Chapter 224
Chapter 224
Irist
+25 BONUS
“Keep your chin up and shoulders back, Miss Willford! And one–two–three, one–two–three. No, no, no! You’re leading again!”
I bite back a frustrated groan as Madame Laurent, the ancient dance instructor my parents hired for me, stops the music for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour. Her thin lips press together with obvious
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disappointment as she circles Arthur and me, prodding at my shoulders, neck, and arms with her knotted old fingers.
Madame Laurent is apparently one of the most prestigious ballroom dance instructors in Ordan. The crème de la crème.
She’s also a fucking drill sergeant.
“The waltz is the backbone of high society,” she barks. “It’s not just a dance–it is a statement. And right now, you are making a very poor statement indeed.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. It’s been three weeks since I met my parents, and every day since then has been filled with some kind of training–etiquette lessons, political history tutoring, fashion consultations, and now, dancing.
Oh, the joy.
“I’m trying,” I mutter, wiping my sweaty palms against my skirt, which is heavy, cumbersome, and wide- practice for the ballgown I’ll be wearing for my debut.
“Trying is not good enough,” Madame Laurent snaps. “The Willford Ball is in two weeks. In two weeks, you will be presented to the world as the lost heir. And the dance-“she makes a dramatic gesture with her bony hands, ” -the dance is the centerpiece of that presentation!”
She’s right, of course. Apparently, Willford tradition states that every heir must perform a dance at their public debut. It’s highly anticipated, and failure is seen as a bad omen. Back in the olden days, it was believed that if an heir couldn’t properly execute the footwork, then they would trod all over the family name in the same way. Or something like that.
I don’t think my parents actually believe that now. But this dance is still very important.
Arthur, who has been surprisingly patient through all of this, gives my hand a small squeeze. “Perhaps we should take a short break,” he suggests.
Madame Laurent looks like he just pissed on her shoe, but even she seems to recognize that the Alpha President won’t take no for an answer. “Very well. Five minutes,” she relents with a huff, stalking across the marble floor toward the stereo system.
Once she’s out of earshot, I let my head drop against Arthur’s chest. “I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I’m going to humiliate myself in front of everyone. Again.”
“You won’t,” he says, his hand rubbing small circles on my back. “You’re just overthinking it.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve probably been dancing at fancy balls since you were in diapers. I only vaguely know how to sway and spin because of our living room dancing sessions.”
He chuckles. “Not quite that young, but close enough.”
I look up at him, studying his face. Despite the tension between him and my newly–discovered family, Arthur has
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Chapter 224
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been incredibly supportive throughout this whole process. He attends every lesson with me, stands up for me when my Instructors get too harsh, and has practically rearranged his entire schedule to accommodate my trailing.
He’s amazing. And I’m not cut out for this. I belong in a messy art studio in my yellow cardigan with the hole in the sleeve, not in a ballroom wearing enormous skirts with people watching my every move.
“Time’s up!” Madame Laurent announces, even though it’s only been, like, two minutes at the most. “Back to your positions, please.”
With a sigh, I return to Arthur’s arms, trying to remember all the rules. Back straight but not stiff. Chin up but not too high. Right hand on his shoulder, left hand in his. Elbows at the right angle. Don’t look at your feet.
The music starts again, and we begin to move. One–two–three, one–two–three. For the first few beats, I actually manage to follow, but then Arthur turns and I go in the wrong direction, stepping squarely on his foot.
*25 BONUS
Chapter 225
