be the best. From the first time I saw you, gliding across the marble—”
Azalea misstepped. Keeper tenderly brought her into the rhythm again.
“You glide,” he murmured. “Just as your mother.”
Azalea stumbled, and this time it took several beats to ease into the flow of the music again. Azalea’s hand shook in Keeper’s flawless grip.