Page 34 of An Alleged Rogue

The older lady began again. Adam took Emily’s hand, and as Miss Hadford counted out the beats, he led Emily through the beginning movements. When they came to the pas d’allemende, Emily passed under his arm and turned the wrong way, careening directly into the cherry end table. Miss Hadford stopped counting, and Miss Glover played a series of incorrect notes before halting her playing completely.

“Forgive me,” Miss Glover said. “I believe I am too tired to continue.”

“You have been invaluable, Miss Glover,” Miss Hadford said.

The older lady did not respond. Neither did she look at Miss Hadford. With a sniff, she stepped away from the pianoforte and went to pick up her carpetbag. Adam frowned. Miss Glover could be cantankerous at times, but she was rarely impolite.

“Are you quite well, Miss Glover?” he asked.

“It is nothing some rest will not cure, my lord.”

“Then, by all means, spend the remainder of the afternoon in your rooms.”

She nodded. “I believe I shall. Thank you, my lord.”

Miss Glover walked out of the room, and Adam waited for Miss Hadford to comment on his disrespectful employee.

Instead, she turned to Emily. “You were doing so well before the table came to be in the way.”

“You are too kind. I believe it would be more correct to say that I came to be in the way of the table.” Emily sighed. “Reading has taught me that I learn best when I can see whatever it is I am studying. I wish I could visualize the allemande being performed correctly.”

“If Miss Hadford is willing, perhaps we can demonstrate for you,” Adam said.

Emily perked up immediately. “That would make all the difference. Will you, Phoebe? I can play for you.”

“But how will you watch if you are playing?” Miss Hadford said.

Emily grinned. “I practice the pianoforte far more than Miss Glover does, so even if I miss a note because I am looking up, I imagine it will sound more melodious than her renditions.”

“What do you say, Miss Hadford?” Adam extended his arm toward her. “It appears that we have a pianist.”

The color in Miss Hadford’s cheeks deepened. “I would be honored, my lord.” She curtsied, and then without meeting his eyes, she placed her hand in his.

Instantly, his pulse quickened. But before he could wonder at the unnerving power of Miss Hadford’s touch, Emily struck the opening chord on the pianoforte and the lady shifted to take her position at his side.

Miraculously, over the feel of her hand in his and the scent of roses that accompanied her every move, he remembered the dance. Somehow, he led and turned, stepped and pivoted at all the correct times. And then, before he knew what had happened, Emily was playing the last note. Miss Hadford dropped into another deeper curtsy, and he bowed. He was still holding her hand, and as she rose to stand before him, he finally dared look into her eyes. His own confusion was mirrored there.

“That was marvelous.” Behind him, he heard the pianoforte bench shift as Emily pushed it away from the instrument. “I had no idea the allemande could appear so elegant and effortless.”

“I believe that was largely Miss Hadford’s doing,” he said.

“Not at all.” Miss Hadford slid her hand free and took a step back. “Your brother is an excellent dancer. A few more times practicing with him and you shall be a true proficient.” She took another step, increasing the distance between them.

Out in the hall, the longcase clock chimed the hour, and Miss Hadford started.

“It is late. I . . . I should go,” she said.

“So soon?” Emily said. “But I am far from mastering the dance.”

Miss Hadford continued backing toward the door. “It will come. You understand the rudiments now. Lord Dunsbourne can help with the finer details.”

“Very well.” Emily was obviously disappointed; Adam scarcely knew what he was feeling.

Acknowledging Emily’s disheartened air with a troubled look, Miss Hadford quickly retraced her steps across the room and took her hands. “You can do this, Emily. I know you can. If your brother is willing, will you come to Charwell Park an hour or two before the ball? I promised that Lucy would do your hair for your next social event, and I intend to keep my word. If you have any lingering questions about the allemande then, we will address every one before you step onto the dance floor at Banbury Hall.”

Emily looked to Adam. He shifted uneasily. During his time in London, he had witnessed more than his fair share of cattiness among the young ladies of the ton, but this—this show of unaffected kindness—was new to him. Was Miss Hadford genuine in her warm regard for Emily? Did he dare encourage their friendship, even if it meant Emily may end up hurt by it? He was well aware that his faith in the good intentions of others was severely lacking, but he was beginning to wonder if his wariness had cut him off from valuable positive interactions in the name of protecting him from negative ones.

“Should you like that, Emily?” he asked.