“It would seem I haven’t much of a choice.”

He smiled wickedly, sending a shock of excitement through her. “Capital.”

Fourteen

No! No! Non! Miss Juliana, ladies should be all daintiness while dancing! You are meeting my gaze altogether too often!”

As the dance master spoke, his affront clear as day, Callie turned toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the impressive Ralston House gardens and hid her smile. The small, effete Frenchman was Juliana’s least favorite teacher despite being one of the finest dancing masters in England; the two had very different opinions on the importance of dancing in the life of a young woman, and Callie had a sneaking suspicion that young Miss Fiori enjoyed irritating him.

“Apologies, Monsieur Latuffe,” Juliana said, her tone indicating absolutely no remorse. “I was merely trying to ensure that I knew your whereabouts—and did not tread upon your toes.”

The dance master’s eyes widened. “Miss Juliana! Neither do young ladies presume to discuss toe treading. If such a horrible thing should occur, I assure you that your partner will not notice. For, ladies, when dancing, should be light as air.”

Juliana’s laugh was rife with disbelief, sending Latuffe into a fit of sputtering hysterics. Callie covered her mouth to keep her own laughter from spilling out—thereby ruining her image as an impartial bystander.

Callie had been overseeing the lesson from a settee on the far end of the ballroom for the better part of an hour, but as Juliana and Monsieur Latuffe had progressed through the steps of several country dances, a quadrille, and now a minuet, the patience of both parties had worn thin, and Callie was finding herself unable to hide her amusement at their bickering. Affixing what she hoped was a neutral expression upon her face, she turned back to Juliana and Latuffe.

The Frenchman was stalking across the bare floor, arms flailing, toward the pianoforte, where the pianist who had been hired for the afternoon’s lessons was looking more than a little uncertain. Placing one hand to his heart and the other on the edge of the piano, Latuffe made a show of taking several deep, calming breaths between harried French muttering. One side of Callie’s mouth twitched as she almost certainly heard him take the names of the Island of Great Britain, Italian females, and the quadrille in vain. She had to admit to a modicum of surprise at the last—Juliana must be quite a trial if he was ready to give up his faith in dance.

Approaching Juliana, Callie met the younger woman’s blue eyes, which were immediately rolled in exasperation. Flashing a grin, Callie whispered, “You’ve only another twenty minutes. Do attempt to suffer through.”

Juliana spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m doing this for you, you realize.”

Callie squeezed the younger woman’s arm, and said, “A fact for which I shall be forever grateful.”

Juliana snickered as the dance master turned abruptly. “It is no matter,” he said, firmly. “We shall move on to the waltz. Surely, even a young lady such as you must respect the waltz.”

Juliana’s eyes widened. She looked at Callie, and whispered, “A young lady such as I?”

It was Callie’s turn to snicker as the Frenchman swept a surprised Juliana into his arms and, in an act that belied his diminutive size, whirled her across the ballroom floor to a rousing tune. Callie smiled genially at the obviously relieved pianist and watched as the pair swayed and turned with the music. As they danced, Latuffe kept up his litany of do’s and don’ts—Juliana was chastised in quick succession for having too firm a grip, too rigid a form, and, finally, too wild a look in her eye. Callie had a rather firm suspicion that the wild look would be less of an issue once the younger woman was out of her dance master’s grasp.

Callie couldn’t help the wide grin that had settled on her face, especially when Juliana looked her instructor square in the eye and stomped quite deliberately upon his foot. I rather expect that belied the theory that young ladies are light as air while dancing.

“Is it I, or is my sister requiring her exorbitantly expensive dancing instructor to earn every shilling?” The words, spoken at a close proximity, surprised Callie, and she whirled toward the sound to discover Nicholas St. John standing nearby, his amused attention focused on Juliana.

Callie ignored the burst of emotion in her chest, unwilling to define it as either disappointment or relief that this was the St. John who had made an appearance that afternoon. Instead, she offered Nick a bright smile, and said, “I think that given the opportunity, your sister would enjoy roundly trouncing Monsieur Latuffe.”

Nick watched silently for a long moment, during which Juliana and her dance master had rousing words about the appropriateness of young ladies smiling at other gentlemen—even her brothers—while waltzing. Turning back to Callie, Nick said, “Yes, well, I’m not entirely certain I would reprimand her for doing so.”

Callie laughed. “Between us, I’m rather tempted to allow her free rein.”

“Retribution for past dance masters?”

“That…and the supreme enjoyment of the circus that would almost certainly ensue.”

Nick raised one brow. “Why, Lady Calpurnia. I confess, I hadn’t pegged you for such a wicked sense of humor.”

“No. No! Non!” The explosion of negativity from the far end of the room interrupted Nick and Callie’s banter, causing them to share an amused look as the dance master blustered. “It is the gentleman who leads the young lady. I am the gentleman. You follow! You are merely a leaf in the wind!”