24 PREPARING FOR THE SEASON

"Because that one was considered to be a good marriage," the Countess said over her shoulder.

Annie took a breath, knowing that she had not really touched on any of the things she longed to ask. And one of them was, of course, why her guardian was yet unmarried. Considering the uncharacteristic abruptness of Elizabeth's answers, however, this might not be the best time to ask that particular question.

*~*~*~*

Annie had thought she was quite alone in the enormous ballroom. And then, just as she made what she hoped was a fairly graceful turn, she noticed her guardian leaning at his ease against the wall beside the enormous pocket doors. He had been watching her, and she had no idea how long he had been there.

"Please don't let me interrupt," Ian said. "I am enjoying the performance, but I shall leave if you prefer to be alone."

She had stopped her pantomime as soon as she'd spotted him, hot blood rushing into her cheeks. "it's your ballroom," she said. "If anyone should leave, it would be I."

"Actually, it's my brother's ballroom. I don't believe I have even been in it for several years. I'd almost forgotten it was here until I heard you singing."

"That must have been an unpleasant experience."

He laughed, not bothering to comment on her self-deprecation. "Practising your steps?" he asked.

Annie had never danced before in company and certainly not any of the courtly dances which she would soon be expected to perform proficiently. When Elizabeth discovered that appalling situation, she had ordered a series of private lessons.

In a little less than half an hour the dancing master who had been hired to add the needed polish would arrive. Annie had come to the ballroom to prepare for that dreaded lesson, since Elizabeth's comments this morning on her progress—or rather on her lack of it—had been less than encouraging.

It was hard to believe someone who could shinny up a tree as rapidly as any boy and do sums in her head faster than Mrs Kemp herself couldn't master the steps to a few dances. That seemed to be the case, however, and Annie was determined to overcome that failure, especially since she would be expected to perform flawlessly in only a few days.

"Elizabeth has sent for a dancing master," she confessed.

"I see," Ian said, controlling his lips, which seemed to have a tendency to tilt upward at the corners.

"I have no wish to humiliate myself any more than Is absolutely necessary, however, so I came early to practice. Do you suppose if I threw myself on his mercy, he might tell Elizabeth that lessons are quite useless and that she must leave me alone before I succumb to a debilitating fit of vapours?"

"I think it unlikely," Ian said, finally giving in and allowing the grin he had been fighting.

A very attractive grin, Annie thought. Less kind than his smile, perhaps, but it seemed to put them on a more equal footing, like fellow conspirators.

"Unlikely she'll leave me alone?" she questioned. "Or unlikely he will tell her that?"

"Very unlikely that you would succumb to vapours. Anyone who can face down a highwayman can certainly endure being led through the steps of a few dances."

"Would you care to guess which I should prefer?"

"It's not so bad as that," he said.

He was obviously amused by her distress, which she found herself exaggerating to keep him entertained. To keep him here?

"You," she said, her tone almost accusatory, "probably mastered these steps when you were a child."

He didn't bother to deny it. "Do you think I could help?" he offered instead.

"Do you mean you'd be willing to practice with me?"

Despite the fact that he was undoubtedly being avuncular again, there was a distinct and by now familiar flutter in the region of her heart at the thought.

"Speaking of unpleasant experiences," Ian said, with a laugh. "Should I try to dance, you would certainly have one, I'm afraid. I told you I haven't been in a ballroom in years. And certainly not of late."

Because of his limp. Disappointment settled in her chest, exactly where that brief surge of anticipation had been only seconds before. She didn't really want him to watch her stumble over her own feet today, she supposed, but she had thought he might dance with her at least once during the coming Season. After she had mastered the art. Actually, she realized she had been counting on it. She had envisaged her guardian leading her, graceful and poised, onto the floor at her first ball. Another romantic fantasy destroyed by reality, which seemed to be happening rather too frequently of late. But then she was to prone to fantasy. That was certainly what Mrs Kemp would have said. And probably what Elizabeth would say as well.