Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell

Josephine’s hair for her and wrapped it at the nape of her neck, leaving a few tendrils loose as she pulled them forward to frame her face. “No, my dear. That’s not what I was referring to,” she said as she fastened a tortoise-shell comb into the back of her chignon. “Do you like to dance?”
    Josephine sighed as heat crept into her cheeks. Her mother had been a wonderful dancer, and she’d spent many evenings watching her parents dance around the parlor. Her father had tried to teach her, but she hadn’t done well at it. He’d stopped after she’d stepped on his feet a number of times, and she’d always been ashamed that she couldn’t share that with him.
    “No, I’ve tried, but I’m afraid I’m a little clumsy at it.”
    “Oh, goodness. Then Pierre will have his hands full this evening,” she said, laughing as she reached for the dress laid out on the bed.
    Josephine swallowed as a lump formed in her throat. Surely, after all of the food, silverware and clothes she was to learn about, dancing could not be added. It was impossible--she’d tried.
    “What do you mean? Please tell me that’s not something I need to learn. I can’t,” Josephine said as she watched Bernadette pick up and brush smooth the skirts of the dress she’d chosen.
    Bernadette sighed as she gazed at the dress. “This is a perfect choice. It’s lovely,” she said, crossing over to Josephine. “Yes, Vivienne loved to dance, and she taught Pierre. They enjoyed spinning around the room after supper most nights, and his father joined them regularly. Something they did as a family.”
    Her stomach dropped at the thought of adding the shame of stepping on Pierre’s feet to dropping her spoon and almost fainting when she’d learned what she’d eaten.
    She caught Bernadette’s eye in the mirror, her eyes pleading. “Bernadette, I can’t. I’ve tried. I’ll do anything else but that.”
    Bernadette rested her hand on Josephine’s shoulder. “My dear, are you feeling all right? You feel warm to me,” she said as she moved her hand to Josephine’s forehead. Her touch felt cool, but aside from shivering a bit in the bathtub--which was to be expected--she felt fine.
    “Aside from being terrified about dancing, I believe I’m all right.”
    Bernadette pulled Josephine up and took the dress off its hanger. “There is nothing to be terrified about, my dear. I’m sure Pierre will be a good teacher.” She unbuttoned the back of the dress and held it out for Josephine. “He is your future husband, after all.”
    Josephine winced at the words. Her future pretend husband, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue, stopping the words before they sprang out. She smiled at Bernadette as she reached her arms into the soft, warm velvet dress and turned for Bernadette to hook the buttons.
    “There’s no telling that I’ll be able to do this well enough that we ever will get married,” she said, her heart tugging as she looked around the room and ran her hands down the smooth velvet of her bodice. No, she still had more to learn, more to prove. And if she stepped on Pierre’s feet too many times, she might lose this all in the blink of an eye. And he’d lose the one thing he truly loved. The plantation.

Chapter Nineteen
    P ierre’s chest tightened as he folded his napkin and set it on his empty plate. He stood and pulled Josephine’s chair back, offering her his arm as she stood. As she placed her delicate hand through and placed her hand on his wrist, he blinked hard as the warmth of her hand made his tingle.
    He hadn’t noticed when they’d sat down to supper--one that included no French delicacies--but as they walked around the mahogany dining room table, the candles flickering as they passed, he inhaled the scent of--what was it? Magnolias? Vanilla? It was oddly familiar but he couldn’t remember smelling it before.
    As he reached to open the heavy, walnut door for her he laughed at the memory of her expression when he