Page 46 of The Indigo Heiress

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So agreeable and innocent an amusement.

George Washington on dancing

Loveday opened the ball with Leith, foregoing the usual minuet and dancing a country dance before partnering with Euan then Niall. Juliet watched breathlessly as her sister performed admirably, for that was what this was—a performance by an American, an outlander. Loveday’s new chalked shoes prevented her from slipping on the polished floor, her steps faultless even with every eye upon her. Niall seemed the perfect partner.

“Your brother is accomplished,” Juliet said to Leith behind her extended fan.

“He had an Aberdeen-born dancing master.” His wince had her anticipating his next words. “I didna.”

“You slight yourself. I think you even enjoy it.”

His mocking half smile told her otherwise, but when the music changed, he gave a little bow that not only disarmed but charmed her. “Will you step a quadrille, Mrs. Buchanan?”

Her brow lifted. Her duty as hostess was to look after her guests and make sure the ladies had partners, or so she’d recently read in The Art of British Society . “’Tis not customary for a married couple to dance together, only courting couples.”

“Court etiquette, mayhap. Not Glaswegian society.” He took her gloved left hand in his right. “Besides, when you wed hurriedly, you court after.”

His low words, the look he gave her, sent a little thrill through her. Who was she to argue? It was his house. His rules. But courting?

“It’s a foregone conclusion, ye ken,” he said during the set. “My brother and your sister.”

She spied Loveday again, clearly enjoying herself. Niall had yet to leave her side. “But it seems so sudden.”

“I’ll wager they’ll be married by Michaelmas.”

She spun away from him, then stepped close again. “Is he worthy of her?”

He seemed to give this some thought, waiting till the next turn to say, “Of the three of us, Niall is the most amiable. And the most malleable.”

Their hands joined as they came together in a carefully orchestrated turn. When his shoe buckle caught on the embroidered rose of her slipper and left her shoeless, laughter rippled over the ballroom. At least it hadn’t happened to Loveday. Mortified, Juliet watched as Leith deftly retrieved the missing item and returned it to her foot, much to the amusement of all watching, themselves included. A little humor never hurt, she decided.

Loveday sent her a joyous glance as she promenaded with Niall before he handed her to another gentlemen, albeit reluctantly, Juliet thought.

“Would you care for refreshments?” Leith asked over the music. “Far safer. You’ll likely lose nae shoes.”

Still flushing, she let him lead her to the adjoining room that seemed more garden, overflowing with flowers from city hothouses. Just beyond was an endlessly long table set for a midnight supper, after which dancing would resume till dawn.

“Is anything the matter?” he asked her quietly as footmen buzzed about them carrying silver trays.

“This extravagance...”

He met her eyes. “There’s nae end to it.”

“Your pockets?”

“Aye.”

“Then let’s do something different. Something that outlasts this night.”

“Meaning our guests will go home, forget about what they ate and drank or who they danced with, then move on to the next fête, where they’ll do it all over again without a single thought for anyone else.”

“Yes.” She took the punch he gave her, the glass chill in her hand. Though she’d not been here long, the city’s dark wynds and closes heaped with refuse and misery blackened her thoughts.

He said nothing more, just looked over the fragrant, candlelit chamber as if seeing it with new eyes. Or so she hoped.

She took a breath. “I shall do this for Loveday tonight, but I shan’t do it for myself or anyone else.”