Affair of Pretense

Six

"We'll have to start over again," pronounced Denver firmly.

Miss Kentsville raised a pleading look at him. "Oh, no! Please, can we take a little break? My feet start to feel sore now," she complained.

"When it comes to that," returned the Marquis, somewhat tartly, "it should have been mine you have to take pity on. You have a great deal to work on your waltz, my girl, if you hope to have some tolerable fellow for a dance partner."

She hung her head. "I am sorry! I am trying my best to be good at it, you know."

"I know. But being an excellent dancer is much more better. Come brat, no time for dawdling. Cassy, will you be so good?" Seated before the pianoforte, Cassy nodded and began to fiddle her hands on the keys again.

"The art of waltzing, my dear Miss Kentsville," began the Marquis, placing her hand on his, "is something one cannot learn in a day of course, although I feel compelled to point out that three days of practice should have made you a little more polished. Not only — "

"I can't help it!"

"Don't interrupt me! Not only you have to master the steps, but you have to dance with lightness of feet, almost as though you are floating; one wrong, or awkward step is utterly unforgivable. You would have the patronesses of Almack's frowning upon you, besides disgracing your partner. Straighten your back!"

Georgie did so at this sharp command, and put her hand on his shoulder. Since the Marquis was nearly two heads taller than her, this did a little strain on her arm. Denver started to twirl her round their makeshift dance floor (which was her ladyship's parlour with all the chairs and furniture put aside), and began to quicken their pace. At some point, she nearly tripped, and was on the verge of treading on his lordship's toe once more but this she avoided at all cost.

"My feet are very stiff now," she remarked, looking. up "And so is my neck!"

"Don't put much pressure on them."

"I can't help it with my neck! And I fear I might inflict another injury on your foot again," she warned darkly.

"Come my dear, you're getting better," observed his lordship. "One, two, three... One, two, three... there! Faster and smoother, Georgie — no, don't look down! Fix your eyes on me."

She did, and found a pair of hazel eyes smiling down at her. "You are so good at it that I feel as though you're just carrying me without the least difficulty!" she returned with a small laugh.

"Merci du compliment!"

The music ended and Miss Kentsville made a beautiful curtsy that found approval in the Marquis' eyes. From the doorway of the parlour, Lord Emerson clapped his hands, momentarily diverted. To his wife's delight, he got on with Georgie very well, and thought that she was quite a good girl, with no bone of deceit in her little body. "Congratulations, Miss Kentsville," he said, smiling, "I hope that one day I may have the honour to dance with you."

"Of course! What do you think of my dancing, ma'am?"

Cassy said: "Very excellent, my dear. You make me very proud indeed!"

"Nonsense!" cut in his lordship, deliberately ruining the cheery mood of the room. "Miss Kentsville is nowhere near to being perfect."

"Oh, go to the devil, Denver!" advised Lord Emerson, pardonably annoyed.

"I doubt the devil will want my company more urgently than Miss Kentsville does," returned the Marquis imperturbably. "We haven't yet done with her lessons."