“Why does food always taste so much more appetizing out of doors?” Angeline asked.
The question led to a lively discussion.
“All I know,” Mrs. Lynd said to end it, “is that you are quite right, Lady Angeline, and it must be the reason why most of our eating is done indoors. We would all weigh a ton in no time at all otherwise.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone appeared to be having a wonderful time. Angeline looked happily about her and glanced at Lord Heyward. He was smiling at his sister. This, she thought, was the happiest night of her life.
And then the orchestra, which had been playing quietly all evening, struck up a more lively tune to signal the beginning of the dancing.
They played a waltz tune, and Angeline gazed wistfully on as Tresham led Cousin Belinda onto the floor, and Cousin Leonard followed with Lady Heyward, Mr. Lynd with Rosalie, and Ferdinand with Lady Overmyer. Angeline had been granted permission to waltz at Almack’s within the past week and could now officially dance it anywhere. And it was the most divine dance ever invented. Dancing it in the outdoors would surely be simply … heavenly.
“Well, Edward,” Mrs. Lynd said, “it would be too lowering for you to waltz with your sister. You must dance with Lady Angeline instead, then, and I shall twist Christopher’s arm and he will waltz with me. A certain amount of exercise is good when one is out of doors, I have heard. It fills the lungs with good, clean air and counteracts the effects of stale air breathed in when one sits in a box doing nothing. And it aids the digestion.”
She winked at her brother as Lord Overmyer got to his feet.
“I was about to ask you anyway, Alma,” he said. “You are looking very fine this evening.”
“Why, thank you,” she said as he led her away. “Flattery will win you a dancing partner any evening of the week.”
Lord Heyward was also on his feet, and for one moment Angeline was assailed by an almost irresistible longing. But only for a moment.
“Oh,” she said, “you look like a drowning man who has been up for air twice and is about to descend for the third and final time. I shall save your life. I do not wish to waltz.”
He sat down again.
“I do know the steps,” he assured her.
“I know all the keys on a pianoforte and every note on a sheet of music,” she told him. “But somewhere between my eyes and my head at the one extreme and my fingers on the other, the message gets lost. Or scrambled anyway. I was the despair of my governesses. It seems I can never ever be a proper lady if I am not an accomplished musician.”
“You are kind,” he said.
“And you can never be a proper gentleman,” she said, “because when you dance your legs turn to wood.”
“It is that noticeable?” he asked. “But it must be. You feigned a sprained ankle rather than have to continue dancing with me at your come-out ball.”
“I turned my ankle,” she said, “to save you from the embarrassment of having to dance on. But you danced with other partners afterward, and so my sacrifice was in vain. Can there be anything more romantic than the waltz, do you suppose? Unless it is a waltz beneath the stars and colored lamps?”
Cousin Leonard and the Countess of Heyward were gazing into each other’s eyes as they danced. They were probably quite unaware of anyone else around them—or even of the stars and lamps.
A waltzing couple must always maintain a proper distance from each other even though their hands must touch throughout and indeed the gentleman must keep one hand on the lady’s waist and she must keep one hand on his shoulder. Those hands must never move after being properly placed, even by as much as half an inch.
Angeline could hear the rules listed in the severe voice of Miss Pratt, who had taught her the waltz even though she very strongly disapproved of it.
There was not even a sliver of air between Tresham and Lady Eagan as they waltzed. And not only his hand was resting on her waist. His whole arm was. Her hand was not on his shoulder at all, but against the back of his neck. There were only a few slivers of air between their faces.
Angeline sighed inwardly and fanned her face. And she wondered if Tresham had accepted his invitation only because Cousin Belinda was to be here. Was it possible that he had seen her since Rosalie’s wedding?
“Romantic?” Lord Heyward said in answer to her question. “It is just a dance.”
She looked at him sidelong.
“Do you not believe in romance, Lord Heyward?” she asked.
He hesitated.
“I believe in love,” he said, “and commitment and affection and fidelity and … comfort. I believe in happy marital relationships. I know a few, though not as many as I could wish. But romance? It sounds altogether too giddy to me, the sort of thing that leads people into falling in love, whatever that means, and acting without considered judgment and often ensuring an unhappy life for themselves trapped in a lifelong connection that quickly reveals romance and falling in love to be just a sad illusion. I have known a few of those connections.”
Oh, dear.
Angeline fanned her face again.
“Perhaps,” she said, “it is possible to be happy and in love, Lord Heyward. Perhaps romance can lead to love and affection and commitment and … What else did you list? Ah, yes, and to comfort. In a rare case. Do you not think?”
“I have no evidence of that,” he said. “But I suppose it is human nature to wish that you were right. To hope that you are right. It is perhaps wiser always to try to think and speak and act with good sense and judgment.”
“But wishes, hopes, and dreams are what give us the will and the courage to go on,” she said. “I would not want to go on without dreams.”
He was looking directly at her, she found when she turned her head toward him, having just witnessed Tresham for the merest moment denying even those few slivers of air space between his face and Belinda’s.
“Dreams can only lead one astray and cause ultimate despair, Lady Angeline,” he said. “But you are young. You have just made your debut into society, and the whole of a possibly glittering future is ahead of you. I would not wish to deny you your dreams. But have a care. They can be dashed in one impulsive moment.”
Oh, she thought as she gazed into his eyes, what had he dreamed? And what had happened to dash those dreams? He spoke as though he were not young.
But he believed in love. And she had seen that it was true. He loved his family.
He just did not believe in romantic love. How foolish of him.
She smiled brightly at him.
“I will not force you to waltz, Lord Heyward,” she said, “but I will sigh and look thoroughly forlorn if you do not at least offer to take me walking. We are in the loveliest place in the whole wide world, and I have scarcely seen any of it.”
He got to his feet again and offered his arm.
“Neither have I,” he said. “This is my first visit here too.”
“Then we will explore together,” she said, rising and taking his arm and glancing Rosalie’s way. Over Mr. Lynd’s shoulder, Rosalie met her glance and nodded her approval. Mrs. Lynd was also smiling their way.
Tresham was whispering something in Cousin Belinda’s ear. At least, Angeline assumed he was whispering. He would not need to speak aloud when his mouth was one inch away from her ear.
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT was entirely his fault, Edward admitted to himself later. He acted with uncharacteristic impulsiveness, and he reaped the consequences.