Someone to Love

“But is Anna learning as well as enjoying herself?” Avery asked.

“I do believe she is,” his stepmother said with obvious reluctance after stopping to consider. “But that is hardly the point, is it, Avery? One would think she would take her education seriously. I could weep when I think of how my brother kept her incarcerated in that institution for so many years when she was the daughter of his lawful wife. And one cannot help having one’s doubts about the wisdom of allowing Cousin Elizabeth to be her companion. On the morning after we had all specifically instructed Anastasia to remain at home until she could look presentable and behave like a lady, Elizabeth took her shopping on Bond Street and Oxford Street. They attracted a great deal of notice as they emerged from numerous shops loaded with packages and looking as though they were enjoying themselves immensely.”

“I daresay they were,” Avery said, wondering idly if Anna had embarked upon the shopping expedition looking like the prim governess or the country milkmaid. He might have taken a saunter along Bond Street himself if he had known . . . No, he would not. There was a certain kiss that needed to be forgotten. It certainly would not do to encounter his fellow kisser anytime soon.

The dancing master had also arrived at Westcott House with his own accompanist, Avery’s stepmother reported one evening. Anastasia knew the steps of several country dances, but, oh dear, Mr. Robertson had discovered that she danced them with vigor and no idea at all of what she should do with her hands and her head as she danced. She did not know how to waltz and apparently had never even heard of the dance until a few days ago.

“She certainly must not attend any balls for a while,” the duchess added. “Perhaps not even this year. But by next year she will be twenty-six. I only wonder what sort of a husband we will be able to find for someone of such advanced years.”

“Probably the sort who fancies acquiring a vast fortune with his bride,” Avery said.

“I daresay you are right,” she agreed, brightening.

“And when are the waltz lessons to begin?” he asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “Avery, you should just see the straw bonnet she purchased on Bond Street of all places. It is enough to make me weep, and the milliner ought to be ashamed of herself for stocking it. It is the plainest thing you could possibly imagine. Elizabeth bought a very pretty and fashionable hat at the same shop. One wonders if she even tried to exert some influence . . .”

But Avery had stopped listening. He really was, he thought, going to have to start dining at his club more often. He drew the limit at ladies’ bonnets as a topic of conversation. There was a ball this evening that Edwin Goddard had reminded him he wished to attend. The Honorable and delectable Miss Edwards had amassed a large court of admirers. A space on her very full dancing card could always mysteriously be found, however, whenever the Duke of Netherby hove into sight and sauntered by to ask for one, usually a waltz.

He dressed with meticulous care—but when did he not?—and made his appearance at the ball. He conversed amiably with his hostess for a few minutes, ambled along to join the crowd about Miss Edwards, conversed amiably with her for a minute or two while she flirted with her eyes and her fan, and the rest of her admirers fell back in almost open resentment, and then nodded amiably and moved on and out of the ballroom and right out of the house less than half an hour after he had entered it.

Nothing but bland amiability.

Tonight Miss Edwards had looked even more fetching than usual. But sometimes one was just not in the mood for a ball or even for an acclaimed beauty. He stood on the street taking snuff and considering his options before turning homeward in all his evening finery. It was not even midnight.

He wandered along to Westcott House the following afternoon to find a dancing lesson in progress in the music room. A severe-looking young woman with a very straight back and a sharp red nose upon which were perched wire-framed spectacles sat at the pianoforte, while a tall, thin man, clearly her father and presumably the dancing master, stood before it. The dowager countess was seated to one side of the room, the inevitable Lady Matilda beside her. Mrs. Westcott, Cousin Althea, stood near them, smiling with pleasure at the scene before her. Riverdale was standing in the middle of the floor in waltz position with Cousin Elizabeth.

And beside the pianoforte stood Anna, her hair styled a little more severely than it had been after it was cut, with not one strand out of place, and wearing a white muslin day dress as plain as any dress could be that had clearly been expertly styled and made of expensive fabric. Her hands, her neck, and her face were the only parts of her body that were visible. The dress had a high round neckline and long, fitted sleeves. The skirt fell in soft folds from a high waistline to her ankles. Not for her, obviously, the newest fashion of showing the ankles. She was wearing stays, which emphasized her slimness and gave her a bit of a bosom, though not much of one in the eyes of a connoisseur. On her feet she wore white dancing slippers, which looked at least two sizes smaller than her black shoes and a ton lighter.

Avery looked her over through his quizzing glass while everyone turned his way. He lowered the glass and made his bow.

“Do carry on,” he said, gesturing to the dancing master with the hand that held the glass.

“Alexander and Elizabeth are demonstrating the correct positioning for the waltz,” Lady Matilda explained to Avery rather unnecessarily. “I still maintain that it is an improper dance, especially for an unmarried lady or for a lady not dancing with her husband or brother, but my protests always fall upon deaf ears. It has become fashionable, and those of us who speak up for propriety are called old-fashioned.”