A Dance of Manners

by Cynthia Breeding, Kristi Ahlers, Erin E. M. Hatton

  He caught her gaze and winked.

  She feared she would drop her spoon. She looked away quickly. How dare he! Had anyone seen that? She was too afraid to meet their gazes. Very quietly, she ate her soup. Confused and hurt, she concentrated on breathing and finished her first course. Grey was here by choice. He was also here with the approval of her father. Had he stated his intentions and spoken with Papa? Was that why her mother sat beaming? Well, she would have none of it! She would not spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary, not even a second.

  The pounding in Kitty's head drowned out the surrounding conversation. Warm, she drank some of the cool water from the glass in front of her. The servants lifted away her plate and served another course of beef and vegetables, but she hardly noticed. The glow of the amber candlelight against the sparkle from the crystal on the table mesmerized her as she tried to keep her mind busy. Dinner will be over soon and I will leave. I will leave.

  It took all the strength she possessed to keep a smile on her face, act as if she were listening, and move the food around her plate. The meat felt dry in her throat as she tried to swallow. Grey chatted amiably beside her and answered questions, yet she could make no sense of it. Finally, she could take no more.

  “Please excuse me.” She stood and pushed her chair back. “I don't mean to be impolite, but I would like to get a breath of air outside.”

  “Kitty dear, are you all right?” asked the Duchess.

  “Yes, Mama. I will not be long ... it is just a hot night. I will return presently,” she lied, wanting desperately to get away. As she exited, she thought she heard the words, “perhaps this has all been too much for her.”

  She raced outside to the back terrace. Still wet from the earlier rain shower, the damp cement lent coolness to the otherwise warm evening. Was it she that was warm? Or the air? It was too wet to sit, so she leaned against the cool brick of the house and looked up at the young leaves on the tree above her. How could she ever return to Kensington Palace?

  Last night on the horse, she had leaned back into Grey's warm body. She moaned in misery and put her hands in her face, embarrassed beyond measure. What a thoroughly stupid girl she was!

  She would plead sickness and go to her room. No one would suspect she wasn't still fatigued. After all, Mama had given her permission just this very hour to come downstairs. Obviously she wasn't recovered. No one would know otherwise.

  She heard footsteps and turned around to see Margaret approaching, with Grey behind. Her heart beat faster when she saw him. She hated him. How could he do this to her? Should she tell Margaret the truth? Could she ever tell anyone? No, her actions simply couldn't be justified.

  “Kitty dear, let me help you upstairs. Mama thinks you have overtired yourself,” Margaret said softly, touching her shoulder.

  “Perhaps I have.” Kitty glared at him. “But first I would like to have a word with Grey. Alone.”

  Margaret's eyes grew wide at the words, and she stepped back. Margaret knew better than to leave them. It was not acceptable for Kitty and Grey to be unchaperoned.

  “Very well. I'll be close by.” She took a few steps away to give them some privacy.

  Grey stood tall in front of Kitty in his dark brown, fine waistcoat. She looked up at him. “How could you!” she whispered.

  “I have tired and upset you. I can see that,” he offered.

  “How could you lie to me about who you were?”

  Grey glanced back at Margaret as if to make sure she was far enough away so she would not overhear him. “I never lied to you.”

  “You most certainly did! You told me you were a coachman or led me to believe you were.”

  “Indeed? Is that what you think? I never told you I was a coachman.”

  “You led me to believe that and you have been dishonorable, sir.” Kitty turned on her heel, but then faced him again. “You should have made your identity known to me immediately.”

  “Did you tell me who you were the first time we met in the storm? You did not say you were the princess's art teacher or the Duke of English's daughter, for that matter,” he said.

  “What business is it of yours, anyway?”

  “Exactly my point.”

  Enraged, Kitty's hands clenched into fists. “I should tell you now so there is no question about it. There is a young man I know who has already made his interest known to my family, and my mind is made up about my future. I have no interest in you whatsoever, sir.”

  Was it her imagination or did his blue-lavender eyes well with tears? She took in the details of his face at that moment. Time froze. The color of his eyes appeared more vibrant than before, yet his face was void of emotion. No sign of tears. She'd imagined them.

  “Thank you for advising me of such.” He bowed. “I will have a brandy with your father and brother to avoid being rude, after which I shall take my leave. And I certainly hope you are feeling better.”

  Kitty watched his purposeful stride as he entered the house. She burst into quiet tears. Miserable, she wondered if they had been alone—without Margaret observing her every move—if she would have called him back.

  Now he was gone.

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  * * *

  Chapter Six

  Kitty stayed in her room again the next day. Her eyes were swollen from crying. She was hot and miserable. Even if she had wanted to go to the Devonshire Ball, she probably would be unable to. She'd been taken aback with Grey's revelation, hadn't slept well, and it had been another dreadful night. The look of shock in Grey's eyes when she told him she wasn't interested haunted her, and each time she re-lived the moment, she experienced a sense of painful ambivalence. Although she'd hurt him, she'd had no choice. Still, the whole affair left her weak and despondent.

  She was exhausted from thinking about it over and over. She lay in bed with only a sheet to cover her. Already humid outside, her skin felt sticky. Once she felt stronger, she'd move to the chair by the window to catch the occasional breeze. Sounds of activity in the house typical before a ball—the bustle of maids and menservants going back and forth in preparation of the longer than usual toilettes and the early supper that would be served—only added to her depression.

  A knock sounded at her door, and Anne, her maid came in. “My lady, Her Grace has asked me to get some of your gowns ready and to lay out your toilette for later.”

  Confused, Kitty sat up, clutching the sheet over her nightgown. “My mother asked you to do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there must be some mistake.” Kitty knew better than to give the maid conflicting instructions, however. “Very well, then.”

  Maybe Mama had meant for Margaret's gown to be prepared. Sighing, Kitty lay back and watched the maid pull out two silk gowns, one in pale pink and one in cream. Anne hung them high on an armoire peg to air out. She set out a comb, perfume, and several sets of jewels on the dressing table. Finished with laying out the bath articles, the maid gave a quick curtsy and left the room.

  Wearily, Kitty listened to the footsteps in the hall outside. Normally, these were the most exciting of days. Although she couldn't join in the festivities, there was always the future dinner at Nebry to think about. She couldn't go to the Devonshire Ball now, but it was only one night in her life. She couldn't risk an encounter with Grey.

  An hour later, her mother came to see her. Smiling, she came over and sat on the side of the bed.

  “Hello, Mama. Are you prepared for tonight?”

  “Yes, darling. I am going to rest this afternoon and then start my toilette about five. Are you wondering why I asked Anne to lay out some ball gowns?”

  “I am not going, Mama,” Kitty answered quietly.

  “I was hoping you might change your mind.”

  “I do not see how. I am really not feeling myself.”

  The duchess put a warm, jeweled hand on Kitty's. “Are you very angry at him?”

  She met her mother's expectant gaze.
“I am,” she confessed.

  The duchess sighed and then rubbed Kitty's arm. “I cannot say you should not be. I suspect he did something to hurt you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you cannot forgive him?”

  “No.”

  Looking tentative, the duchess pushed on, “You have no forgiveness in your heart?”

  Kitty remembered his arrogance. No, she could not forgive him. “Not this time.”

  “If you do change your mind, simply dress and let me know. Will you at least think about it?”

  “I will think about it.”

  “Do you feel well enough to come downstairs for a moment?”

  Kitty sighed. “Please, Mama, I beg you. My heart cannot take any other surprises.”

  “It is not him downstairs waiting, if that is what you mean. But there is something you should see. Just put on your wrapper. It will only take a moment.”

  Kitty did as asked and followed her mother downstairs and down the hall to the library. She was greeted by a magnitude of fragrances and colors. Dozens of flower bouquets of every kind covered the surfaces of side tables, chairs, and even the floor. There were vibrant hues of lavenders, blues, whites and yellows.

  She could only stare.

  “I believe you know who these are from,” said the duchess.

  “I think so.”

  “Might you change your mind and come to the ball?”

  “I ... I cannot.” Kitty turned to leave the room.

  “Kitty, dear, this is quite unlike you.”

  “Sorry, Mama. I just cannot go.” Kitty fled the room, unable to bear the turmoil in her heart.

  * * * *

  That night, Kitty sat by her window and listened to the carriage being brought round to the front of the townhouse. There was a flurry of excitement on the street in general, as many were going to the ball. Before leaving, her mother came into her room to say goodbye. She was a vision of beauty in a mint green gown. Even though it was hot, her mother looked cool and radiant.

  “You look lovely,” she told her mother.

  “My dear, are you quite sure you have not changed your mind? It will not take you long to get ready if you try.”

  Kitty formed her words carefully. “I have not changed my mind.”

  “Are you sure? We could arrive a little late...”

  Changing the subject, Kitty said, “Tell Margaret to have a wonderful time. How does her new blue gown look?”

  “It looks just right.” The duchess smiled. “Have a quiet night then. Please rest.”

  “I will.”

  Once the door closed, warm tears flowed. Again, she was crying. She gave in to the tears and sobbed. After a time, she dipped a cloth into the water basin on her dresser and dabbed at her eyes, trying to regain her composure. The voices outside—her father, her brother, Margaret—sounded so gay.

  Water dripped from the cloth to the bodice of her dress. She hastily wiped it off. It didn't matter. It was just an everyday dress of pale pink, and she was all alone now. She sighed, her breathing ragged and uneven.

  A pot of tea would calm her. There were new boxes of books in the library that Papa hadn't unpacked. For the past few days, she had intended to look at them. Since it was such a hot night, she'd sit in the library and open the large doors to let in the night air.

  On second thought, a pot of tea might be too hot for tonight. Perhaps it would be better to ask for something cool. She wiped her face one last time and went downstairs.

  The silence was notable. Everyone had gone. She had made her decision about the ball and had to live with it. And she would. The butler came round the corner.

  “Good evening, my lady. I thought you were upstairs. May I get something for you?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bowles. I am going to sit in the library and read awhile. Could you bring me some lemonade, perhaps?”

  “Certainly. I shall have it brought to you straightaway.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  On a sigh, she picked up the hem of her dress and headed to the library. The instant she entered the room, she saw them again ... the flowers. She had forgotten. There were so many! She walked to one of the tables and looked at some of the colorful bouquets. Picking up some violets, she breathed in their light scent. Grey had certainly spent a lot of money. Alas, it wasn't money well spent.

  Dismissing the flowers, she sat on the floor and turned her attention to the books. Papa had ordered some new collections, and she was eager to look through them. A good book was just what she needed to forget the past few days. It would be a relief to forget everything, and excitedly she pulled one of the boxes in front of her, opening it. Some books were bound in brown leather, some in black. She picked up a few. Then others. There were volumes of poetry, history and novels. Happily, she looked through them one by one, stacking them into separate piles on the floor.

  She'd forgotten to open the glass doors across from her to let in the breeze. As if on command, she heard one open. She looked up.

  “It would not be right for me to go to the Ball without you.” Grey stood there in his fine clothes.

  “Goodness! Are you in the habit of sneaking up on people?” She clutched her heart. “You scared me!”

  “That is two of us.”

  “What?”

  “That is two of us, I said. Last night when I left ... I was scared I had ruined things between us. The only reason I did not tell you who I was is because it happened so fast.”

  Her heart fluttered. “What happened so fast?”

  “It was not until we were on the horse together that I knew I loved you. When I realized, I knew I must speak to your father.”

  “What did you just say?” Kitty asked.

  “I think you heard me.”

  “No ... no, I really do not think I heard you correctly. I don't.” Her face heated and she fanned one of the books at her face.

  He grinned. “I said it was not until we were on the horse together that I knew for certain I was in love with you, and I knew I needed to speak with your father straight away. Did you hear me this time?”

  Kitty wanted to smile, but couldn't. Was he joking? A tiny seed of hope took root in her heart.

  “And when I realized how deeply I felt, I needed to do the proper thing, which as I said was speak with your father. And while we spoke, I told him who my father was, and we had a long talk.”

  “Is that really the truth?” Hope grew and blossomed, like the bouquets that filled the room, yet at the same time so did her uncertainty.

  “Yes, it is the truth.” He stepped inside the door. “And when I realized you believed I had deceived you, I came to speak to your father today. He told me it was unlikely you would go tonight. I daresay he could see my distress.”

  “He could?”

  “And he gave me permission to stay behind and ask you to the Ball as long as I promised, if you refused, I would leave. And so, please do not say no, because then I will have to leave because I have given your father my word.”

  Pleased he'd sought Papa's approval, she reevaluated. What a true gentleman. She couldn't pull her gaze from him. Grey walked toward her, looking down at her with such tenderness, as if memorizing all the details of her face. If only she could devour every feature of his handsome face, the dark hair against that creamy skin, and his masculine hands reaching out for hers now. They were warm as they covered hers and he easily lifted her to her feet.

  Shyly, Kitty looked away. Her skin flushed with pleasure at his persistence in courting her. Yet, confusion plagued her. She had cried too many tears, but wasn't that because she loved him? What did she feel now? How could she possibly know? It was all much too new. She turned to him.

  “Forgive me?” Grey's face betrayed his anxiety and uncertainty.

  She looked away again to think—quickly—of what to do. And what should she say? She mustn't let the pleading look in his eyes sway her. This was a crucial moment.

  Grey got down on bended knee.
>
  Oh, dear me.

  “My dearest Kitty, please forgive me?”

  He's rushing me.

  “I did not mean to be arrogant.”

  He had certainly been arrogant. She couldn't even think of it now. She had never cried so hard in her life or been so hurt. She must not forget that. What answer could she give?

  The warm night air, heavy with moisture and the fragrance of the flowers he'd sent, hung in the air. How could she get past the hurt and forgive his deception?

  “Might you forgive me?” he asked.

  Eventually she had to speak, she knew that. Yet, she was very hurt.

  “Might you be able to?”

  Finally, she spoke. “I might.”

  A radiant smile broke out on his face. His warm hand on hers tightened his hold.

  Looking down at Grey, she thought of his gift of the wildflowers. Overwhelmed by this moment, she recalled the feeling of him tucking the blanket against her with his soft hands. Tingling inside, she remembered riding on horseback and the cozy, pleasant feeling of his face nestled against her neck in an effort to warm her. That night had been magical, yet tonight seemed unexpected perfection.

  On this warm night, she felt fulfilled. Elated, she knew her future must include him. She had no hesitation or doubt. She loved him. And soon she'd tell him.

  “Now remember,” she whispered softly, “I said I might.”

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  * * *

  Wishes in April

  Kristi Ahlers

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  * * *

  Kristi Ahlers is a California girl! She grew up in Northern California in a small city called Yuba City. Where on earth is that you ask? Answer: 45 minutes north of Sacramento. She's lived in a variety of places such as Mississippi, Nebraska, England, Belgium, and now Illinois thanks to her vagabond lifestyle as a military spouse.

  In addition to Wishes in April, Kristi has stories in the following Highland Press anthologies: Blue Moon Magic and

  Recipe for Love.

  You can find Kristi on the web at