He puffed up, smiling warmly. “Never fear. I will be happy to teach you.”
Sir Blah muttered, “I’ll just wager you will.”
Lord Looks-Like-A-Cherub chuckled. “Daresay, it wants a fellow what can move without the confinement of a harness.” He and Sir Blah thought this comment enormously funny, and nearly fell upon one another in their hysterics.
Lord Horton turned pink. Elizabeth surmised the story of his collapse on Lady Alameda’s lawn had made the rounds. Now who, she wondered, would have distributed the tale? A quick glance at Miss Devious-Dunworthy giggling with Robert and two other couples answered the question. Her brother would think it a great lark, and Miss Devious would find it a useful attention-getting tale.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I trust you completely, my lord. I’m honored you would undertake the task.” She inclined her head graciously. “Indeed, I cannot think of anyone I would rather have instruct me.” She laced her remark with a hint of seduction. Enough seduction that Sir Blah and Lord Looks-Like-A-Cherub stopped laughing abruptly.
Lord Cherub-face protested and tried to recover his advantage. “Oh no. That is to say, I mean, dash it all, Lady Elizabeth. If you’re serious about learning the steps, I’d be happy to escort you to the balcony where we might practice in private.”
The others glared at him as if he were completely barmy for making such an improper suggestion.
“Didn’t mean it like that. Good heavens, it isn’t as if we’d be in the dark. Lady Ashburton has enough torches out there to light half of London. A bit of privacy, that’s all, to learn the steps without everyone watching.”
Sir Blah frowned skeptically. “Highly improper.”
Lord Horton regained his confidence. “Hardly necessary, old boy. I can manage the lesson right here in public.” He emphasized the “ck” sound on the end of public, sending Lord Looks-Like-A-Cherub into the sulks. Apparently her handsome suitor didn’t possess the requisite backbone that Lord St. Evert had insisted she deserved, either
She turned to Sir Blah for a moment, appraising the condition of his spine, and then sighed. At least he had twenty thousand a year. Perhaps she should give him a chance. According to rumor, he didn’t gamble, didn’t drink overmuch, and his only excess was spending a substantial amount of time and money on an enormous pack of hunting dogs. She smiled at Sir Blah and could almost hear a lifetime of yipping hounds in the background.
Fortunately, the noise proved to be the musicians, merely warming up for the promenade to the waltz. Lord Horton took her hand on his arm. They started their march around the perimeter of the room, and he showed her how to point her toe. She knew perfectly well how to do it, but it pleased him to play teacher.
A hubbub at the entrance signaled the arrival of latecomers. With a flourish the footman announced the Countess, Lady de Alameda and her nephew, Lord St. Evert. Elizabeth’s hand flew to clamp her stupid heart in place. The wretched organ seemed to have forgotten its rhythm. When she got a proper look at him, it did nothing to calm her racing pulse. Her hands tensed. Her breathing came in rapid outraged bursts. The scoundrel had on a green coat, the color being an almost identical match to the green of her gown.
“Are you quite well, my dear?” Horton chafed her rigid hand.
No. She was not well. Not well, at all. She was angry enough to stab pins into a certain overgrown green coat.
Behave like a lady.
She gritted her teeth and mustered a weak smile. “I am well, thank you. May I say, Lord Horton, you are extraordinarily considerate. The very image of a gentleman.” Unlike some men in her acquaintance, backbone or not.
Elizabeth and Lord Horton had paraded nearly halfway around the ballroom when a formidable trio impeded their progress. Like the prow of a large ship gliding into a pier, Lady Bessborough and her imposing bosom blocked their path. Beside her stood Lady Alameda and their hostess, Lady Ashburton.
A long violet ostrich feather drooped over Lady Bessborough’s mountainous coiffure. “What’s this I hear, young Horton? Naughty poems?”
The color washed out of his cheeks. Elizabeth feared he might faint again.
“Delightfully wicked poems. Tell her all about them Horty-Porty.” Lady Alameda nodded enthusiastically, giving him no time to speak. “Brilliant use of erotic symbolism. Subtle. Very feathery.” Her eyebrows waggled suggestively. “I nearly swooned the first time I heard him. Truly remarkable. Wait till you hear the part about a ladybird climbing upon his soaring wing.”
“Why Horton, you slyboots! Didn’t know you had it in you.” Lady Bessborough laughed loudly and slapped him on the shoulder. “Something of your father’s disposition after all.”
Horton’s color seemed to return after that last compliment, but he remained too astonished to speak.
“We wish to hear these ditties.” After using the royal we, Lady Bessborough looped her arm through his dangling limb and tugged him out to sea.
Lady Ashburton glanced around, both excited and anxious, and whispered behind her fan to Lady Alameda. “Oh dear. How erotic are these poems?”
Lady Alameda, who was busy maneuvering herself between Elizabeth and Lord Horton, took hold of his other arm. “Well, my dear, I can tell you this. I had to dismiss him from my sitting room. There were young ladies present.” She glanced pointedly at Elizabeth. “I feared they might get overexcited.”
Lady Ashburton tittered. “I’m all agog.”
“My sentiments exactly.” Lady Alameda and her cohorts ushered the unwitting poet away.
He cast a pleading backward glance at Elizabeth. “But I... I promised Lady Elizabeth.”
“Oh, never mind that. My nephew offered to take your place. He’ll be along to collect her shortly.”
“But I would rather,
