She quit calling after the cat, not that it would in the least diminish her humiliating position. Nor would it wipe away the burn in her cheeks.
Now Lord Appleton joined in the mission to corner her wayward cat. As Fur Blossom ran away from Dot, his lordship ran toward them. This succeeded in trapping the black and white cat in a corner where Dot promptly launched herself at it.
This time she managed to hook her hands into the cat’s sizable belly—but not without sprawling over the wooden floor in a most unladylike fashion. She chided Fur Blossom because she was too humiliated to look up at his lordship. She didn’t think she could bear to look up at him at the precise moment. No doubt, he would be eyeing her with pity. She could not bear it.
Her father came up just then, his brows lowering. “I think, Dot, in the future it would be wise to leave your cats at home.”
He didn’t need to tell her. Nothing had ever humiliated Dot more. Onlookers were still giggling.
She finally looked up at Lord Appleton. “Forgive me, my lord. I’m unaccustomed to town ways.”
His face softened. “There’s nothing to forgive. Can I assist with your cat?”
Mr. Pankhurst intervened. “I think I’ll take Fur Blossom home. As it is, I’m tired and need to return home. I understand you’re going to the Appletons’ house from here.”
“I ought to go with you.” She could not inflict her embarrassing presence upon the Appletons anymore. They deserved better.
“You’ll do no such thing!” Miss Appleton said. “You promised you’d come home with us.”
So she could further humiliate herself with her ignorance of dancing. “Perhaps I shouldn’t.”
Lord Appleton bent down and helped her up. “We must insist, Miss Pankhurst. My sister is prostrate with no friends.”
Just like Dot, who had no friends. She looked at Miss Appleton’s hopeful gaze. And even though Dot thoroughly understood the peculiarity of her own behavior today, she believed that the Appletons accepted her as she was. What wonderful people they were.
Lord Appleton regarded her father. “Since you know nothing of us, I am sure you’d like to ensure your daughter’s reputation. Please, Mr. Pankhurst, come home with us.” He eyed Fur Blossom. “That cat will be most welcome.” He eyed his sister. “My sister is enchanted with the creature.”
* * *
It was a rather arduous walk, mostly uphill, to the Appletons’ residence on Camden Crescent. Dot was most proud of her father for not once complaining.
The house was everything she could have expected from a home belonging to a peer. It was considerably larger than the one her father had taken. Its situation at the street’s center point accentuated its stateliness in much the same way as symmetrically arranged chairs on either side of a throne.
The interiors, while of grand proportions and featuring furnishings that had once been magnificent, indicated this was a home to a large family that lived over every inch. Copies of Ackermann’s and books with slips of paper marking the pages piled up on tables, and the whist table that had been set up in front of the fire in the drawing room awaited a new gathering of players. A half-filled cup of tea had not been removed from the top of the pianoforte. Without asking, Dot knew there was no Lady Appleton. The house needed a matriarch’s touch.
After the Appleton servants rolled up the carpet in the drawing room, Lord Appleton attempted to teach Dot some dance steps while his sister provided music on the pianoforte.
Mr. Pankhurst watched the proceedings from the chair he had collapsed in after the vigorous walk, holding Fur Blossom for his daughter.
“Even if I could still remember the steps after five-and-twenty years,” Dot’s father said, sighing. “I wouldn’t be able to teach her, owing to the ever-mounting abundance of my infirmities.”
“But I daresay you’re still a young man,” Miss Appleton said.
“You do look fit,” Lord Appleton added.
Mr. Pankhurst’s lids lowered as he sighed. For the second time. “Would that it were so. Only for my daughter—who is possessed of every benevolent attribute a girl could have, along with a high degree of intelligence—would I be able to endure so taxing a walk as I’ve undertaken today.”
Dot glared at him. “You did very well, Papa, but, pray, do not boast on me. Can you not see how poorly I compare to Miss Appleton?”
“Fiddlefudge!” Mr. Pankhurst eyed the female hostess. “I mean no disparagement to you, Miss Appleton, but anyone with eyes in their head can see that Dot here—or Dorothea, which is her given name—is a pretty little thing, even if she doesn’t wear stylish dresses. Yet.”
“Of course,” Lord Appleton agreed, offering Dot his hand. “May I have the honor of the next set, Miss Pankhurst?”
Learning new things had always come easily to Dot. Yet today she was embarrassed over her lack of even the most rudimentary vocabulary of dance. Imagine the French words chassé referring to a dance move! How would she ever learn all there was to learn?
Another impediment was her physical awkwardness. While his lordship, though a man, performed the dance steps gracefully, Dot felt like a clomping elephant.
Her gracious host and hostess never let on that they saw her deficiencies. “Very good, Miss Pankhurst,” Lord Appleton complimented when she executed one of the steps he’d shown her.
“I declare,” Miss Appleton said, “Miss Pankhurst is possessed of a natural talent for dancing.”
Blushing, Dot’s gaze swept from brother to sister. “You two are great prevaricators.”
“They most certainly are not,” her father defended. “You, my dear daughter, are a quick learner. Always have been.” He addressed their host. “Her old governess said of all the girls she’d instructed in thirty years, my Dot was the quickest learner and the most intelligent of all.”
Dot’s cheeks burned. “I beg that you not praise me so, Papa. The Appletons will think you a great prevaricator.”
As self-conscious as she was
