Lyonel groaned. "I thought you said you weren't from a backwater barracks?"
"Those were your ill-natured words! I was simply never interested in such things, and besides," she added, striving for a bit of honesty, "there was no one about to teach me."
"Now, now," said Lucia. "What is the time, Lyonel?"
"Just past eight o'clock."
"We have time, then. Didier!"
"Yes, my lady," said Didier but an instant later.
"To the music room. Lord Saint Leven will instruct Miss Savarol on the finer points of the waltz."
"Why the waltz, Lucia? She must have permission to dance it from a patroness."
"Sally wi
ll give her permission, you will see," said Lucia. "Besides, the country dances and the cotillion are too complicated for her to learn in a half an hour. Thank goodness that the waltz has finally been accepted."
When they walked into the small music room, Didier was already seated at the pianoforte, playing scales, looking every bit as distinguished as the leonine Beethoven.
Lucia seated herself in a comfortable wing chair and waved her hand at the two of them.
"Well, Miss Savarol, shall we?" Lyonel said, giving her a slight bow.
"Shall we what? I don't know what to do."
"First of all, you have to come closer and pretend to like it when I hold you. Now, you hear that Didier has broken into song with a strong three beats. So you will count, one, two, three, one, two , three, emphasis on the first beat, and follow my lead."
Lyonel kept a respectable full foot between them. She was taller than he'd first thought, and it occurred to him that he didn't at all care for tall, bosomy women. Charlotte had been petite, coming only to his shoulder, her figure slight, her eyes a deep chocolate brown, not a gray green. Funny color, as if nature couldn't make up its mind. He pulled himself up short. In all honesty, he didn't like any sort of woman at the present. He counted aloud as he gently led her about. She was a natural dancer, he thought some moments later, grudgingly.
"That's it, don't falter, and don't step on my foot. Ouch!"
"Sorry," Diana said, her eyes on her own feet.
He whirled her about at that instant, and she fell against him. He felt a tingling of sheer lust and quickly eased her away from him. As for Diana, she was too embarrassed at her clumsiness to notice anything at all.
"Pay attention," he said, his voice sharp. That damned bosom of hers would drive the gentlemen mad.
Her eyes turned more gray and he realized he'd hurt her feelings. "You're doing fine. Just keep counting, but under your breath. Once you have permission to waltz, I'll claim the first two, then you're on your own."
"So gracious, my lord!"
"Yes, I agree."
Didier played three more waltzes, and toward the end of the third one, Diana had managed to look up at Lyonel at least part of the time.
"Once you get used to it, you will be able to converse with your partner. It is expected, you know."
"It feels odd to be close to a man," she said, more to herself than to him.
Close? You're a good foot away from me."
"Considering you're a lion, a foot doesn't seem to be all that much."
He grinned over her head. "Shall I take that as a compliment?"
"It was just an observation. I do think this entire exercise is a bit improper. Why, even my father has never held me like this!"