Page 45 of My Fair Lord

‘If you have taught your pupil well the location should make not a whit of difference,’ he had said at least twice, much to Florence’s vexation.

“I thought we should begin dancing lessons today,” she declared. “Cordelia has kindly agreed to accompany us on the piano.”

Cordelia had not so much agreed as wearily consented after Florence’s repeated entreaties the previous evening. She had told Florence that she had sworn when she married that she would no longer be required to make an exhibit of herself and she would play for her own enjoyment alone. It had taken the promise of afternoon tea in the upstairs room of the Crown and Feathers to secure her cooperation.

“What shall we begin with, Miss Wakechild?” Mr Blake asked. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. She was wearing long gloves but could swear she felt the heat of his breath on each little hair on her arm. She suppressed a shiver of anticipation. Nothing that would require too much closeness, she decided.

“A polka? Or perhaps a Detroit, which is similar. Do you know that?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, but I’m your willing pupil,” he said, walking into the centre of the room. “I am in your capable hands for as long as is required.”

Cordelia shuffled her music sheets and gave a little cough. She caught Florence’s eye and winked. “I think I can manage something for the Detroit. You walk Mr Blake through the steps while I look.”

Florence faced him. His eyes rested on hers in a manner that made her feel quite disquiet.

“It’s a bit like a waltz in places, but slower and we parade around the perimeter of the room in a procession,” she explained. “We start by standing in the military position. You are on my left with your hand on my waist and mine on your shoulder.”

She paused as a little worm wiggled in her belly.

“Left foot forward, sway backward, foot back, sway forward. Three steps running forward, face your partner,pas de basque, side close, side close…” She held her hands out to an imaginary partner and demonstrated the steps to the end of the room, executed a turn, and came back to his side.

“Now you try. But as in a mirror.”

Blake had a very good stance. Back straight, shoulders relaxed, and light on his feet. He followed her instructions until he reached the end of the room. He gave a flourishing bow and all three of them laughed. Florence walked to him.

“Very good. Now I can teach you to put a turn in and then we can go back the other way together.”

He held his hand out. She slipped hers into it, palm facing downwards on his upturned one. Together they stepped through the dance and promenaded back up the room. They ended the dance facing each other, their bodies less than a foot apart. She curtseyed and he bowed.

“You’re a quick learner,” she murmured.

He inclined his head. “You’re a good teacher.”

“I found some music,” Cordelia called. “Shall I play for you?”

“What?” Florence dragged her attention from Mr Blake to her sister. For some reason, Cordelia was looking at Florence with a strange expression, eyes narrowed and an odd smile.

“Yes, thank you,” Florence said.

She and Mr Blake took up the starting position, danced the length of the room and back again twice, then stopped.

“I think that’s a very good start,” Florence said once she had caught her breath. “Shall we try another dance or are you too tired?”

“I’m far from tired; I feel invigorated,” Mr Blake said. “Lady Griggs, would you happen to have a Viennese waltz to hand?”

“A waltz?” It was a bit old-fashioned but a dance that Florence loved. One where she could glide across the floor feeling like she was floating without having to concentrate on what her feet were doing. It was very intimate though. There wasn’t as much space between their bodies as in the Boston. She glanced at Cordelia for guidance.

“It’s a perfectly respectable dance,” Cordelia said. “Even father has been known to dance it.”

“Every gentleman is expected to know how to waltz,” Mr Blake said. “I saw you dancing it with the elder Mr Van Hoon, don’t forget, so I know you can.”

That was true, but dancing with an old man was very different from dancing with Mr Blake who was young and handsome and very charming and who made her grow hot inside when he took her hand. Once she had some time to herself, she would have to examine why she was reluctant to dance with him when she was so very keen at the same time.

“One waltz and then I’ve promised Cordelia afternoon tea as payment for accompanying us.”

Cordelia opened a new piece of music and played through it rapidly. Florence recognised the tune immediately. It was one the girls had learned to play as children.

Mr Blake held his arms out. “Shall we dance, Miss Wakechild?”