Page 56 of Oddity of the Ton
“Likewise, Miss Howard. I believe your father, Sir Leonard, conducts business with my husband—Mr. Ross Trelawney?”
“Oh, the wine merchant!” Eleanor said. “Papa speaks very highly of him, but I’ve never met him. Is he here tonight?”
“Alas, my husband is working tonight, of all things.”
“So, poor Mrs. Trelawney must make do withme,” Mr. Drayton added.
“If you’re as accomplished a dance partner as you are a dinner companion, then Mrs. Trelawney is sure to elicit the envy of every woman in the room,” Eleanor said.
“Ha!” Westbury said. “A pretty speech, Miss Howard. But I fear you’ve wounded poor Whitcombe. You’re supposed to extol the virtues ofyourdance partner—not another’s.”
Oh, heavens, I’ve done it again!Why could she never think of the right thing to say?
“F-forgive me,” Eleanor stammered. “I meant no offense.”
“None was taken,” Whitcombe said. “Westbury—don’t be a tease. A man incapable of weathering the truth is no man at all.But I believe that, of all those dancing here tonight, we must pity Mr. Moss the most.”
Eleanor turned and caught sight of Mr. Moss leading Lady Arabella Ponsford onto the dance floor.
Mrs. Trelawney let out a giggle, then suppressed it. “Whitcombe, for shame!” she cried. “Lady Arabella’s an accomplished dancer.”
“But perhaps less desirable with feet covered in horse dung,” Westbury said. “I swear she’s surrounded by a cloud of flies. But Moss always reeks of cologne, so is unlikely to notice the stench.”
“Henry!” Westbury’s wife admonished him. “If you continue, I’ll insistyoupartner Lady Arabella for the next two dances as penance.”
“Then I shall desist, to elude such a punishment.” Westbury winked at Eleanor. “Ah!” he cried, as the musicians struck up a melody. “I’ve been saved by the music.”
He led his wife toward the center of the dance floor, followed by his son and Mrs. Trelawney. Whitcombe steered Eleanor in their wake.
“I trust you’ll not find the dancing unduly objectionable, Miss Howard,” he said. “I’ve ensured we’re among friends forthisdance, at least.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Westburys are good company,” he said, “and Mrs. Trelawney has the sweetest disposition. If I am to place you in that most hazardous of environments—the Society dance floor—then I must ensure you’re surrounded by allies, rather than hostile forces.”
“Hostile forces such as Mr. Moss and Lady Arabella?”
“Exactly!” he said. “Now, if you’re unfamiliar with the steps, you’ll pick them up soon enough. The pattern repeats itself, and you’re in safe hands with me.”
*
True to hisword, Eleanor’s partner steered her through the dance, issuing gentle instructions and soft praise throughout. Even when her ungainly body did not move as her mind intended, he guided her through the steps with his hands. And when the dance necessitated a change of partners, his replacements—Westbury, and then Westbury’s son—displayed equal gallantry. Eleanor was almost ready to be persuaded to declare that shelikeddancing.
When the dance concluded, Whitcombe steered her toward the edge of the room.
“Would you take a seat while I fetch you a drink?” he asked.
Eleanor glanced at the empty seats—each one surrounded by chattering misses and their enthusiastic mamas—and shuddered.
“Or perhaps you’d prefer to accompany me on my quest for refreshment?” he suggested. “If we’re on foot, we can avoid the necessity of being engaged in conversation with others by simply walking away.”
“I live in dread of finding somewhere quiet to sit, then being joined by someone who wishes to engage in conversation,” she said. “I always feel obliged to say something back when people talk at me. I’d rather they left me alone, but I fear I’d offend them if I said as much.”
“What would you do if Lady Arabella sat beside you?” he asked, mischief in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t knowwhatto say.”
“Miss Howard, have you learned nothing from our tutorial in the park?”
