Page 46 of My Fair Lord

She stepped into his arms. “I’d be delighted.”

As soon as they began, she knew this would be an experience unlike dancing with Mr Van Hoon or any other partners she’d had before. He guided her around the room, his arms reassuringly firm and his steps confident.

“Mr Blake, you continue to surprise me. You are a very good dancer. You’ve obviously done this before,” she said.

Mr Blake grinned. “Of course I have. I don’t know why you think I might not know how to dance. I’ve been in ballrooms and assembly rooms many times, even if only as an observer, but I’ve had occasion to dance.”

“Tell me some of the times you’ve danced,” Florence asked. “Do you dance for your own pleasure or because you needed to?”

He laughed; a rich, deep baritone. “One time I was asked to get close enough to the wife of a distinguished owner of a department store to discover if she was wearing the perfume given to her by her husband or by someone else entirely.”

“Do you mean she might have been wearing something given to her by a lover?” Florence asked. “What did you discover? How did you know which scent she should have been wearing?”

Her mind wriggled with ideas and she began letting her feet move instinctively, content to be guided as she speculated. “I suppose the husband must have…”

“Miss Wakechild, pardon my rudeness, but please allow me to stop you there.” Mr Blake gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She returned from her thoughts and looked back into his eyes. He had a playful grin on his face.

“As charming as it is to see your mind at work, this is one of the occasions when conversation should only be on frivolous subjects. Dancing is the perfect opportunity to get to know your partner a little more intimately. I believe that is the purpose of it. Two people, in relative privacy despite being surrounded on all sides.” He lowered his head, bringing his lips close to her ear.

“For example, may I dare to compliment you on your appearance this morning. You are breathtaking, Miss Wakechild. If we were at a ball, I would be the envy of every man attending.”

“Oh!” Infinitesimal flickers filled Florence’s belly, rising up and down inside her. She licked her lips. Should she return a compliment, rebuke him for being forward, or accept it? “I’m not sure that is appropriate at all, but thank you. That’s very kind of you to say, though I doubt it is the case.”

He sighed audibly and spun her around. “I get the feeling you don’t feel too comfortable at getting complimented. I’ll make it my business to think of a new one every day until you are able to brush them off with ease.”

Her cheeks began to grow hot; the warmth spreading across her face and down her neck. She would be blushing scarlet and he would know how much his words were affecting her.

“I think we know this dance well enough. We don’t need to practise any more. Cordelia, you can stop now.”

She stepped back out of his arms. Cordelia paused her playing and turned around on her stool.

“Are you sure?”

Mr Blake lowered his arms to his side. He glanced at Florence briefly, then gave a rueful smile. “If Miss Wakechild has decided, we are done. Thank you for your time, Lady Griggs.”

Cordelia shrugged and left the room. Mr Blake walked to the piano and began gathering the sheet music and placing it in the space beneath the stool.

“Miss Wakechild, I made you feel awkward. I apologise.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Florence sighed. “I am awkward at times, and as you say, I’m not used to compliments.”

“That is one of the greatest injustices of our age.” Mr Blake turned to her. “I meant every word I said.”

She tugged at her glove, pulling it over her elbow. It felt uncomfortably tight and she suddenly felt very foolish, wearing an evening dress in the middle of the morning. She was seized by the overwhelming urge to be out of it and dressed in a modest, comfortable skirt and blouse more suited to the morning.

“Goodbye, Mr Blake,” she muttered. She turned and fled before he had time to answer. She didn’t slow her pace until she reached her bedroom and caught sight of herself in the full-length looking glass. She did look attractive in the pale blue gown she had chosen, but hadn’t expected Mr Blake to notice. She summoned Dottie and while she waited for the maid to bring fresh clothes, she couldn’t help dancing around the room, waltzing with an imaginary partner. If Mr Blake hadn’t spoiled everything by trying to be nice, she could have danced with him all day long.

* * *

Three days later and with two more dance lessons completed, Florence gave Mr Blake a morning to himself while she caught up on writing her shamefully neglected journal and the sketch she was doing of the gardens. She was sitting in her bedroom, occupied with these tasks when Cordelia walked in.

“I have a letter from Father,” Cordelia said.

Florence joined her on the sofa. “He should be arriving in two days. You wouldn’t tell me if it was just making arrangements for his room or the menu. What’s wrong?”

“I think you better read yourself.” Cordelia held out the envelope. Florence had to control herself not to snatch it from her hand. She pulled out the folded sheet and held it up.

My dearest girls, business compels me to return immediately to Philadelphia. I will not trouble you with the intricacies.