"I confess myself amazed that you've never succumbed to the urge to cut a dash in the capital."
She turned her head and studied him; to her surprise, he wasn't teasing-his gaze was steady, his expression open-well, as open as it ever was. "I…" She considered, then shrugged. "I've never really thought of it. It's all so far away and unknown. Indeed"-she raised her brows-"I'm not even sure what 'cutting a dash' entails."
Demon grinned. "Being noticed by society due to one's dress, or exploits."
"Or conquests?"
His smile deepened. "That, too."
"Ah, well. That explains my disinterest, then. I'm not particularly interested in any of those things."
Demon couldn't restrain his smile. "A young lady uninterested in dresses and conquests-my dear, you'll break the matchmakers' hearts."
Her expression as she shrugged said she cared not a whit.
"But," he continued, "I'm surprised you don't like dancing-most ladies who enjoy riding also enjoy a turn about the dance floor."
She grimaced. "I haven't spent much time dancing. There aren't a lot of balls around here, you know."
"But there are the usual dances. I vaguely remember my great-aunt prodding me to attend, a few many years ago."
"Well, yes-there are dances and the odd ball as one might expect. We do get cards periodically. But the General is always so busy."
"Does he even see the cards?"
Flick glanced up, but she could read nothing in his very blue eyes. Still… she tilted her chin. "I deal with his correspondence. There's no point bothering him with such invitations-he's never attended such affairs."
"Hmm." Demon glanced at her face-what he could see beneath her golden halo. Without warning, he reached for her hand; stepping swiftly, he raised it and twirled her, unsurprised that, startled though she was, she reacted smoothly, graceful and surefooted, innately responsive.
He met her wide eyes as she slowed to a halt, her billowing skirts subsiding. "I really think," he murmured, lowering her hand, "that you'll enjoy dancing."
Flick hid a frown and wondered if that remark was intended to be cryptic. Before she could pursue it, the gong for lunch echoed over the lawn.
Demon offered his arm. "Shall we join the General?"
They did. Sitting at the dining table with the General to her right and Demon opposite was a familiar, comfortable situation. Flick relaxed; her nerves, in recent times slightly tense whenever Demon was near, eased. Chatting with her usual effervescence, she felt subtlely more in control.
Until the General laid down his fork and fixed her with a direct look. "Mrs. Pemberton called this morning."
"Oh?" Flick knew she had-that was why she'd taken refuge in the back parlor. But she was genuinely surprised that the General knew-she, Foggy and Jacobs had a long standing agreement to ensure the local matrons didn't bother him with their demands.
She scanned the room, but Jacobs had withdrawn. Had Mrs. Pemberton bullied her way past their defenses?
"Hmm," the General went on. "Seems she's giving a dance for the local young people. Us older folk are allowed to come and watch." He caught Flick's startled eye. "I rather think we should attend, don't you?"
Flick didn't-she foresaw all sorts of complications. Including the likelihood of the General learning just how many similar invitations he'd refused in recent times. She glanced at Demon, and was struck by inspiration. "I really don't have anything to wear."
The General chuckled. "I thought you might say that, so I had a word with Mrs. Fogarty-she tells me there's a very good dressmaker in the High Street. She'll go with you tomorrow and see about a dress."
"Oh." Flick blinked. The General was smiling at her, a hopeful question in his eyes. "Er… thank you."
Delighted, he patted her hand. "I'm quite looking forward to the outing-haven't been about in years, it seems. Used to enjoy it when Margery was alive. Now I'm too old to dance myself, I'm looking forward to sitting and watching you take to the floor."
Flick stared at him; guilt at having deprived him of innocent enjoyment for years tickled at her mind-but she couldn't quite believe it. He didn't like socializing-he'd given his opinion on the mesdames of the district, and their entertainments, often enough. She couldn't understand what had got into his head. "But…" She grabbed her last straw. "I don't know any of the local gentlemen well enough to stand up with them."
"Oh, you won't have to worry about that. Demon here has offered to accompany us-he'll stand up with you, teach you a few steps, and all that. Just what you need."
Flick didn't think so. Blank-faced, she looked at Demon. He met her gaze, the quality of the smile in his eyes stating louder than words that it was he who had got into the General's head.