Waltzing With the Wallflower Read Online Free PDF

mediocre social standing. Lady Trowbridge’s excitement was understandable. Even Cordelia was duly impressed… that is, she would have been, if she wasn’t so overwhelmed by the day’s instruction from Lord Hawthorne.
    So many things to remember! Deciphering the fan signals alone was enough to keep her mind swimming for days. What if she got confused and told someone he could approach her when what she meant to say was she just wanted to share a greeting? The proper etiquette, proper posture, proper topics of conversation. Cordelia was dizzy as she walked through the doors, and her stomach churned within her.
    She scanned the room for Lord Hawthorne the moment she entered, but he was nowhere to be found. Traitor.
    Many guests had already arrived, and everyone seemed to be staring at her. Her aunt and uncle strode away from her to greet their friends, leaving her standing alone without a thought for her fears. Her breath caught in her throat, and before she knew what she was doing, she gravitated toward the corner were the plants were, trying desperately to shrink into the background. So much for a friend to offer his support.
    Her hands trembled against her will as she reached into her reticule to withdraw her fan. Focusing her attention fully on her task, praying silently the night would end soon. A suave tenor voice interrupted her phylacteries. “Find what you’re looking for, my lady?” Her head jerked up with a start.
    “Good evening, Lady Cordelia.” Sir Wilde stood beside her with an odd smirk spread across his face.
    “Sir Wilde,” she greeted him and swallowed back her nervousness. Lord Hawthorne had instructed her on the fine art of conversation, how to smile but remain aloof, how to feign interest. Every bit of his direction flew right out of her mind in that moment and the fear paralyzed her.
    “How are you this evening?” he asked his eyes focused intently on her.
    “Fine, thank you.”
    “How do you find Almack’s?”
    “It’s lovely.” He stared at her for a moment, as if he expected her to elaborate. She searched her mind for something else to say. Anything else to say. But it was blank. Her tongue felt like sand in her mouth. She could feel the blush burning her eyes, face threatening to give away her mortification, so she looked down at her reticule.
    “Would you like some lemonade, Lady Cordelia?” he finally asked. She nodded. He offered his arm. Taking it, she thanked God she was able to manage to walk in a straight line as he led her to the opposite end of the large assembly hall. "I want to give you fair warning. The lemonade is watered down and by the time you drink it, I fear, very warm indeed, but it should ease some of your nerves." Sir Wilde gave her a blinding smile then reached for two cups of the liquid.
    Shaking, she took the cup in her hand and ventured a long sip. In horror, she realized it was ready to come back up the instant she swallowed the vile contents.
    "What is this?" she sputtered without thought.
    Sir Wilde laughed, drawing more attention than she would have liked, before answering, "In my defense I did give you fair warning, did I not?"
    She smiled. "I suppose so."
    Sir Wilde grinned from ear to ear. "I believe it is that time, my lady."
    "What time?" she asked, confused and still lamenting over the fact that her taste buds would never again be the same.
    "Time to dance and set tongues to wagging. After you, my dear."
    She could hardly say no. His manners, even his way of speaking, put her completely at ease. Unlike Hawthorne, there was nothing smooth or calculating about his presence. In fact, she imagined he would make a great ally if it was possible for her to speak at least once in his presence.
    He led her to the floor for a quadrille and grinned when she managed a small smile.
    People glanced their way, but all in all, no outrageous staring occurred. Finally at ease, she was able to enjoy the dancing for what it was. Simple dancing, meant to be fun