He did not dare to. He dragged his eyes away from her and turned to smile at Belle. ‘Is it to your liking?’ He waited, breath held, for her answer.
After what seemed like weeks of trying and failing to catch Arabella Summoner, now that he had her, he approached her warily. It was as if she was an untamed cat and he expected to be scratched. It was nonsense. There was not a tamer creature in the room than the woman he was about to marry.
But cats sometimes scratched because of fear. That was what he sensed from her now. At his words, her beautiful head dipped and, though her eyes darted nervously about the room, her smile was as bright as ever. But it was ruined now that he knew how little there was behind the artifice. ‘The ball,’ he prompted. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, automatically.
‘We will be expected to dance the first waltz,’ he said, offering her his arm.
Her head tipped to the side.
‘You have not waltzed?’ Of course she hadn’t. She was young and it was still too improper for the likes of Almack’s. He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I will teach you. It is a very simple dance.’
‘I like to dance,’ she said. He had begun to think it was as much a ruse to hide a lack of conversation as a statement of truth. But at least she was not as blunt as she had been that afternoon. Perhaps she was growing accustomed to him.
‘So your sister says.’
Belle gave him another worried look. ‘She says I must obey you in all things.’
‘That is the way marriages usually work,’ he said, surprised that he would have to explain it. ‘If Amy marries, she will obey her husband, just as you should.’
‘She will not like that,’ Belle said. ‘Amy likes to give orders, but she does not take them well.’
He could not help himself. He laughed. ‘You are wiser than they give you credit for, Arabella.’
‘Thank you,’ she said automatically.
‘And you must try not to worry too much about our future together.’ He would do all the worrying for both of them, just as Amy had done. ‘For now, all I require of you is a dance.’ He took her hand to lead her to the centre of the room. ‘Here. Let me show you how to waltz.’ He lifted her hand in his and put his other hand on her waist.
She stared down at it as if trying to decide whether this was an actual dance, or a trick to make her behave improperly.
‘Now you put your hand on my shoulder.’
Her touch was tentative as she rested it there, but at least they were positioned correctly.
‘Watch my feet. Step, step, step. Step, two, three. Do as I do. But with the other foot. My right, your left.’
They managed a few tentative steps in harmony with each other and he gave her another smile. ‘Very good.’
She smiled back at him with a relieved sigh, then tried to detach her hand from his.
He shook his head. ‘Now we will dance around the floor in a circle.’ He nodded to the musicians, and they struck up the first notes of the Sussex Waltz. When she did not immediately follow his lead, he set them off with a rocking first step that would have been more appropriate in a polonaise than a waltz.
She succumbed to the momentum of it, only to falter again as he made the first part of a turn. Though he had thought it instinctive, apparently the process was more confusing than he’d assumed. Or perhaps he was not a very good teacher. She was pressing back against his hand instead of yielding to its direction and they faltered on another step before finding the rhythm again.
They managed quite well for a few measures and he was beginning to hope that the worst was over. But then, other couples came to the dance floor to join them. Her head tipped again, a posture he was beginning to recognise as confusion, rather than flirtation.
It should not have surprised him that the new pattern was baffling to her. When one was accustomed to dancing in matched lines and staying with the set, a jumble of bodies making lopsided circles within circles must seem like nonsense.
She was fighting against his lead again, trying to see what was happening around her rather than letting him do the watching. The ribs beneath his hand felt as immovable as corset bones, though he was sure under her delicate gown there could be but the most cursory of stays.
It was all the more annoying to see Templeton pass them in a graceful spiral with Amy in his arms. They danced so naturally they might have been created as partners like Meissen figurines come to life. The sight should not have annoyed him. They were nothing more than close friends enjoying the hospitality of his home. Their smiles were a sign of his success. And success was what mattered after all. It was why he was going to marry a woman he did not love who did not want to follow his simplest instructions.
You must be patient with her.