Learning to Waltz by Kerryn Reid

for Julian— that was a debt she could never repay. But she would far rather be obliged to the squire than the doctor.
    She raised her eyes to his, forcing herself to sit straight and speak clearly. “I already owe you far too much, sir, but I find myself in another predicament. I have received the bill from Doctor Overley. It is—”
    “Yes, I was glad to hear he brought your boy through, ma’am. He is a fine physician, is he not?”
    Deborah doubted the doctor had much to do with Julian’s recovery, but she said, “Of course, sir. Nevertheless, his bill is higher than I expected, and far more than I can pay at one time.”
    The squire leaned forward in his chair, leaning his arms on the desk. “Overley is a generous man. I know he is accustomed to receiving payment in installments or in kind. Do you tell me he is unwilling to offer you such terms?”
    Deborah stared blindly at her hands, gripped tight together in her lap. Suddenly she felt hot. “The terms he offered I could not accept, sir.” She could not be any more specific and prayed he would not ask.
    “What are you saying?” He sat back in the chair, graying brows lowered over his frown. “I hope you’re not implying what I think you are.”
    Deborah opened up her reticule and pulled out a very thin roll of banknotes, which she set on the desk in front of her. Then she compressed her lips to keep them from trembling and met his eyes. He looked very severe. “I’ve brought the rent for January. I can promise you a quarter again of that amount until the loan is repaid.” It would take a year.
    After studying her for a long moment, he threw up his hands. “All right, all right. Don’t look so stricken. I can do nothing today, of course, but the funds should be in your hands tomorrow afternoon.”
    The relief was like an abrupt cure for a toothache. Her shoulders slumped with it. She let out the breath she’d been holding, and then drew in another, deep and relaxing. They both stood, and he shook her hand. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Moore. Be assured you will have no further trouble from Doctor Overley.”
    “Thank you, sir. And a merry Christmas to you and your family.”
    Deborah hurried outside. Her sweat cooled quickly while she waited for Mr. Haverfield’s carriage to be brought around, and she shivered.
    As Grady turned the horses away from the gargoyles and cherubs that adorned Reston Park, she wished she were walking instead. It might have soothed her nerves.
     
     
     

Chapter Eleven
    “Heavens, what a beautiful day,” Amanda said with a laugh, breathing hard as they trotted home alongside the Manor wall. Her hat hung down her back, and her hair was a tangle.
    “Of course you’d think so—you won,” complained her brother. “Sorry Lookout’s such a slug, Haverfield.”
    “Don’t be sorry. If you’d given me a faster horse, you’d have finished dead last.” Evan didn’t mind losing; it had been a good run.
    “You think so, eh? I think it’s my superior horsemanship.”
    The Manor gates stood at the junction of two lanes. As they rounded the corner, they were met by a racket of jangling harness and hoofbeats louder than their own. There was a screech from Amanda, a yell from Latimer, and a great deal of superior horsemanship from everyone involved.
    “Whoa!” shouted the coachman, hauling on the reins. Four big, strapping beasts plunged across the lane, coming to an angry halt an inch shy of the hedgerow opposite. The hapless postilion dragged himself out of the traces, white-faced, and staggered to the leader’s head.
    The Earl of Sudbury and his sisters had arrived.
    They weren’t supposed to come for a week yet. Evan scowled as the three riders preceded the carriage up the drive and dismounted to await the guests. This took a few minutes, while Sudbury’s coachman realigned his vehicle and drove sedately up to the house.
    Latimer’s face divided into two parts, above and below his grin. “I say, what a jolly surprise