‘Take me to the garden, Lord Corneale, and give me a big, sloppy, slimy kiss’?”
When they stopped laughing, Penelope remarked, “I’m not sure exactly how Lord Corneale got such a message, but perhaps...” she rested the tip of the fan on her right cheek “—did you do something like this?” At Evleen’s nod, she said, “Then that’s likely what you did. In essence, it means yes.”
For the next hour, Evleen practiced with her own fan, learned fast, and enjoyed herself in the bargain. It was good to laugh again, although, come to think of it, she had never in her life spent such a frivolous afternoon. Back in County Clare, work and worry filled their lives. The money—the illnesses—the struggle to stay warm despite the damp, creeping cold left little time for fun as fancy-free as this.
Just as she was confident she’d mastered the language of the fan, Lord Thomas appeared in the doorway. Evleen caught her breath at the unexpected sight of him, standing there in that casual stance of his, with that lop-sided grin on his dark, handsome face. “I thought you were leaving London today,” she said.
“Obviously not,” he replied. “Penelope has recruited me to help teach you the waltz.”
She remembered the previous night and the callous manner in which she’d rejected him. What must he think? “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Say no more.” He went to her and held out his hand. He signaled to Penelope, who had seated herself at the piano. “Play us a waltz, sister, slow if you please, and we shall have Miss O’Fallon waltzing in no time.” He placed his hand around her waist. “Now, put your hand on my shoulder, don’t look down, step back with your right foot, and off we go.”
Soon she was waltzing. “You have a natural bent for it,” Thomas declared after only minutes. Feeling herself move gracefully, in perfect tune to the music, she knew he was right. Such fun! The remains of her blue funk disappeared. Later, when Montague came to see what all the commotion was about, he, too, waltzed her around the room and proclaimed she was a first rate waltzer. “You’ll do fine, Miss O’Fallon,” he said, his eyes warm with admiration. “I shall claim all your waltzes at the next ball.”
Thinking of Lydia’s reaction if he did, her spirits dipped, but not for long. “We shall see,” she said, giving him an enigmatic smile. Nothing could ruin this delightful afternoon.
When she made ready to leave, her heart was full of gratitude. She tried to express her thanks, but Thomas wouldn’t hear it. “Come back tomorrow, Miss O’Fallon,” he told her politely. “We shall learn the quadrille.”
When Penelope was alone with Evleen at the front door, she asked pointedly, “Er... that mud-colored gown? Will you be wearing it again to Lord and Lady Trent’s ball next Friday night?”
“You needn’t be polite,” came Evleen’s laughing answer. “Lord Trevlyn hired a dressmaker and I’ve already been fitted. With any luck, at the next ball I’ll have my own gown, not that hideous hand-me-down.”
“Marvelous.” Penelope clasped her hands with delight. “I have so enjoyed this afternoon.”
“As have I.”
“I have never met anyone quite like you.” Penelope’s warmth was sincere. “I predict that fair, fresh beauty of yours and that fiery Irish spirit will make you the belle of the ball.”
Despite her new friend’s encouraging words, and her pleasurable afternoon, Evleen was struck by an odd twinge of worry. “I don’t know that you’re right,” she said quietly, “but even if you are, what with one thing and another, I’m not sure being the belle of the ball is the best thing for me.”
Penelope sighed heavily. “What you mean is, the more successful you are, the more jealous Lydia and her daughters will become.”
“I suppose, but surely they would do nothing to harm me.”
“Oh, no, no, of course not,” Penelope quickly answered, but she didn’t sound too convinced.
* * *
For several days in a row, Evleen was invited back to the Marquess’s elegant townhouse, where, after tea, the dancing lessons continued. Evleen found each visit delightful. She thoroughly enjoyed the music, witty conversation, and, most of all, the close proximity to a man whose company she found increasingly pleasurable. As for Thomas, at first she found his motives were obscure. He had been charming, yet distant. His manners were so impeccable she had begun to wonder if his passionate kiss in the carriage was simply a moment of playful lust, of no deep significance at