Read Online Fair Maiden by Cheri Schmidt - Free Book Online

grooves circling the round, flat surface. “Musicians play their music
and then the sound is transferred to this.”
    “How do they do that?” she asked airily and slowly,
annunciating each word.
    He didn’t actually know, and didn’t know how to even begin
to explain it, so he attempted another approach. “It’s not sorcery, darling,
it’s science.”
    After another long and confused gaze into his eyes, she
turned her attention back to the gramophone.
    “Shall we dance?” he asked, trying to remind her of the
reason he’d put music on in the first place.
    The ghost took another peek into the brass horn and then
faced him. “Oh, yes please. The…what did you call it?”
    “The waltz.”
    Christian reached for her, but then became worried. How
could he lead her when he could not touch her? She smiled, stepping into his
arms and settled one hand over his shoulder and the other above his extended
palm just as he directed.
    Watching carefully, he placed a hand at her waist to
complete the feigned hold, attempting to not pass it through her body.
    Still, he wondered how he was going to actually guide her
without pressing on her back. “Hmm, are you familiar with the basic steps? I
don’t recall the history….”
    When she stared back at him, pinching that bottom lip of
hers between her teeth, he knew she either didn’t know it, or simply couldn’t
recall. And a Viennese was plainly too fast for him to tutor her. He stepped
away from her, and dropped his arms, apologizing with his gaze. “Let’s try an
ordinary waltz. The tempo isn’t quite so quick,” he said, moving back to the
gramophone to select a more appropriate tune.
    As the next arrangement began, he said, “Now, I suggest you
watch first, so that I may demonstrate the steps. Then we’ll try it together.”
He lifted his arms as if he were holding her and began to count as he waltzed
through a circle around her.
    He stopped, then said, “Ready?”
    Again stepping into his hold, she smiled and released her
bottom lip. “Ready.”
    “One two three, one—” He began and then halted when he could
see and feel that they were not moving as one, and they were drifting right through
one another. “Oh, dear.”
    “Am I doing it wrong?”
    “I—well, no, not exactly. It’s simply—” He exhaled. His
irritation was with himself, and the fact that he couldn’t actually touch her.
How was he to instruct? Then an idea came to him. “How about this? Watch my
chest, and that should alert you to my next move.”
    She nodded, wide eyed, innocent, and eager.
    They began, again with him counting. And this time, it
worked. Mostly. She was able to keep track of his guidance by watching his
chest, though she did take a few peeks down at his feet to maintain track of
their movement as well. She squealed with delight. “Oh! Such fun! Is this what
you do when you go to London?”
    “This is a favorite pastime of the ton.”
    “The what?”
    “Ah, of course you don’t know what that is. The ton is the upper class of English society, the fashionable scene in London. Vogue London. In truth, I try to avoid the gossiping, judgmental lot.”
    “Why?”
    “They can be quite unkind and shun you from parties if you
do not behave as they expect. Even having you here alone with me would be
looked down upon.”
    “Does my being here cause a problem for you?”
    “Certainly not, you’re not—” He cleared his throat of the
last word. Not wanting to say it like that and upset her. Again.
    After a long pause, she said, “It sounds like court.”
    “Have you been to court?”
    She frowned. “I—do not recall.”
    For a moment he hoped this would give him a clue as to who
she was. She could be titled if she’d been to court, but she could have also
been a lady’s maid and still gone to court. Again, this proved little either
way.
    “There are other dances I could teach you.” He hoped that
she appreciated his efforts to change the subject.
    She beamed up at