Learning to Waltz (41 page)

“Oh, no tears!” cried Elizabeth. “They’ll ruin your face!” Francine jumped to the rescue with cotton wadding, Bethan handed her the powder; Mrs. Carlington took the box from her daughter’s shaking hands and detached the baubles from the silk pillow that cushioned them. Then Elizabeth took over, carefully guiding the chain beneath the curls that kissed Deborah’s neck and hanging the earrings in place.

“Oh, ma’am,” Bethan breathed, not far from tears herself.

Elizabeth drew Deborah to her feet and surveyed her critically. “Perfect,” she pronounced. Francine applied a couple extra dabs of perfume. Her mother kissed her cheek. Bethan helped her pull on her gloves and handed her the fan Mrs. Haverfield had given her. Julian was attached to his grandmother’s skirts but came shyly forward as his mama knelt down—carefully—and held out her arms. A near-tragedy had brought them here; and if she still could not believe in happy-ever-afters, she finally felt ready to accept what happiness might be granted in the here and now.

She and Elizabeth left the room and made their way to the stairs. Several steps down, Elizabeth abruptly dropped Deborah’s arm, exclaiming brightly, “I forgot something! Do go on, I’ll be down directly.”

Clustered in the hall, awaiting the ladies who would join them in the receiving line, were the men of the family: Philip, and the earl, and Mr. Haverfield, and “Uncle Frederick”, a fatherly type who was to give her hand to Evan tomorrow—and yes, Evan as well. Deborah faltered, but she could hardly stop now that their eyes had turned toward her.

Another lady would have made the most of her moment. But Deborah did not know how to strike a pose or amend her posture to emphasize her womanly assets. What she wanted was to fly back to her room and hide under the covers. She could see nothing but admiration in the faces arrayed below her, but appearances could be deceiving. So she found Evan again and concentrated all her attention on him.

In her dreams of this moment, his eyes always crinkled up in that smile of his, but he was not smiling now. He looked stunned.

Evan had always thought her beautiful.
But tonight…
Her gown was superbly flattering, draping around her legs in a damnably seductive manner as she descended the stairs, in a particularly delectable shade of blue that made her skin glow, with copper-colored trimmings that answered the gleam of her hair. And yes, the amber necklace as well—Elizabeth had been right. He realized his mouth was hanging open and made a conscious effort to close it.

From one of the men came a low whistle of appreciation; Evan was fully sympathetic to that. It made Deborah blush, though, and he dredged up a smile to reassure her. He kissed both her hands as she reached the foot of the stairs, and she curtsied, giving him a shy smile of her own. As he turned her away from the group, he heard Elizabeth murmur in her husband’s ear. “That went rather well, don’t you think?”

Evan laughed softly. When Deborah looked up at him in inquiry, he shook his head.

“My sister should have been a puppeteer. She manipulates us all.”

So many eyes as she gave Evan her hand. So many eyes as they faced each other at the head of the two columns of dancers. They watched Evan, of course; but
she
was the mystery, the one none of them knew, the subject of so many murmured comparisons to Evan’s smiling, easy manners; to Alberta’s poise and confidence; to Elizabeth’s
joie de vivre
.

She failed all those comparisons, failed them miserably. She would be better suited to a family of misfits.

Those relatives who were staying at the house knew this already, of course, and all the guests at the ball would know it soon enough. Deborah had never felt so exposed as she did that evening. Coming down those stairs by herself had been one of the most difficult things she had ever done. Almost, she could wish she had fallen and broken her neck.

For the hundredth time she thought about putting an end—yet again—to the whole charade. But it would be too dreadfully rude to those who had put so much into the preparations or traveled long distances to be here when Evan took a wife. And to Evan it would be worse than rude.

He looked marvelously happy as they stood waiting for the musicians to strike the first chord. His smile could be seen by all; the love in his eyes was for her alone. She blushed and bit her lip.

They came together in the first figure of the dance. He squeezed her fingers. “You’re frowning, my love.”

She tried on a smile, but it must have been a poor effort because he chuckled. “I’m thinking this might be the worst evening of our wedded life. Well,
almost
wedded. After tomorrow, things will start falling into place, Deborah, I promise. We’ll be away from all these people, just the two of us.”

That was intimidating, too, but only a little. They took a turn around another couple.

“You will love the Lakes. I’ve chosen out-of-the-way places, so we’ll not be too crowded by other summer travelers.”

She did want to see the Lakes. In fact, she wanted to see anyplace Evan would take her. It was a dream she had never allowed herself. They danced a figure with the next couple and then returned to each other.

“And then we’ll be in Yorkshire, at Elizabeth’s.”

That
made her smile a little. She was eager to see Elizabeth’s home, learn something of how she managed her household. Philip and Elizabeth had invited Julian and Mrs. Carlington to travel north with them and await the newlyweds there. Julian, who had been quite agonized at the idea of not seeing his mama for an entire month, had greeted this new notion with relief and enthusiasm. His grandmother, who found most of the Haverfields rather daunting, felt the same.

Deborah’s smile widened. “Julian told me he’s glad Aunt Elizabeth is not a countess.”

Evan laughed. “As though she would be anything other than a hoyden, whatever title she might hold. But there’s no question he will be happier there than with Alberta and Theo.”

No question at all
.

Deborah was exhausted by the time Evan came to claim her for the last waltz. She had danced the first with his father, stately and staid. He’d apologized for being old and creaky, but she was glad to review the steps in his sedate hands. Because the second waltz, with Philip, was not stately at all. She had no time to think about steps as he took her twirling and laughing around the room.

Evan’s style, she supposed, would be somewhere between the two. But from the moment she laid her hand in his and looked up into his eyes, she forgot to notice. She forgot her fatigue as well.

“I swear I’ve danced with every woman in the room,” he complained.

“You couldn’t possibly.”

“It feels like it, anyway. I’ve missed you dreadfully.” He guided her through a couple of turns. “You look happy, my love. Are you enjoying the evening?”

“I’m enjoying
this
.” He smiled down at her, and she forgot to move her feet.

He chuckled as he set her in motion again. “Much as I’d like to send all these people to perdition, and blow out all the candles, and waltz you into bed, I’m afraid it’s not time yet.”

Despite the country hours they kept, the clock struck two before the last of the guests departed. Servants milled around, cleaning up the mess that became suddenly so apparent once the rooms emptied of the silks and satins, the colors and the elegant coiffures, the chatter and the laughter, the cadence of the music and the movement of the dance.

Evan lingered in the hall with the rest of his family, except for Mama, who had retired long ago. Theo, disdainful of the punch and champagne served during the ball, paid a visit to the library and brought out brandy for the men.

He and Alberta seemed wide awake—they were accustomed to the social whirl of London where two o’clock was still an early hour. Everyone else showed the effects of exhaustion to a greater or lesser extent. Philip had yanked off his cravat, which now hung over his shoulder; Elizabeth held her shoes in one hand.

Mr. Haverfield took just a sip of his brandy before setting the glass back on the tray. “I’m for bed. Glad this is the last of these infernal affairs I’ll ever have to host.” He gave his eldest daughter a kiss. “Thank you, my dear. Everything was splendid.”

“Hear hear!”

“Yes, Berta,” affirmed Evan. “It was a superhuman effort. A wonderful wedding present.” A hug for her and then for Elizabeth. “You as well, Lizzy. I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for Deborah.”

“She looked quite ravishing tonight, my dear,” said Philip. “
Almost
as lovely as you.”

Elizabeth laughed and received his kiss with pleasure. “She
is
pretty, is she not?”

Theo addressed himself to Evan. “Acquitted herself better than I expected, your Mrs. Moore.”

Evan grunted. “I’m glad to know that after today I need never hear that name again.”

“She even
talked
with some of her partners,” Theo added, “though I’m not sure how they managed the feat.”

Evan rounded on him. “Could be they gave her some reason to
like
them! You might try doing the same.”

Theo held up both hands in conciliation. “She certainly demonstrated endurance tonight. Danced every dance, I believe?”

“Every one,” Elizabeth confirmed. “She said she didn’t know how to refuse. I think she was gratified, though.” She yawned.

“I expect all the champagne Philip brought her helped a bit,” said Alberta, dryly.

“I saw that!” Evan exclaimed. “No wonder she’s collapsed.”

Philip held up a hand to absolve himself. “Just acting on Lizzy’s instructions. And it was well-watered. How did she get upstairs without saying her good nights, I’d like to know.”

“I’m here,” came a small, disembodied voice from behind them. As the last guest walked out the door, Deborah had wilted on Evan’s arm, and he had deposited her in one of the tall upholstered chairs that stood in the hall. It was turned away from the group by the stairs, and none of the others had noticed her there.

“Deb!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Why are you hiding? We would have toasted you!”

“Not hiding,” Deborah murmured. “My feet hurt.”

“I’m not surprised, my dear.” Evan smiled and squatted down to pull off her shoes. “I don’t think she needs any more champagne, Lizzy. Tomorrow will be soon enough for toasts.”

Evan carried her up the stairs, the others trailing behind. “We’ll catch her if you fall,” called Philip.

“Who will catch me?” Evan asked over his shoulder.

“You’re on your own, old chap,” Theo replied.

At the top of the stairs, Philip bowed low and handed Deborah her shoes. “Your glass slippers, Cinderella.” She giggled and then yawned. Good nights followed all round.

Bethan was curled up asleep in the big chair in Deborah’s room. She jumped to her feet when they entered, rubbing her eyes and stammering in apology. “I didna mean to fall asleep, ma’am!”

“I’m asleep myself,” Deborah groaned. “Oh, do put me down, Evan. You can’t marry me if your back is broken.”

“I would manage somehow, sweetheart. And don’t think you’ll get out of it by sleeping through the day tomorrow!” Deborah gave a gurgle of laughter. “Would you give us a few minutes please, Bethan?”