by S. G. Rogers
Forced into confirming the lie, Belle nodded and smiled. I can’t seem to free myself from my web of deceit!
“What’s it like to be related to royalty?” Eva asked.
A slight fog of panic descended. “I…well, I’m not sure how best to answer that,” Belle began.
Fortunately, the waiter arrived to pass out menus, and further conversation was suspended. Belle took her menu and pretended to be absorbed in it.
“Mr. Stenger and the Egermann sisters are part of a large and very wealthy brewing family,” Louise whispered. “The matriarch, Mrs. Anna Stenger, is sitting at the captain’s table too.”
“Your new friends seem very amiable,” Belle said.
“Yes they are. We entered the dining room together by chance, and Stacy invited Stephen and me to join her family for dinner.”
“If we had one more boy, we could form a square,” murmured Belle.
“What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking out loud. I promised to teach Wesley to dance during the voyage. We can work out the waltz and polka together, but for the group dances we must have four couples.”
Eva leaned forward. “I couldn’t help but overhear, Miss Oakhurst. Did you say something about a dance?”
“I was just telling Louise that between all of us at this table and the Duke of Mansbury, we nearly have enough for a square,” Belle said.
“We’re only shy one gentleman,” Carl said.
“This is marvelous!” Stacy’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Grandmama’s friends have invited us to all sorts of parties and balls during our European tour, but we desperately need to practice.”
“The three of us are hopeless at that sort of thing, especially Carl,” Eva said.
Carl’s smile turned sheepish. “I ducked out of dance class every chance I got. Mother was vexed with me, but I didn’t think I’d ever really need to dance.”
“I can certainly use the practice,” Stephen said. “Surely we can find another gentleman who’d like to join in?”
“There’s a piano in the drawing room. We can practice there,” Louise said.
“We should form a dance club,” Belle said.
Stacy clapped her hands in delight. “I was wondering what we were going to do for fun on this ship, particularly since I don’t know much about cards.”
Conversation for the rest of the meal revolved around drafting a pianist, which dances they were to learn, when practices could be scheduled, and who could serve as the extra gentleman.
“Let’s do pick someone good-looking,” Eva said.
“That’s silly,” Stacy said. “What does it matter what he looks like as long as he can dance?”
“There’s always Horatio,” Carl said.
Stacy groaned and Eva closed her eyes.
“Who is Horatio?” Belle asked.
“He’s my nephew,” Carl said. “And he’s a fine lad.”
“Horatio is our younger brother,” Stacy said, exchanging a pained glance with Eva.
“He’s fourteen and an insufferable blatherskite,” Eva said.
“That’s unfair, Eva,” Carl said. “Horatio can’t help that he’s smarter than everyone else. And I must point out that he attends dance class without fail. He’d be an asset to our endeavor.”
“Where is he now?” Belle asked.
Stacy snickered. “He annoyed us on the train from Chicago, so we banished him to the children’s dining hall for the duration of the voyage.”
“We did no such thing, Stacy,” Carl said. “That was you and Eva. I say we let him out of purgatory and allow him to join the group.”
Stacy, Eva, and Carl began to argue again. Belle was secretly pleased; as long as those three bickered, they didn’t have time to ask her anything about her grandfather.
As flattering as it was for Wesley to be invited to the captain’s table that evening, he was apprehensive. With his limited experiences, what could he possibly add to the general conversation? Shortly after Captain Howe introduced him, however, he became the center of attention. The way in which Wesley had inherited his title was the topic of much discussion.
“An American duke? How terribly interesting,” Mrs. Stenger remarked. “You must meet my youngest son Carl, my nieces Stacy and Eva, and my nephew Horatio. We’re touring Europe together.”
“I look forward to it, ma’am,” he said.
His poise and manners were praised, and he made a mental note to thank Belle for her tutelage. The remainder of the dinner was quite congenial. Best of all, one of the English gentlemen, Mr. Francis Ley, broached the topic of sports.
“Tell me, Your Grace, have you any enthusiasm for baseball?”
“Yes, Mr. Ley,” Wesley replied. “Sadly, I’ll miss the World’s Championship Series this year.”
“That’s unfortunate. There’s a pitcher for the Cleveland Spiders who recently pitched a three-hit shutout in his major league debut—”
“Cyclone Young!” Wesley exclaimed. “They say he destroys stadium fences with his fastball.”
“That’s the very one! I’m a fanatic for baseball, personally.” Mr. Ley smoothed his thick white mustache with a thumb and forefinger while giving Wesley an appraising glance. “You may be interested to learn that I’m building sports grounds for workers at my foundry in Derby. The central feature is a baseball stadium.”
“I didn’t realize anyone played baseball in England.”
“It’s not widespread as of yet, but perhaps between the two of us we can change that. You’re quite welcome to attend a ballgame when you are next in Derby. Indeed, we’ll have you throw out the first pitch.”
Wesley beamed. “Why thank you, Mr. Ley. That’s very hospitable of you.”
When dessert was finished, the guests began to filter away from the table. Mr. Ley shook Wesley’s hand. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Your Grace. Say, would you fancy a game of chess?”
“I’d be delighted! I know for a fact there’s a set in the library.”
“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
After dinner, Belle lingered in the saloon to wait for Wesley. She’d sent her new friends on ahead to the drawing room, with a promise to bring Wesley with her to the inaugural dance club meeting. Wesley finally left the captain’s table, spotted her, and hastened over.
“I just had the most splendid meal,” he said. “Everyone I met at dinner was very amiable, and thanks to you my manners drew compliments.”
“I’m so glad, Wesley. Mr. Van Eyck, Louise and I made friends too, and they’re waiting for us in the drawing room. We’ve formed a dance club!”
“I can’t go just now. I promised to play chess with Mr. Ley. We’ve a lot in common, he and I.”
Wesley’s face shone with eager anticipation. Belle covered her disappointment with a smile. “Oh…that sounds wonderful, Wesley.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll just go on ahead then. Perhaps you can join us later?”
“Absolutely.”
Crestfallen, Belle watched Wesley leave the saloon without a backward glance.
Chapter Eleven
Dance Club
THE EARLIER PITCHING AND ROLLING of the ship had finally given way to a gentle rocking motion by the time Belle entered the drawing room. The skylights overhead were dark, but in ten hours or so the space would be flooded with sparkling sunshine. The windows that afforded an ocean view during the day were at night covered by sliding mirrored panels that lent the room a festive atmosphere. Red velvet ottomans lined the walls, and a pretty bay window looked out over the saloon.
Stacy was playing a waltz at the upright piano angled in one corner. In the center of the spacious, carpeted room, Eva and a slender young man were moving awkwardly together in a semblance of dancing. As Belle watched, Carl came to stand next to her. “That’s my nephew, Horatio,” he whispered.
“Eva, I feel like I’m pulling you around like a sack of potatoes!” Horatio exclaimed as the music c
ame to an end. “Keep your weight over your toes and remember to rise and fall.”
Louise noticed Belle just then, glancing expectantly from her to the door and back again. “Hang on, where’s Wesley?”
“He had a prior engagement, as it turns out. Perhaps he’ll join us for our next meeting.” Belle moved toward the piano. “That’s a lovely piece of music, Stacy. I’ve never heard it before.”
“It’s The Emperor Waltz by Johann Strauss, published just last year. My music teacher had me play it in a recital this past spring.”
“You play it beautifully…and from memory, too!”
Stephen sauntered over. “Since Miss Oakhurst has arrived, let her and Horatio show us how the waltz is supposed to look.”
“Miss Oakhurst, allow me to present my brother, Mr. Horatio Egermann,” Eva said. “Horatio, this is Miss Oakhurst.”
As Horatio approached Belle and bowed, his burnished blond hair fell over his brow like a forelock. “If indeed you know how to waltz, please relieve my suffering and consent to dance with me, Miss Oakhurst.”
Eva sighed as she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
Belle curtsied. “Thank you, sir.”
Although the lad was a mere fourteen years of age, he was already over six feet tall. Horatio led Belle to the center of the floor, and Stacy began to play The Emperor Waltz from the beginning. As Horatio and Belle waltzed together, she discovered the young man was an accomplished dancer. They moved around the room, careful to avoid colliding with ottomans or onlookers. Horatio’s icy expression thawed, replaced by one of genuine enjoyment. When the last note faded, Belle and Horatio released their hold. Amidst applause, he bowed once more and she responded with a curtsy.
“That truly was a pleasure, Miss Oakhurst,” Horatio said.
“I thank you, Mr. Egermann.”
Carl stepped forward to clap his nephew on the back. “You really were paying attention in dance class, weren’t you? Well done.”
Stephen held his hand out to Belle. “It’s my turn.”
Stacy selected Tales from the Vienna Woods from the sheet music available, and began to play. Whereas Belle’s dance with Horatio had been light and innocent, Stephen’s demeanor was entirely different. The intimate way he looked at her as they danced brought a blush to her cheeks wholly unrelated to the physical exertions of the waltz.
“I can hardly compete with that,” Carl muttered when the dance ended.
Horatio frowned. “Nor I.”
“I distinctly recall you saying you were out of practice, Stephen,” Louise said.
“Dancing with Miss Oakhurst must have inspired me,” he replied.
His smoldering glance left Belle flustered.
“You’re a dreadful tease, Mr. Van Eyck,” she managed. “Stacy, let me spell you at the piano. I don’t play as well as you, but I can manage something simple.”
Stacy stood, and Belle took her place. Before Stephen led Stacy to the dance floor, he leaned down to whisper in Belle’s ear.
“I was perfectly serious, as you are well aware.”
A delicious shiver went down her spine, but Belle pretended not to have heard him. Her attention focused on the keyboard as she warmed up her trembling fingers with a few chords.
Mr. Ley moved his bishop and sat back. “Checkmate, sir.”
Incredulous, Wesley stared at the chessboard. Although he was desperate to rescue his king, there was no escape to be found. Finally, he extended his hand across the table to shake his opponent’s hand. “Well played, Mr. Ley. I’m fairly certain I’ve never been beaten so quickly before, nor so soundly.”
“It was a good match, Wesley. The turning point came, however, when you left your queen unprotected. You allowed my bishop to distract you.”
“I admit that was a stupid move. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Mr. Ley stood. “I take my leave, but I enjoyed the evening immensely. Perhaps you can find some young people with whom to pass a pleasant interlude until bedtime?”
“I shall. Good night, Mr. Ley.”
As Mr. Ley left, Wesley swept the chess pieces into their wooden box, folded up the board, and replaced the set in the cabinet. A glance at his pocket watch revealed the time was eight o’clock. He left the library and traveled the short distance to the drawing room, peeking through the glass door at the activity inside. Stephen and Belle were dancing together—a waltz, he presumed. Stephen’s hand was resting on her upper back in a familiar fashion. In return, she was smiling at him in what could only be described as a flirtatious manner. A surge of jealousy mixed with a sudden sense of chagrin. I’m a fool! I could’ve been here with Belle, but instead I was trounced at chess!
Stephen and Belle dipped and turned with athletic grace, seemingly with no thought for anyone else but each other. I can’t dance with Belle like that. Blast Stephen! Wesley opened the door and slipped inside.
“There you are, Wesley!” Louise exclaimed.
The piano music stopped, and all eyes turned toward him. Belle and Stephen froze for a moment in hold before splitting apart.
“Hullo,” Wesley said, suddenly tongue-tied. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Better late than not at all,” Stephen said. “Only we just danced the last dance.”
Belle hurriedly made introductions all around, after which came an awkward pause. “Well…shall we discuss when and where we’re to meet next?” she asked.
“We were unusually fortunate to have the drawing room to ourselves this evening,” Stacy said. “I doubt we’d be that lucky again.”
“I’ve been thinking. Since there are no steerage passengers, couldn’t we get permission to use their exercise deck in the afternoons?” Stephen asked.
“What a wonderful idea! I’m sure there will be a rolling piano on that deck we could press into service,” Eva said.
Stacy frowned. “I wish we had a pianist that wasn’t one of us. We’ll never have a complete square at this rate.”
“We could always advertise in the ship newspaper, asking for volunteers,” Wesley said. “I’ll broach the matter with my steward.”
“That would be wonderful,” Belle said.
Horatio stifled a yawn. “Good night, then.”
Carl Stenger and the Egermann sisters left with Horatio, but Stephen, Wesley, Belle, and Louise lingered.
“Miss Oakhurst, may I escort you to your cabin?” Stephen asked.
“Er…thank you, Mr. Van Eyck,” Belle said.
Wesley gritted his teeth. Never leave your queen unprotected! “I’ll go too. I’m curious which cabin is yours, Miss Oakhurst.”
Louise sniffed. “My cabin is just down the hall from Annabelle’s, should anyone wonder.”
When Wesley returned to his cabin, he remembered to ask Cavendish whether or not he’d eaten dinner.
“Thank you, Your Grace, I have. There’s a separate sitting for servants and the food was most excellent.”
“Good.”
Wesley slumped into a chair, morose. Cavendish paused his knitting needles long enough to peer at him. “I can’t help but notice something seems amiss.”
“My friends have formed a dance club, and I don’t know how to dance. Stephen Van Eyck was dancing with Miss Oakhurst just now, like he was born to it.”
“Nobody is born knowing how to dance. It’s a learned skill.”
Wesley sprang to his feet and began to pace. “I understand, but I’m going to look stupid. For him to show me up is intolerable.”
“If you’ll permit me, I can give you pointers.”
Wesley’s footsteps paused. “You know how to dance?”
“In my day, the polka was all the rage, along with the redowa, mazurka, schottische, and galop, among others. At present, I believe the emphasis is on the waltz and two-step, but you never know when a polka, quadrille, or promenade will be required, especially in the highest society.”
“I take that as a yes. Cavendish, you’re a lifesaver!” He paused. “Can you teach me to wa
ltz tonight?”
“I can teach you the basics. After that, you’ll have to practice with a female partner—preferably an attractive one.”
“There’s a practice tomorrow afternoon, assuming we can get permission for the space. That reminds me, I must write a note about it to Mr. Finnegan. We’re also putting an advertisement for an accompanist in the ship’s newspaper.”
“I’d be happy to oblige in that regard too, if you’ll release me from my valet duties during those hours.”
“You play the piano? Cavendish, is there anything you can’t do?”
“There are many, many things that challenge me, but I’d rather not bore you with a lengthy list.”
Wesley dashed off a note to the steward, asking for permission to use the steerage exercise deck and a piano.
“I’ll take that to Mr. Finnegan’s cabin, Your Grace,” Cavendish said. “When I return, we can get started.”
Her berth was comfortable, warm, and snug, but Belle was too restless to sleep. So much had transpired that day she could not have anticipated. She’d met a great many wealthy American friends with illustrious pedigrees. America may not have traditional royalty, but it has a form of aristocracy all its own. Her warm acceptance among them had been intoxicating, and the girls had even progressed to calling each other by their Christian names. Carl, Horatio, and Stephen had sought her out as a desirable dance partner—and what fun she’d had!
Admittedly, Carl Stenger was in dire need of practice, but he was willing to work hard. Horatio had been a very able dancer, but he paled in comparison to Stephen. Never before had she had such a capable partner! Errol disliked dancing, and although she’d partnered many sweaty young men at Monsieur Caron’s Dance Academy, few had a sense of grace or timing. In Stephen’s arms, she’d felt as if she could fly. She giggled at the memory of him whispering in her ear. The fellow was certainly high-spirited and impudent. Ordinarily she would never encourage such frivolous attentions, but what was the harm in a passing flirtation of short duration?
