“Is this enough room for us, do you think? You need lots of room to waltz.” He hummed a jaunty tune in a rich baritone, speaking words interspersed between the notes. “And we’re off. Start with your left foot forward, dear, proceeding in a one-two-three rhythm.”
“One-two-three rhythm?” she echoed, gripping his shoulder.
“That’s right, Jane. Just follow me.”
*
Townsend watched with a half-smile as his father patiently explained the steps to Jane again. And again. He would not be so mean as to say she had two left feet…but she was not a talented dancer. However, what she lacked in natural grace she made up for with plain determination.
“Show me again,” she said whenever she muddled things. “I know I’ll get it. I want to dance well at Felicity’s ball.”
His mother joined Townsend on the divan, taking the place vacated by his wife.
“Jane is simply a treasure,” she said. “Thank goodness you married her.”
He studied her features for any hint of sarcasm or dissemblance, but that was not his mother’s way. Of course she liked Jane. Despite the fact she was not his first choice of wife, she was a warm, excellent hostess, and a steady enough woman to carry on the family line. Even if her waltzing was…oh, quite terrible.
“Don’t give up, dear girl,” his mother called. “It’s not as difficult as it seems.”
Jane smiled at them, gripping his father’s hand as he demonstrated the one-two-three footwork very slowly for her.
“I never realized Father had talent as a dance instructor,” he said quietly.
“Nor did I.” His mother turned back to him, patting his hand. “She does seem happy, Edward. I trust the marriage is going well?”
“Yes. I enjoy her. Everything has sorted out, I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
Jane gave a small cry of delight as she managed a set of steps without barging into his father.
“Goodness, she is a quick learner,” the duke called out to them.
“Indeed she is,” Townsend answered, trying not to think about sex in front of his parents. “Very quick indeed.”
When he turned back to his mother, she was gazing at him searchingly.
“What is it?” he said. “Out with it. What is it you want to ask me?”
She shook her head and forced a smile. “Oh, nothing to ask. I’m only a bit worried about Felicity’s ball.”
“Why should you worry? You’ve never had a ball or party that was remotely unsuccessful, not that I can remember.”
“I’m worried about you, Edward.” Her gaze fluttered from his. “You know we’ve been close friends to the Arlingtons since before Felicity was born. I cannot hold this grand ball and not invite them and their children. All their children, including Lord Wescott and his wife.”
He took in a breath, guarding his expression. “In that case, don’t invite Jane’s family, especially his sister. They won’t wish to see him after the way he jilted June.”
“Jane’s family will be invited, of course, and will have the option to decline. You will not. You must be there for your older sister and her husband…and accept that Wescott and Ophelia might be there too.”
Townsend despised Wescott, and he didn’t much wish to see Ophelia, not when his heart was still conflicted. He thought of her too often for a married man, and seeing her after all this time would rip open that wound again. Seeing her on Wescott’s arm would flay it raw.
“In fact, it is probable they will attend,” his mother went on. “The Arlingtons believe this rift between you has gone on long enough, and your father and I agree.”
“You talk about us?”
“Parents always talk about their children, particularly when they’ve been friends since boyhood and then abruptly stop speaking because one disapproved of the other’s marriage.”
“I didn’t merely disapprove.” He sputtered at the inaccuracy of the word. “Wescott behaved abominably. He ruined her.”
“He married her. She was not ruined.” His mother made a motion for him to calm down. His father continued waltzing with Jane, humming as they swirled around the cleared space. “Wescott has owned up to what he did and made it right with his wife and her family. When will you forgive him?”
“Never.”
His mother’s lips grew tight. “Have you owned up to what you did to Jane?”
“Owned up to…what?”
“You proposed to her only to get back at Wescott. You’re not blameless in your conduct.”
“That was nothing compared to what Wescott did, and Jane does not need to know.”
“Doesn’t she?”
They fell silent, forcing smiles as his father and Jane danced within earshot of their testy conversation. Jane grinned over at him with a saucy toss of her head.
“Look, Edward! It’s not that difficult now I’ve got the hang of it.”
“You’re doing wonderfully, sweeting.”
He and his mother waited until they waltzed out of earshot, and he summoned the courage to turn to her again.
“I’ve been a good husband to her,” he said. “I don’t need her to know why our betrothal happened. I only need to fulfill my husbandly duties to the best of my abilities going forward, and I have been. We’re getting on very well.”