Page 13 of The Duke's Sister's Absolutely Excellent Engagement (The Notorious Briarwoods Book 11)

C ould life get any better?

Margery did not think so. Marriage to Nestor was perfection. If she did not have other needs, she would have spent day after day in bed with him, rolling about in linen sheets, learning every bit of him as he learned her.

Luckily, she could do that already for a great deal of the day. But she and Nestor were both energetic people and needed entertainment and exercise. Exercise that was upright.

Her cheeks burned with excitement, thinking of how much exercise of the other kind they had engaged in during the last days.

No doubt, they would soon engage in it again, for he was insatiable! As was she. At long last, Margery felt beautiful. Really and truly beautiful, with Nestor.

But now? It was time! Her most longed for wish as a child was at last coming to fruition.

Her ballet tutor had arrived. Monsieur Georges strode into the salon as morning light spun through it. The chairs and tables and chaise longue had all been moved back earlier in the morning so that they would have adequate space.

The ballet instructor was dressed unlike any gentleman of the ton! He wore bright, elaborate colors, as if Beau Brummell had never been born, and his hair was curled as if he thought Lord Byron had the right of it. He strode with firm, well-shaped legs as if the world belonged to him, and he had no apologies to be made. Ever.

A thrill went down Margery’s spine at the sight of him. She was ready to finally dance.

“Ah, my lady,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms out, the gesture somehow elegant and enthusiastic at once. “It is my pleasure to teach you. I have been selected by the dowager duchess to show you the art of ballet because apparently ballet is your dream.”

“It is,” she rushed, all of her usual reticence disappearing under his sunny and grand disposition. “I saw a performance when I was a child, and I was captivated by it. I think everyone should learn ballet.”

His brows rose as if he had just discovered a rare find. “You are clearly a very wise lady and a connoisseur of fine art. Louis XIV adored ballet and unlike here in England, in France, over the last century, ballet became its own revered art form, loved for its sake alone and not just as a part of operas.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she gushed. “I hope to see more of that!”

He gave her an elaborate bow then, his fingers nearly scraping the ornately woven carpet. “You are a lady after my heart. Now let us see how you move.”

“Room for a few more?” a voice called from the doorway before Nestor strode into the salon. Followed by what felt like an army of young men, though it was only his three cousins.

“Ah, my lord, bien sur!” exclaimed Monsieur Georges. “Your grand-mère did not tell me that you and your cousins were going to take part.”

“What?” she breathed, quite surprised but not appalled. Still, she didn’t quite understand what was taking place. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you wish me to go?” Nestor asked, hesitating, looking unsure for a moment.

Maximus, Calchas, and Octavian stopped behind him, all surprisingly with bated breath as if awaiting a verdict. Could they stay or must they go?

All of them were dressed in long linen trousers and open white shirts.

“You wish to learn?” she asked, surprised.

“Whatever is important to you,” he breathed, “is important to me.”

Tears stung her eyes. For it was so very different than all those years ago. What was important to her, as a child, had been ripped from her.

Now, not only was it hers, but her husband wished to be a part of it too.

“You must stay, of course! How could you all miss such a chance?” she said firmly.

Monsieur Georges looked very pleased indeed. “What grand men who understand that movement is power, like Louis XIV, the Sun King, who was an excellent ballet dancer himself.”

“Exactly,” Nestor exclaimed, clapping his hands together as his face lit with confidence. He teased, “These brutes here need a bit more instruction with dancing than I do.”

“Brutes, you say?” Maximus demanded. “I have an excellent ankle.”

And Maximus presented his powerful leg with surprising skill.

Nestor rolled his eyes. “Yes, Maximus, we all know your name suits. You are the greatest at everything.”

“Glad you can acknowledge it, old boy,” Maximus said.

“You shall soon see, Monsieur Georges, that my wife is an incredible dancer,” Nestor continued. “You will not need to do much with her.”

“That’s not true,” she protested. “Ballet is a unique and special art form. It should take me much time to learn it.”

Monsieur Georges gave her a grand bow again, twirling his wrist. “I already adore you, my lady,” he said. “You are complimenting me and yet you are humble. How can I not admire such a thing? Do you truly think we should allow these gentlemen to participate?” The dance master arched a warning brow. “I do not think they are here to make fun.”

Maximus let out a bleat of horror. “Never. If we came here to make fun, my grandmother would tie me to a tree, pour honey on me, and then unleash one of the bears that is kept by Lord Pankhurst.”

Monsieur Georges blinked. “An interesting proposition, my lord. Yes, the dowager duchess is known to be quite a woman. Glad to know that there will be severe consequences for you if you step out of line.”

Calchas groaned. “It’s true, but we are actually here because we want to be. You see, perhaps you don’t realize this entirely yet, Margery, but we all actually love the theater and performing and dancing. We’re just not quite as good at dancing as you. So, we thought we’d take the opportunity with Monsieur Georges here too.”

“To add to our repertoire, as it were,” put in Octavian.

She let out a laugh. “How could I deny you? You are all my dear cousins, and of course my dear husband’s, and I should like to see you all galloping about.”

“Good,” Monsieur Georges exclaimed, then clapped his hands firmly. “We shall waste no more time. All of you come.”

And then a little figure peeped around the doorframe. “May I join?”

“Cymbeline?” Margery asked, beaming at the young lady. She rarely saw this cousin, for she was often doing her own interpretive work with theater pieces. “Of course you must.”

And suddenly Margery’s heart all but burst with happiness because long ago, when she’d been a little girl, she would’ve dearly loved her mother to hire a ballet instructor. And now she could share it with Cymbeline, who was about sixteen years old and would have her own Season soon.

Cymbeline rushed forward in her beautiful, light pink gown, her hair tumbling down her back. “Thank you,” she exclaimed. “Besides, you need another lady in here. You’re surrounded.”

“It’s true,” Margery returned. “Thank you for being my ally. We shall have to be very careful indeed with all these gents about.”

“I say,” Calchas retorted with faux offense.

Octavian tsked. “As if we could ever mean you all any harm.”

“I’m not afraid of you meaning harm,” said Margery.

“No,” Cymbeline said. “But you are a bunch of boys, and you’ll likely act like fools, except for you, of course, monsieur.”

Monsieur Georges placed his hand over his heart. “Ma petite, I much appreciate you coming here to protect me and your darling Lady Margery from these big men.”

And with that, he clapped his hands together again, as if bringing a room of unruly school children to order. “Now, in a line, please, tout de suite.”

They all got into line without question.

“Do you call that a line?” Monsieur Georges protested, gesturing up and down. “And two of you are military men and one of you is a naval man! That is not a line. That is some sort of strange wavy abhorrence.”

They quickly corrected themselves into a line that garnered a nod of approval.

Clearing her throat, she found herself terribly excited by Monsieur Georges’ directness.

She had never had this sort of opportunity before. Her dancing masters had been good, but none of them had been like this. None of them had been full of enthusiasm and passion for what they did. No, they were likely doing it because it was the only way they could earn a wage. Whereas it was clear to her that Monsieur Georges was in love with ballet and very excited to pass that love on. Though he looked as if he was expecting them all to be very terrible indeed.

“Now, my students,” he began, “we will warm up our limbs. We shall walk about the room in a circle so that we are limber.”

“But we’ve just got in a line,” Calchas pointed out.

Monsieur pursed his lips. “Ah, you are intelligent, monsieur. I’m so glad you can tell that you are in a line, but you can go from a line to a circle, can you not?”

Octavian fought a grin. “You really set yourself up for that one, Calchas.”

Calchas looked chastened.

“Madame Margery, please take us around the room,” Monsieur Georges instructed.

And with that, Margery did.

“Ah, magnifique,” Monsieur gushed. “You can all walk. How marvelous. If you can walk, I am not so afraid about your dancing abilities, and none of you are walking with odd gaits or bad posture. This is very good. Now come back into line.”

Once they had done so, slowly, carefully, he began teaching them how to stand in correct form.

“In ballet, it is incredibly important that we turn our feet out from our hips. This has been long thought important in ballet, since before the time of Louis XIV. Now you will stand like this.”

And she did exactly as he showed her.

Then, with each passing movement, she learned another piece and another piece and she quickly realized how difficult it was going to be. But she was thrilled from the top of her head to the tips of her turned-out toes because this was something she’d never been allowed to have.

She sneaked a glance at Nestor, who was struggling with his balance, but Nestor sneaked a glance at her and smiled.

“Are you happy?” he mouthed.

She lifted her brows and then she replied, “I’ve never been happier.”

“Of course not,” Monsieur Georges called. “Because you are with me. And Lord Huxton too! The way he looks at madame? Parfait!”

She blushed.

Monsieur Georges walked between them, contemplating the two of them as though they were doing a step, and he observed, “The viscount is a marvelous man, and you are a marvelous lady. All of London should be like you.”

“Like us?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Monsieur Georges said sincerely. “Open to joy.”

Joy. That was true. That’s exactly what was happening. She was full of joy.

And then Monsieur Georges took them through a few more simple steps. “Bravo, bravo, ladies, gentlemen, you are not a bunch of mules. It is very exciting for me to see. Your priorities are heartening.”

Octavian waggled his brows. “Monsieur Georges, I think it is incredibly important for a gentleman to know how to move. One can’t make the ladies happy if one doesn’t know how to move.”

Monsieur Georges let out a sigh that sounded quite approving. “Mon Dieu! Alas, for women, there are few gentlemen who understand that. But I can see now that my talent will not be wasted in this room. We shall have a great deal of fun together. Shall we put on a performance at Twelfth Night? The country house of the duke would be most suitable, non?”

“Twelfth Night?” she yelped.

Monsieur Georges shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you have engaged me to come to teach you to dance every day.”

“That’s true,” she admitted, even as her stomach coiled with nerves. “Let us do it.”

“Shall we do it in conjunction with a Shakespeare play?” Calchas asked. “We all do love a play.”

The ballet master groaned a bit. “We must always work in the theater, I suppose,” he said.

“Is the theater so very terrible, monsieur?” Cymbeline asked, batting her lashes, perplexed, for she loved plays very, very much.

“No, ma petite,” Monsieur Georges assured kindly. “It’s just ballet, in this country, has been in the shadow of theater for so long. But I know this family. They love Shakespeare, don’t they? So of course we shall make the world merry with dance and theater. It’s dark enough out there sometimes, non?”

Margery was astonished to hear this last part spoken by the dance instructor, but he was right. The world was quite dark, and as she danced these steps with her new teacher and her husband, who wanted her to be happy, and her cousins, who seemed to delight in being with each other, she felt a moment of trepidation.

She felt as if they were standing in a golden moment like that last light that bathes one right before night falls, and a shudder traveled through her.

She was wrong. She swallowed and shook her head. She had to be. She took her stance again, ready to dance some more, ready to pretend as if night would never fall.