Page 37 of His Haunted Duchess
“Well enough,” Esther answered promptly. “Though this one—” she pointed at Philip, “made off into the garden with my pupil.”
Frederic raised his eyebrows. Caroline winced at Esther’s phrasing. Philip turned a pallid sort of green that reminded Caroline very much of a lily pad.
“It was an accident,” Philip said. He looked at Caroline. “I mean a pleasant accident, but you see?—”
Caroline carefully put a sandwich onto her plate to keep her hand from shaking.
“He wanted to show me the most beautiful spot in Highcastle,” she said. “It took a while to walk, but—the roses were lovely.”
Frederic took a hearty bite out of his sandwich.
“Off chasing flowers again, Philip? What about your lessons, much less Lady Caroline’s? It’s no excuse that she needs them far less than you do.”
Esther hemmed into her tea.
“The next lesson concerns you, Frederic. I was hoping you’d be Lady Caroline’s dance partner. There will be dancing at the wedding, you know, and I’d like for the both of you to be prepared.”
Caroline’s heart fluttered as it always did when someone mentioned the wedding. It was so easy to forget—ironically—what all of the practice and preparations were for. Frederic frowned.
“I don’t need practice. I’ve been dancing all my life. Have you seen something amiss?”
“Of course not, dear,” Esther said, taking a small bite of sandwich. “But you’ve never—to my knowledge—danced with Lady Caroline, who…”
She cleared her throat. Caroline felt herself blushing. Frederic looked at her. She met—or tried to meet—his eyes levelly. This was one area where she could have no pride.
“I would be grateful if you would help me practice, Your Grace,” she said. “I—I—may not have your ease or familiarity yet with dancing.”
Frederic shifted in his seat. Caroline could see as clearly as the painting on the mantelpiece that he was disinclined to dance. Her blush deepened, accompanied by a familiar pang in her chest. It certainly wasn’t the first time she had been slighted by a partner. She took another sip of hot Negus. Frederic straightened his waistcoat.
“If the Lady Caroline requests?—”
“Excellent!” Lady Esther stood and made her way to the piano seat. “We’ll work our way through a quadrille, then.”
“May I hold your watch, Frederic?” Philip asked. “I’ll use it to time the steps.”
Frederic handed Philip the watch—a gold one that glinted in the fading light—and moved to the middle of the room. Caroline moved to stand opposite him. She didn’t know where to look. A blush settled on her shoulders like a pink shawl. This was the closest she’d been to Frederic—to the duke—since the proposal.
Esther settled herself on the bench and trilled a few notes on the piano.
“Ready, then? Begin!”
Caroline curtsied and tried not to wobble. She could count on her fingers how many times she had stood up with a gentleman to dance. Practicing at home with Winifred and Ajax hadn’t been quite the same. Frederic put out his hand.
She took it. Even through her glove, his touch was so warm, so steady, like a home fire in a storm. His eyes, perhaps, hadn’t heard yet about his fingers’ welcoming warmth. They remained cold and distant, fixed on a point above her shoulder.
Even so, she felt steadier herself, more sure on her feet—even, ironically—than when she had been seated at tea.
Caroline recollected herself. This was a duty to perform—a necessary task to endure. She chasséd through the steps, trying not to watch her toes.
“Prettily done,” Esther called over the music. “A little less stiff, both of you.”
Caroline raised her chin. Her eyes met Frederic’s just as she stepped to walk past him. She stumbled. Her tired limbs missed their cue entirely, sending her careening towards the floor.
Frederic’s arms circled her waist. She lurched to a stop and looked up. For the second time, Frederic’s eyes met hers. This time, they were deep, dark green wells of concern and—attraction? Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked so open, like an unlatched gate to the garden in spring.
Philip laughed.
“Well, that’s definitely less stiff at least.”
