Bonne lecture.

"No, Victor."

"Why not?" he protested, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "It wouldn't take very long, I promise! You're a remarkably quick learner—remember how soon you learnt to play Fur Elise?"

"Yes, I do, but—"

"So this can't be much more difficult! It is the same process, truly; learn the steps, practise a little, and there you have it!"

"There is a great deal of difference between fingers on an instrument and feet on a floor," said Victoria firmly. "Besides, if you are dancing with me, who would play the air? And where would we practise?"

"I could hum the air!" His eyes brightened in his enthusiasm. "As for where, we could do it right in here, in the parlour, if we moved aside the chairs and the table!"

"Oh, but Victor…" She cast about for another excuse. "Victor, I am already five months along. I am not exactly graceful."

He gave her a look. "Victoria, you're hardly showing at all. And you balanced four books on your head while coming down the staircase this morning to prove to Hannah how straight your spine is."

Victoria blushed. "But—well—I am used to that—Mother made me do that every day for a month to improve my posture—"

"And if we practise the waltz, then you'll be used to that as well," he pointed out.

She sighed. "I don't understand why this is so important."

"I've never danced with you," he said simply. "Of course, I've only ever danced with two people, so I suppose it isn't so terrible—but still. I would like to have danced with my own wife at least once."

"Who were the two people?"

"My dancing-master and…" He sighed. "And Mother. Don't laugh."

It was too late; he had to wait for her giggles to subside before he could continue.

"Will you?"

She sighed again. It was already evening and she was quite tired. But he looked so hopeful that she could not refuse him, and before she knew what she was about, she nodded.

"Ha!" He rose at once and began to pull his chair over to the wall. "Just give me a moment to move the furniture, and we'll begin."

"Right now?" she said, alarmed.

"Of course! When else?"

"Oh…tomorrow, perhaps, or…" Never.

"Never?" he finished, giving her another look.

She reddened. "You know me far too well." She rose as well and started to push her chair to the opposite wall. Victor rushed over.

"No, no, no!" he cried worriedly. "No, you just sit down—er—" The purpose of her pushing the chair occurred to him, and he looked round. "Actually, just stand by the fireplace."

"Victor, I am perfectly capable of pushing a chair," she said, a little exasperated. "Do calm down."

"Well—you alone may be capable, but you and our baby are not. So go stand by the fireplace."

She obeyed, more amused than irritated. Within a few minutes he had all the furniture moved, and he returned to her side, bowing deeply.

"Why, m'lady," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, "I did not realise that such lovely women would be attending this ball."

She swallowed a giggle and curtsied. "Why yes, my good sir. What other sort could attend a ball? Of course, I in turn did not know there would be such gallant gentlemen."

To his credit he remained straight-faced. "Might I know the name of such a charming young lady?"

"Miss Everglot, sir."

"Your Christian name, m'lady."

Victoria put a hand to her cheek. "Such familiarity, sir! I hardly know you! What would your mother say?"

"Reel 'er in, Victor," he said promptly, in a remarkably close imitation of Nell's squawk.

For a moment she came dangerously close to breaking character; she recovered quickly and said, "Such greedy mamas we have this season, do we not?"

"Terribly," he said. "But enough of mamas, I think. Shall we dance, Miss Everglot?"

"I confess I do not know how, sir."

"Do not know how!" he exclaimed, with mock horror. "What a travesty! A young lady of the ton, not know how to dance? My dear Miss Everglot, we must remedy this situation at once!"

He redoubled his clasp on her hand and drew her towards the centre of the room. "Do you hear the waltz, Miss Everglot?"

Victoria tilted her head. "I am afraid I cannot quite make it out, sir."

He hummed a little. "There?"

"Yes, sir, it is most lively." She smiled up at him. "Shall you teach me to dance to it?"

"It would be quite rude of me not to," he answered, and for the next few moments they were Victor and Victoria again as he instructed her on where to place her feet and how to follow his lead. She was, as he had mentioned, a quick learner, and soon could match him as he hummed the air.

"Good," he said, then returned to his game as they danced around the parlour to imaginary music. "My dear Miss Everglot, you are far too modest in saying you cannot dance!"

"I believe it is you who are in excess," she said, a little slowly as she counted off the steps in her head. "Excess praise, that is."

"Miss Everglot!" he cried, outraged. "Are you accusing me of exaggeration?"

"Perhaps just a little."

"I shall have you know, Miss Everglot, that I have never danced with such an elegant young lady in my—ow!"

She blushed as he winced and shook out his foot. "I'm so sorry! I told you I would be awful!"

"This is the first time you've stepped on my foot in a half-hour, Victoria," he said pointedly. "When I danced with Mother she stepped on my foot about a half-dozen times in as many minutes. Besides, I hardly felt it."

"That's why you stopped in mid-sentence, yes?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "You are acquiring a rather sharp sense of humour."

"I haven't acquired it. I always had it. I just never gave it a voice until I married you."

"So I alone must suffer the cruelties from your lips!"

"Only the cruelties?" she asked, a little mischievously.

There was a short pause, in which Victor demonstrated that he suffered much more than cruelties from her lips.

"I am most appalled at your conduct, sir," said Victoria after a moment or two, when they resumed their waltz. "To take such liberties with a woman you have only just met!"

"My dear Miss Everglot, such a loss of morals could only be expected of a person confronted with your radiant personage."

She could not resist a laugh at that. "I might add, sir, that I am already married."

"No!"

"Yes, indeed, though my husband is most odious. He is decades my senior, you know, and hardly pays me any attention at all."

"Such a waste," he said sadly, holding her close. She very nearly stepped on his foot again and narrowly avoided it by gently pulling at his sleeve. "Such youth and beauty, wasted on an ungrateful old man." He halted by the window and cupped her face. "Shall you be rid of him, my dear?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"We may run away together," he said, struck by the romanticism of the idea. "To Italy, perhaps, or France! No one would find us there!"

Oh, this was too much. She would burst into laughter at any moment; but she saw a familiar softness in his gaze, and felt her cheeks grow warm instead.

"How far is France, sir?"

"Not at all far," he said, almost whispering. "Upstairs and to the left, in fact."

Good heavens. "I am not the only one acquiring a sharp sense of humour," she said unsteadily. "Besides, sir, I thought you were teaching me to dance."

"I am," he said, taking her hand again and gently pulling her towards the parlour door. "And I still am. There are several kinds of dances, you know."

"Victor!"