Page 38 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride
“Did Mrs. Robson put you to work in the kitchens to earn your keep?”
“I asked her to give me an occupation.” She seemed to suddenly remember she was supposed to be angry with him. “Not that it’s any concern of yours how I spend my time.”
Subtly, he pushed the larger portion of roast goose towards her. She was still too thin. “Tell me about your aunt in Bath.”
She brightened. “Aunt Nelson is my mother’s half-sister. Or cousin. I cannot quite recall what the relation is. But she has always been very kind to both Pippa and myself and we often spent time with her and her companion in Bath.”
“Her companion?”
Penny forked up another mouthful of roast goose. “Yes, Mademoiselle d’Arnault. They have lived together for years and years now and are very close. They even share a room, like sisters.”
Hugo’s fork paused over his own food, and he looked into Penny’s bright, innocent face. Today was not the day for him to explain what a “Bath marriage” was and how some ladies preferred the company of other ladies.
“And you feel confident they will take you in?”
“Oh, I have always been Aunt Nelson’s favorite.”
“Despite the incident with her lapdog?”
Penny laughed. “Did I mention that? I scarcely remember.”
“It was while you were drunk.” Hugo took a sip of his small beer and tried to forget how yielding she had been in his arms while he had guided her up the stairs that night.
A squawk rang through the room, and Hugo turned to see young Henry Robson standing on a bench with a fiddle and bow in his hands. He grinned at the crowd.
“Dancing begins shortly. Sort yourselves into men and ladies. Unless,” he said with an awkward bow towards Penny, “you are already a lady, of course.”
Penny watched with a puzzled expression as the men lined up, some of them tying a handkerchief to their arm while others stood opposite them. “What are they doing?”
“When you have a company that is mostly men and want to have dancing, some of them have to take the lady’s part. It would be impossible to have a room full of men all trying to lead an invisible partner.”
“You have seen this done before?”
“Frequently, especially aboard ship. Women are few and far between on a man o’ war.”
Penny eyed him shrewdly. “But not absent entirely?”
Before he could decide how to answer, Henry struck up a song whilst another young man—likely one of the mummers from the previous night—raced to stand next to him, a flute in his hand adding to the tune. The dancers moved in the familiar figures as Penny watched in fascination.
As the first song ended with a flourish, Penny said wistfully, “I haven’t danced since… since I became ill.”
"Then it's time to make some new memories, don't you think?"
Hugo stood and held out his hand with a courtly bow. She allowed him to help her up, curtsied in return, and followed his lead onto the taproom floor, to the cheers of the men already there.
The two musicians began a lively air, and the dance began.
Of course Penny was light as a feather in his arms. Of course she moved with him as though they had been born to dance together. Of course she treated all of the men with the same cheerful courtesy that she would have any aristocrats she danced with. Penny had no snobbery at all, for all she had been meant to be a duchess.
Of course she had flaws—a legion of them—but he could not recall a single one as she laughed in delight whilst they danced.
Penny had only seen Hugo dance a few times before. She had forgotten how skilled he was. He guided her through figures she only half-remembered as the fiddler called them out, her steps gaining confidence as her body recalled the movements, reminding her how free she had always felt when she danced.
As she danced, her joints loosened, moving more fluidly with the exercise. She knew she must not overdo or she would be in agony again in the morning, but... that was the morning. Hugo was dancing with her now.
She would worry about the consequences later.
As the tune ended, Hugo turned to her, mischief in his eyes. “Do you know how to dance the waltz?”
