by Fanny Walsh
“I would be delighted,” she said and allowed Duncan to lead her onto the dance floor.
Mary could feel the eyes that burned into her as she and Duncan took a spot on the floor. She knew the men who had asked her to dance earlier were angry, perhaps even hurt.
But when she looked at Duncan’s face and his sweet smile, suddenly none of that mattered. He seemed to be even more handsome than she remembered, and her stomach fluttered.
Her breath caught as he placed both his hands on her waist and lifted her a few inches off the ground. She gasped, not realizing at first what he was doing. Then, he gently lowered her, so that her feet were resting on top of his.
At that moment, every single pair of eyes in the room could have been on the two of them, but Mary would not have noticed.
Duncan smiled reassuringly at her.
“We can dance like this,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and placing his other gently on her back.
He began to move slowly in rhythm with the music, waltzing for both of them. She thought of the ease with which he had lifted her, and she blushed. She looked at him through her lashes.
“This is very kind of you,” she said.
Duncan gave her another one of his charming smiles, a piece of his unruly hair bouncing on his forehead as they danced.
“It is the least I could do, since you were gracious enough to give me this dance.”
“I do hope I am not hurting you,” she said, worried about her pressure on his feet.
“Not at all. In fact, I am rather enjoying this.”
Mary laughed and, to her surprise, she discovered that she was enjoying herself, too. She hoped that her other would-be suitors did not take note of Duncan’s effort to help her dance and offer to do the same when the dance ended. But she would not concern herself with that just then, or with what she would say when she rejected subsequent dance invitations.
“I never thought to dance again,” Mary said, surprised at the tears of happiness that tickled her eyes. She blinked, not wanting Duncan to think that she was in pain or uncomfortable.
“The impossible does not always have to remain so,” he said. Mary thought that Duncan looked even happier than she did, and she marveled.
“So, if you cannot dance, why did you decide to attend the ball tonight?” Duncan asked. Mary realized that there was kind curiosity in his question, not haughty judgment, like that she had received when she declined the last gentleman who offered himself for a dance.
“Beatrice would not take no for an answer,” Mary said dryly. However, despite her earlier uncertainty, she was now glad that she had let Beatrice coax her into coming.
“I take your meaning precisely,” Duncan said bitterly. Mary could not help laughing at the expression on Duncan’s face. Soon, Duncan was laughing along with her.
Mary imagined that they must be quite a sight on the floor. She was enjoying herself more than she would have ever believed possible, and she loved every moment of it.
As they danced and talked, Mary caught a glimpse of Beatrice, still standing where they had been when Duncan approached. Both she and Duncan’s friend had identical expressions of bemusement on their faces. She laughed again.
Duncan followed her gaze to the two standing nearby watching them with such amusement. His expression turned sour for just a moment, then he looked into Mary’s eyes and joined in her merriment again, too.
Mary’s heart fluttered as she watched Duncan enjoying the ball. She had to admit that even she was having a wonderful time since Duncan’s arrival. For the first time in months, she felt as though she belonged at a dance.
“My word, doctor, I would not have guessed that you dance so well,” Mary teased.
Duncan looked at her with a feigned wounded expression, but his eyes were sparkling.
“You expected a grand, clumsy oaf?” he asked.
Mary laughed.
“To be sure, I did not know quite what to expect. Although I have danced with many an oaf at these balls.”
Duncan laughed.
“Of that, I have no doubt,” he said. Then he looked at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Speaking of dancing, which are your favorite types of dances?”
Mary blinked in pleasant surprise. She had not expected Duncan to take an interest in things she enjoyed. Truthfully, she had never given much thought to her favorite things, including dances, especially since she had injured her leg.
She had had little time to think about herself at all since taking over her father’s business dealings, and, if she was being honest with herself, it was too painful to think of the things she once loved while her family was alive.
Mary smiled fondly, remembering some of the dances her brother had taught her.
“I am sure that you expect me to say that I enjoy the grand, elegant dances,” she said sheepishly. “But my favorites were always the English Country dances.”
Duncan raised his eyebrows.
“Oh?” he said, his voice more pleasant than surprised.
“Yes,” Mary said. “Those were some of the first that I learned. My brother taught me them when I was a girl. We would practice them many nights after dinner while mother played the pianoforte.”
Duncan nodded approvingly.
“I enjoy those dances, as well,” he said.
Mary beamed. Most men found English Country dances silly, so to hear Duncan say otherwise warmed her heart.
“Do you play the pianoforte, as well?” he asked.
“A little,” Mary said. “Although Mother was always the gifted pianoforte player in our family. My love was the violin.”
Again, Duncan smiled appreciatively.
“String instruments have always seemed to have richer tones, in my opinion,” he said.
Mary nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Father always thought so, too. He hired the finest violin tutor for me when he discovered my talent for the instrument.” Mary smiled wanly.
“I used to play and sing for hours. Mother and Father never tired of listening to me practice in the wee hours in the morning, even though my skill seemed to lie more in the strings than my voice.”
Duncan smiled, his eyes still shining warmly. Mary felt herself blush under his gaze.
“Well, doctor, since much of your life involves many textbooks, I could guess that you are well-versed in literature,” Mary said. She found herself wishing to know a bit more about Duncan.
Duncan smiled.
“I love books of all kinds,” Duncan said. “Books were often my closest friends. Although some might consider my taste in certain books a bit unorthodox.”
Mary tilted her head, puzzled.
Duncan laughed.
“You are familiar with Shakespeare, I presume?” Duncan asked.
Mary nodded, her eyes lighting. She loved many of Shakespeare’s works, but it was not something she spoke of often, as it was often frowned upon in high society for a lady to take interest in some of the author’s more risqué works.
“I have read many of his works,” Duncan continued. “I have even seen some stage performances of Shakespeare plays.”
Mary’s face illuminated. She could hardly believe that he, too, appreciated Shakespeare. Her father and brother were the only two men she had known who did not find much of Shakespeare’s work distasteful or vulgar.
“I love Shakespeare,” Mary agreed.
As they continued dancing, they continued discussing Shakespeare, exchanging their personal favorite works by the playwright and laughing at the reactions of those in high society with whom they had previously attempted to discuss him.
As they talked, Mary found herself becoming more enthralled with Duncan, and wishing that the dance did not have to end.
The dance did end, however, and much too soon. Before she knew it, Duncan was escorting her off the dance floor and back to where Beatrice and his friend stood. She was not certain, but Duncan seemed reluctant to release her hand, letting it
linger a brief second longer than necessary.
Then, he looked at his friend.
“I seem to have forgotten my manners earlier. Lady Linden, this is my good friend, Julius Merriweather,” he said.
His friend bowed.
“It is an honor, Lady Linden.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Mary said, dipping into a curtsey.
Beatrice softly cleared her throat, and Mary stood upright again.
“Lord Merriweather, Lord Tornight, this is Miss Beaumont.”
Beatrice curtsied to the men, smiling. She appraised Duncan for a brief moment, then looked at Mary, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Duncan, if I may,” his friend gestured with his hand, indicating that he wished to speak to Duncan in private.
Duncan looked at Mary, with what she thought was a wistful look.
“Certainly, old fellow,” he said, allowing his friend to take him away.
Mary sighed. She did not realize she had been staring at him until Beatrice spoke.
“Well? Are you going to explain yourself, or am I going to have to drag every detail out of you?” she asked, barely suppressing a giggle.
Mary blushed, and looked at her friend. She thought carefully, debating on how much to tell Beatrice.
“He was quite charming,” she said at last.
“And with how many marriage proposals did Lord Charming bombard you?”
At that moment, Mary realized that he had not even suggested the idea of courting her, let alone asked for her hand. He had given her the very first dance she had had since before her family died, yet he had asked for nothing in return.
She smiled.
“Not a single one,” she said.
Beatrice looked long and hard at her face, seemingly looking for something in her expression. Mary blushed again.
“I do believe that I detect a hint of smitten in your eyes,” Beatrice said, laughing.
“You are absolutely incorrigible,” Mary said, her blush deepening. Yet she could feel the smile creeping onto her face as she discreetly scanned the room for Duncan.
She spotted him standing with Lord Merriweather and a woman, who she presumed to be his friend’s wife, since she was holding on to one of his arms. She was surprised to find that Duncan seemed to be looking at her, as well. However, as soon as their eyes met, Duncan looked away quickly, seemingly embarrassed to have been caught looking.
Mary’s smile grew wider. She made her decision then: she would, indeed, send the letter she had written to Duncan about her leg procedure, if for no other reason than to see him again.
Chapter 8
Duncan sipped his brandy as he sat at his desk, sifting through stacks of paper and mail. It had been an especially long day, full of rather stressful appointments, and he was anxious to finish his paperwork and get back to his books.
He had just made up his mind to put off the rest of the mail reading until the next morning, but one letter exposed itself when he tossed the pile aside.
He grabbed the envelope, reading the name and details over and over, ensuring that he was not imagining words scrawled on it. Satisfied that he was not, he tore open the letter, excited, but careful to not damage Mary’s postal information.
He read her letter with great care, admiring the grace of her penmanship and the intellect with which she wrote. She thanked him for dancing with her at the ball, saying she had had a wonderful time.
Duncan smiled, thinking of how nice that dance had been for him, too. Then, she got to the point of the reason for her correspondence.
She explained that, although she enjoyed herself at the ball, it was a stark reminder to her that she would never be able to properly socialize at subsequent balls, let alone dance, with her bum leg. So, after that night, she had decided to make an appointment with Duncan, to discuss the procedure he had mentioned.
She hoped that, after healing from the procedure, she would be able to attend the first ball of the Season the following year, with her leg as good as new.
His smile widened. He could not believe his luck. Since meeting Mary, he had thought time and again about how much he wanted the chance to help her. Now, she was going to grant him the opportunity.
Duncan set about answering her letter right away. He told her that he could see her later that week. He also explained that, if his treatment and her healing went according to plan, he could have her up and about by the end of that year.
He hesitated at that part, wondering if he should not keep his cautious optimism to himself for the time being.
In the end, he decided to go ahead and let her know his expectations for the procedure. He could explain other possibilities and any potential issues during her consultation, once he had more thoroughly examined her leg.
He finished the letter and sealed it, placing it carefully on his desk so he would see it and send it out first thing in the morning.
***
Time dragged for Duncan that week. When at last the day came for Mary to come to his office, which she had confirmed through another brief letter, he found himself feeling a bit nervous.
He had closed his practice to all other patients, so he could ensure that his schedule was completely clear. Mary’s letter had said that she would be there around noon or so, so Duncan paced anxiously in his office.
He wanted very much to ask her about courting her, but his biggest fear was that he would put her off or scare her away. He wished he could talk to someone about it.
“Hello there?” a male voice called from the entrance.
Duncan threw open his office door and let Julius in.
“You have impeccable timing, Julius,” he said, shaking Julius’s hand.
Julius appraised him briefly.
“So it would seem. You look almost at the edge of madness, my friend,” he said.
Duncan looked at him with a nervous smile.
“I have a rather important appointment today.”
“Oh?” Julius asked, curious.
“Lady Linden is coming to discuss an issue,” he said.
Julius’s eyes widened.
“Well done, old friend! Should I expect an engagement announcement soon, then?”
Duncan stared at his friend, thoughtful.
“Actually, I could use your advice in that regard,” he said.
Julius laughed.
“If you are going to ask me if you should wed a countess, I will tell you that you are a madman if you do not.”
“There is always the possibility that she might not want to wed me,” Duncan said, becoming increasingly more nervous. “Which leads me to the advice I seek from you.” He gestured for Julius to take a seat and took his own behind his desk.
“I want very much to take the chance and ask Lady Linden to court her. However, after what you told me that night at the ball, I fear that she would only find me as yet another awful suitor vying for her titles. Or, worse still, I worry that it might put expectations on her that frighten her away.”
Julius thought for a moment.
“Well, you have a golden opportunity in your hands,” he said at last.
“How’s that?”
“You will be treating her, will you not?” Julian asked. Duncan gave a curt nod, wondering where his friend’s thoughts were leading.
“So, you treat her, gain her confidence and observe her attentions toward you, and then—” Julius paused dramatically, eyes glittering, “—use her treatment as leverage to get her to agree to court and marry you.”
Duncan looked agape at his friend.
“Surely you jest,” he asked, incredulous.
“Not at all,” Julius said, as though what he had said was perfectly reasonable.
Duncan shook his head, unable to believe what his friend was saying.
“And make myself seem as though I am no better than all the other title-hungry mongrels pursuing her? No, that is a perfectly terrible thing to do to her, and I will not do it.”
“Alright, a
lright.” Julius held his hands up in surrender. “But you were the one who asked for my advice. I simply gave it.”
“And as a man who has a wife, I cannot believe your advice was so cruel.”
Julius’s smile faded, and he appeared to be thinking about something. Likely about how he would feel if someone had done that to his beloved Eliza.