A Scandalous Situation. Patricia Frances Rowell
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woman present, apparently the duty of pouring tea remained hers. “Who will drink tea?”
She glanced around the room as, one by one, all the men but Vijaya declined in favor of ale. After pouring two cups and passing one to the prince, Iantha leaned back and sipped her own. Remarkable. She rolled the unfamiliar flavor over her tongue. Smoky and exotic. If only she might include the flavor in her painting!
Feller drew his bow across the strings, and after two exploratory chords, launched into a familiar tune. At the end of a second tune, Iantha reached for another cup of tea.
“Do you enjoy the tea, madam? It is my own blend.”
Iantha regarded the Indian with surprise. He had been so quiet she had almost forgotten him. “I like it very much, your highness. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“My pleasure. It is herbal in nature, designed to relax one. As I do not drink alcohol, I find it useful.” He extended his own cup, and Iantha took it and refilled it.
At her other side Lord Duncan sipped his ale and kept time with a toe tapping against the carpet. He smiled at her, but addressed his factotum. “Come, Burnside, give us a jig.”
“I don’t know, me lord.” The man grinned with an obviously spurious show of reluctance. “It’s been a while since I danced for a lady.”
“Oh, please do, Burnside.” Iantha leaned forward in her chair. “I would love to see a jig performed.” The adventure improved by the minute. What a story to tell her baby sister! And perhaps also… Yes, she must make notes tomorrow.
Burnside grinned and, setting his tankard aside, got to his feet. “Well. I guess I could do it for you, Miss Kethley. But someone has got to keep time.”
His lordship laughed. “We will all furnish that. Get to it.”
Feller stuck up the tune, and Burnside set his lean frame in motion, defying gravity with his agility. Lord Duncan and Thursby began to clap, and Iantha could not resist joining them. Music moved her as very little could do, but most of the musical occasions she attended were all too dignified in nature to clap time. She laughed aloud at Burnside’s antics, and even the reserved Vijaya rapped rhythmic fingers against the table, smiling.
The music rose to a rousing finish, and Burnside bowed to his appreciative audience, wiping sweat from his brow. He nodded at his employer. “Your turn, me lord.”
“Mine?” His lordship took a long draft of ale. “I can’t keep up with you.”
“Ha! That will be the day. But no need to. I’m plumb used up.” Burnside fanned his face with his hand.
“Well, if Miss Kethley will take into account my advanced years…” Lord Duncan set his ale on the floor by his chair and stepped to the center of the room, his thumbs hooked into his belt and his foot already beating a cadence.
He proved to be amazingly light on his feet. Iantha would never have thought so large a man could move so fast. As the speed of the music increased, his booted feet almost blurred, and the muscles of his thighs rippled beneath the tight buckskin trousers. The rest of them clapped harder and harder. At last, on a resounding chord, he flung up his hands and shouted, coming to a complete stop.
Iantha began to applaud. Surely he must be the only peer of the English realm who would dance with such abandon. He bowed to her and took a seat beside her, breathing hard. “Thank you, Miss Kethley. Your approval makes my efforts worthwhile.”
“Your advanced years, indeed! I have never seen anyone dance like that, my lord. Where did you learn?”
“Here, of course, before I left for India. I used to love to go to the village dances.”
“Similar dances exist among the older tribes of my country.” Vijaya surprised Iantha by speaking. “But I have never learned them.”
“A pity.” His lordship took a restorative swallow of ale. “We would have had you up to demonstrate.”
Vijaya simply shook his head and smiled.
“Then we shall have to fall back on Thursby. I’m told you do an excellent sword dance, Thursby.”
The youth’s fair-skinned face flamed. “Tolerable, me lord.”
“Then by all means, let us see it. We will forgive you your Scots forebears.”
“And I’ll forgive you your English ones, me lord.”
Amidst hoots of laughter and approval from the party, Lord Duncan went to the wall and removed two very old swords. He laid them in a cross in the middle of the floor.
“Perhaps in these close quarters we should dispense with the sword exercises. When you are ready, Thursby.”
Still blushing, young Thursby walked to the swords, and Feller started a Highland tune. The group watched in breathless attention as the young man’s feet flew around, between and over the blades, missing by a hairbreadth, but never touching them. He finished in good order, and this time everyone applauded in earnest.
“Thursby has joined us since we returned from India,” his lordship explained.
“But Feller and Burnside went with you?”
“Aye. They have been with me since I was a lad.” He turned the full force of his smile on her. “It is your turn. Will you honor me with a country dance?”
Alarm filled Iantha. “Oh! Oh, no. I couldn’t. I have not danced since…in several years.”
“But there are only us country fellows here tonight. A misstep will never be recognized.”
Iantha shook her head firmly. “No, my lord. I couldn’t.”
His lordship sighed loudly. “Now what’s to be done? Will you force me to dance with Burnside?”
In spite of the moment of panic, a laugh burst from Iantha. “I have no doubt that you will do it, my lord.”
Shaking his head sadly, Lord Duncan rose and bowed to his henchman. With a simper, Burnside curtsied. A whoop of laughter burst from Thursby, and Iantha giggled. Even Vijaya chuckled. Feller began a Cumberland reel and the two men set about the steps of the dance, much tripping and tangling of feet contradicting their previous adroit performance. After several minutes Burnside made an awkward turn and sprawled on the floor.
He got up, rubbing his injured member, and grinning, appealed to Iantha. “Miss Kethley, you just naturally got to do it. I ain’t cut out for to do this part.”
Iantha’s eyebrows rose. “What a fudge! Burnside, I fear the truth is not in you.”
“He makes a poor partner, I must attest.” His lordship knelt on one knee before Iantha’s chair. “Come, Miss Kethley. Rescue me from this humiliation.”
She could not help laughing aloud. “Like master, like man! My lord, you are as sly as he is.”
He extended a hand. Before she had time to think, Iantha placed hers in it and found herself drawn to her feet. “But, my lord.” The protest escaped even as he led her to the floor. “We cannot do a Ninepins Reel with only one couple.”
“We will improvise, Miss Kethley.” And improvise they did. It proved to be a most original version of the reel. Lord Duncan guided Iantha from position to position with no more than the lightest clasp of his fingertips on hers. Caught up in the laughter and buffoonery, she discovered that she had relaxed and was truly enjoying the first set she had danced in six years.
Not until the last strains of the music sounded did he catch her around the waist for a final spin. By then she had lost her breath from laughing, and he released her so quickly that she barely glimpsed the triumphant gleam in his eye.
The moment she awakened the next morning, Iantha sprang out of bed and ran to the window. To her great relief the sun poured through the casement, and she saw not a cloud in the sky. She hastened to the breakfast table