as always, was strikingly lovely. John’s gaze slid over her appreciatively and came to rest on the girl beside her. He drew in a long breath at the magical transformation.
A vision in white and silver, her dark gold hair released from its braids and coiling in shining ringlets to her slender shoulders, Rebecca smiled at him. Their eyes met. No longer a frightened waif, she was timid still, but expectant, hopeful. She was beautiful.
Chapter 9
“You would not believe, John, the trouble I had persuading Rebecca to come tonight,” said Teresa, laughing. “She would have it that it was not her place as a governess to be dancing the night away. I managed to persuade her not to leave me to face a ballroom full of strangers without her support.”
Rebecca blushed. She had not only allowed herself to be persuaded to attend the ball, she had accepted as a gift the delightful confection of white satin and silver net she was wearing. Her hair, freed from its severe plaits, was dressed in careless-seeming ringlets.
“Of course you came,” John murmured.
Shyly she raised her eyes to his face. He was smiling at her in manifest approval. She smiled back, glad she had given in.
“Will madam deign grant me the first waltz?” He performed an elaborately fanciful bow, to her, not to Teresa as she had expected. “Andrew, there will be a waltz, will there not?”
“Oh yes, I believe so. The starchier Russians still disapprove but the foreign colony would not turn out for less, I collect. You’ll save a waltz for me, won’t you, darling?”
“Of course,” agreed Teresa promptly. “And I expect John to do his duty by standing up with me too. You will not find any English country dances here of course, John, though there may be a quadrille and a cotillion. I made enquiries so as to be prepared. The popular dances are mazurkas, which are Polish, and what they call anglaises and écossaises, neither of which I believe would be recognized by the English or the Scottish. Rebecca and I have been practising all week.”
“As have I not, so I must be excused from sporting a toe with any but you and Rebecca, which suits me well enough.”
They moved on into the ballroom. Andrew went about his duties but John stayed with them, chatting about their impressions of St Petersburg. Teresa voiced her approval of the shops on the Nevski Prospekt, admitting ruefully that they had seen little else.
The orchestra began to play, and several couples took to the floor.
“John, you must introduce me to your feya .” A tall, thin Russian had materialized at John’s elbow.
“Fairy, or sprite,” Rebecca interpreted, involuntarily relapsing into her rôle of tutor before she realized the stranger was referring to her. She felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.
“Allow me to present Prince Nikolai Mikhailovich Volkov, A.D.C. to his Imperial Majesty. Dash it, Kolya, I don’t even know your present rank.”
“Polkovnik. This is colonel, mesdames.” The prince kissed Rebecca’s hand, to her confusion, and bowed gallantly to Teresa.
“My cousin, Lady Graylin,” John completed the introductions with Teresa first in formal order of precedence. “And this is Miss Rebecca Nuthall, who is cousin to my sister-in-law. Beware of Kolya, Rebecca. He is used to sweeping the ladies off their feet.”
“You understand feya , Miss Nuthall. You speak Russian?”
“My grandmother was Russian,” Rebecca confessed shyly. She liked the look of his merry face and the twinkle in his slanted eyes.
Asking about her grandmother, he quickly put her at her ease. He wrote his name down on her dance card for an écossaise, then proposed introducing her to his family.
“They will welcome any relative of Lord John,” he assured her.
“I am only a very distant relation, and a connexion by marriage besides.” Rebecca wanted to tell him that she was a governess and hired
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