Someone to Love (Westcott #1)

Tonight Miss Edwards had looked even more fetching than usual. But sometimes one was just not in the mood for a ball or even for an acclaimed beauty. He stood on the street taking snuff and considering his options before turning homeward in all his evening finery. It was not even midnight.

He wandered along to Westcott House the following afternoon to find a dancing lesson in progress in the music room. A severe-looking young woman with a very straight back and a sharp red nose upon which were perched wire-framed spectacles sat at the pianoforte, while a tall, thin man, clearly her father and presumably the dancing master, stood before it. The dowager countess was seated to one side of the room, the inevitable Lady Matilda beside her. Mrs. Westcott, Cousin Althea, stood near them, smiling with pleasure at the scene before her. Riverdale was standing in the middle of the floor in waltz position with Cousin Elizabeth.

And beside the pianoforte stood Anna, her hair styled a little more severely than it had been after it was cut, with not one strand out of place, and wearing a white muslin day dress as plain as any dress could be that had clearly been expertly styled and made of expensive fabric. Her hands, her neck, and her face were the only parts of her body that were visible. The dress had a high round neckline and long, fitted sleeves. The skirt fell in soft folds from a high waistline to her ankles. Not for her, obviously, the newest fashion of showing the ankles. She was wearing stays, which emphasized her slimness and gave her a bit of a bosom, though not much of one in the eyes of a connoisseur. On her feet she wore white dancing slippers, which looked at least two sizes smaller than her black shoes and a ton lighter.

Avery looked her over through his quizzing glass while everyone turned his way. He lowered the glass and made his bow.

“Do carry on,” he said, gesturing to the dancing master with the hand that held the glass.

“Alexander and Elizabeth are demonstrating the correct positioning for the waltz,” Lady Matilda explained to Avery rather unnecessarily. “I still maintain that it is an improper dance, especially for an unmarried lady or for a lady not dancing with her husband or brother, but my protests always fall upon deaf ears. It has become fashionable, and those of us who speak up for propriety are called old-fashioned.”

“I would have danced every single set of waltzes at every single ball I attended if someone had only invented the dance when I was still a girl,” the dowager said. “It is impossibly romantic.”

“Oh, it is, Eugenia,” Cousin Althea agreed, “and Alex and Lizzie dance it so well. Mr. Robertson is fortunate to have them to demonstrate for Anastasia.”

Avery stayed where he was, just inside the door, while the dancing master pointed out to Anna just exactly where and how Elizabeth’s hands were positioned and the exact angle of her spine and head and the expression upon her face—which Elizabeth immediately ruined by grinning at Anna and waggling her eyebrows. The dancing master bowed to Anna and invited her to stand with him as though they were about to waltz. She allowed her right hand to be taken in his left, rested the fingertips of the other hand gingerly upon his shoulder, and stood as far from him as the length of her arms would allow, her spine arched outward rather than in, a look of grim determination upon her face.

“A little more attention needs to be paid toward your posture, my lady,” Robertson said, and she shot upward to stand ramrod straight. “And rest your palm upon my shoulder and spread your fingers elegantly just as Lady Overfield has hers. Allow your features to relax almost but not quite into a smile.”

She grimaced and clutched his shoulder, and Avery saw what his stepmother meant. At this rate she might be ready to attend her first ball five years from now, by which time she would be so firmly upon the shelf that she would be gathering dust there. Had she been taught the steps yet? Who the devil was this dancing master?

He sighed and wandered out onto the open floor. “Allow me,” he said, waving the man back and taking his place. He took Anna’s left hand in his right. It was cold and stiff, as he had rather expected. He stroked the fingernail of his thumb over her palm before placing the hand on his shoulder just where it needed to be. He drew his thumb along the length of her fingers before withdrawing his hand and spreading it behind her waist and taking her other hand in his. She looked into his eyes in clear dismay as he took a step closer to her, and he held her gaze while, without moving his hand in any way that would be visible to the onlookers, he coaxed her to arch inward slightly from the waist.

“If Robertson has his tape measure with him,” he said without looking away from her, “he may inform you if you have allowed the requisite number of inches of space between us. One must not err by even half an inch if one does not wish to cause the banning of the waltz from every ballroom in the realm for all eternity. You are permitted to smile provided you do not bounce up and down with hilarity.”

Her lips twitched for a moment with what might have been amusement.

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