Read Online For Love's Sake by Leonora De Vere - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leonora De Vere
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will still have me.”
“Are you going to apologize for calling me childish?”
“No.”
Laurel decided to quit while she was still somewhat ahead. She grabbed his arm and led him over to a makeshift bench in the corner. The band struck up a lively tune, and the partygoers – satisfied that their night had not been ruined after all – jumped out on the dance floor. Someone handed them each a jar of homemade wine, which they sipped in silence.
After a few minutes, Laurel turned to him. “I am glad you came.”
Christopher shot her a bland smile. He was not glad that he decided to come, but it was better than spending a night in his hotel room without a drop to drink. His attention was drawn to the dancers in front of them, who were stomping and jumping in time to the music that poured out of the banjo player’s fingers and the fiddler’s bow. He had never seen anything like it in his life, and asked Laurel what it was they were doing.
“Buckdancing. Flat-footing. Some call it clogging, but we just call it dancing!”
“Can you do it?”
“Can I do it? Of course I can!”
His eyebrow cocked in an unspoken challenge. This, he had to see.
Laurel threw her head back and laughed. She accepted his challenge and handed him her jar of wine. Without the slightest hesitation, she ran to the dance floor and jumped right in. Her hands held her skirts, which she swished and swirled as she danced. In her own little circle, she tapped her heels and toes, hopping from one foot to another. Encouragement from the spectators made her smile, but it was the look of pure amazement of Christopher’s face that brought her the greatest happiness.
When the song was over, she flopped back down on the bench beside him, amid cheers and applause. “ Can I dance? Why, I can dance the varnish right off that floor!” Laurel said with a laugh.
There was no doubt in his mind that she couldn’t. “Miss Graham, that was amazing!”
“Well, maybe someday you can teach me how to dance your way, and I’ll try to teach you how to dance mine!”
By the end of the night, Laurel danced until her feet were sore, and drank so much that she could hardly walk. Christopher found that he liked the wine as well, and mixed with the generous amount of questionably brewed whiskey passed around, he found his head spinning by the time he walked Miss Graham back to town.
They strolled arm in arm down the country road, with nothing but nature all around them. It was a beautiful autumn night, and the lonesome call of a whippoorwill could be heard in the distance. It sent a chill up Laurel’s spine, and she clung tighter to Christopher’s arm. If he minded the intimacy, he did nothing to discourage it.
“You must be very tired,” he said.
“Tired? No,” Laurel laughed in spite of herself. “A little drunk maybe…”
Christopher smiled and patted her small hand. London ladies often overindulged in champagne, but they never admitted to drunkenness. Her candor amused him – an honest woman was a novel concept in his eyes.
The moonlight of the countryside gave way to the lamp glow of residential streets. There was only the sound of their footsteps on the sidewalks as they passed the stately homes on Marlwood Avenue. Still reeling from her evening’s celebrations, Laurel caught the toe of her boot in a crack of the cement. The misstep sent her crashing forward, stopped only by the strong hand of her companion.
“Be careful, Miss Graham!”
Laurel could only laugh. She laughed so hard that she could not stop. In fact, her humor was contagious, and Christopher could not help but join her in it. Before long, their guffaws rang through the streets, even drawing the attention of some of the neighbors. At the corner, Doctor Monroe’s dog barked a warning as they took the shortcut to her apartment.
They paused in the alleyway, just below the stairs.
“I have had the most wonderful time,” Christopher confessed.
Laurel was pleased to hear
“Are you going to apologize for calling me childish?”
“No.”
Laurel decided to quit while she was still somewhat ahead. She grabbed his arm and led him over to a makeshift bench in the corner. The band struck up a lively tune, and the partygoers – satisfied that their night had not been ruined after all – jumped out on the dance floor. Someone handed them each a jar of homemade wine, which they sipped in silence.
After a few minutes, Laurel turned to him. “I am glad you came.”
Christopher shot her a bland smile. He was not glad that he decided to come, but it was better than spending a night in his hotel room without a drop to drink. His attention was drawn to the dancers in front of them, who were stomping and jumping in time to the music that poured out of the banjo player’s fingers and the fiddler’s bow. He had never seen anything like it in his life, and asked Laurel what it was they were doing.
“Buckdancing. Flat-footing. Some call it clogging, but we just call it dancing!”
“Can you do it?”
“Can I do it? Of course I can!”
His eyebrow cocked in an unspoken challenge. This, he had to see.
Laurel threw her head back and laughed. She accepted his challenge and handed him her jar of wine. Without the slightest hesitation, she ran to the dance floor and jumped right in. Her hands held her skirts, which she swished and swirled as she danced. In her own little circle, she tapped her heels and toes, hopping from one foot to another. Encouragement from the spectators made her smile, but it was the look of pure amazement of Christopher’s face that brought her the greatest happiness.
When the song was over, she flopped back down on the bench beside him, amid cheers and applause. “ Can I dance? Why, I can dance the varnish right off that floor!” Laurel said with a laugh.
There was no doubt in his mind that she couldn’t. “Miss Graham, that was amazing!”
“Well, maybe someday you can teach me how to dance your way, and I’ll try to teach you how to dance mine!”
By the end of the night, Laurel danced until her feet were sore, and drank so much that she could hardly walk. Christopher found that he liked the wine as well, and mixed with the generous amount of questionably brewed whiskey passed around, he found his head spinning by the time he walked Miss Graham back to town.
They strolled arm in arm down the country road, with nothing but nature all around them. It was a beautiful autumn night, and the lonesome call of a whippoorwill could be heard in the distance. It sent a chill up Laurel’s spine, and she clung tighter to Christopher’s arm. If he minded the intimacy, he did nothing to discourage it.
“You must be very tired,” he said.
“Tired? No,” Laurel laughed in spite of herself. “A little drunk maybe…”
Christopher smiled and patted her small hand. London ladies often overindulged in champagne, but they never admitted to drunkenness. Her candor amused him – an honest woman was a novel concept in his eyes.
The moonlight of the countryside gave way to the lamp glow of residential streets. There was only the sound of their footsteps on the sidewalks as they passed the stately homes on Marlwood Avenue. Still reeling from her evening’s celebrations, Laurel caught the toe of her boot in a crack of the cement. The misstep sent her crashing forward, stopped only by the strong hand of her companion.
“Be careful, Miss Graham!”
Laurel could only laugh. She laughed so hard that she could not stop. In fact, her humor was contagious, and Christopher could not help but join her in it. Before long, their guffaws rang through the streets, even drawing the attention of some of the neighbors. At the corner, Doctor Monroe’s dog barked a warning as they took the shortcut to her apartment.
They paused in the alleyway, just below the stairs.
“I have had the most wonderful time,” Christopher confessed.
Laurel was pleased to hear
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