Page 17 of The Sound of Seduction
Stan narrowed his eyes.
“I didn’t know you couldn’t dance properly.” Andre winced when he said it.
Wendy stiffened and seemed to avoid looking in Stan’s direction. Yet he saw her over the newspaper’s edge. “I… I meant to learn,” she stammered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “but there never seemed to be time.”
“I can teach you.” Andre kicked an imaginary pebble on the Persian rug. “I’ve had formal lessons with my own sister.”
“In Florence?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Yes. There will be a cotillion for certain.” Andre said as he bent down.No!He bowed deeply. “May I, Miss Folsham?”
Wendy chuckled and let Andre lead her to the center of the drawing room, her hands resting lightly against Andre’s as he explained the steps of the cotillion. Her pale cream frock, simple yet fetching, fluttered as she curtsied, earning a crisp nod of approval from Andre.
Stan hated every moment of watching her take a dance lesson from Andre—it should have been him.
Yet, seated at the table, Stan held the newspaper aloft, though the print was nothing more than a jumble of meaningless black on white. His jaw clenched as he tried to concentrate on the words, but every laugh Wendy released cut through him like the sharpest of swords. He dared another glance above the paper. Andre had positioned himself next to her now, one hand at her waist, the other guiding her arm in an invisible arc. Wendy stumbled over a step, giggling as Andre steadied her, and the sound—her sound—ignited a chain of envy so fierce that Stan bit the inside of his cheek in frustration.
He was the royal in the room and yet, found himself relegated to the sidelines, watching helplessly as another man gleaned her smiles. Crushing the pages of the newspaper a bit too tightly, he cleared his throat, though none looked his way.
“Perfect, just like that,” Andre murmured, stepping nimbly back before bowing in exaggerated courtly form.
Wendy’s laughter was musical, her curtsy playful as she replied, “If only it were that easy. You make it seem effortless.”
“I assure you, it wasn’t always the case,” Andre countered, bringing her back into position for another pass. “I had plenty oflessons myself—often with my sister, who was forever telling me I lacked elegance.”
“Did you?” Wendy teased, tilting her head as if mocking disbelief.
“To hear her tell it, I was hopeless,” he replied with a grin. “Hopeless until she conceded I’d surpassed even her expectations. She always claimed I danced with her only because no other lady would suffer my missteps.”
Wendy chuckled. “You don’t seem so hopeless now. I think you’re quite good.”
Stan lowered the newspaper with a deliberate thud. “Quite good,” he repeated, his tone laced with a shadow of something unreadable. “Except you seem to have overlooked the most important steps.”
Andre paused, eyebrows raised, his expression uncharacteristically blank. “Have I?”
Stan stood, peeking out from behind the newspaper with slow precision, his gaze pointedly catching Wendy’s just long enough to make her look away.
“The steps are different for any dance in three-four time,” Stan said.
“In a waltz,” Andre said flatly, the declaration hanging like a scandal in the air. “Surely you don’t mean to credit me with skipping over what is hardly a proper dance by certain accounts.”
Stan shrugged. “Call it what you will,” he replied evenly, his voice betraying nothing. “It’s the one worth remembering.” And with that, he held the paper up, leaving Wendy’s gaze lingering on him, sending a shiver down his back.
“Your Royal Highness… is your paper upside down?” Wendy asked.
Stan froze mid-turn of the page, his princely façade crumbling just enough for that betraying heat to rise to hiscollar. With agonizing precision, he set the paper down, his composure recovered in an instant.
“It’s an editorial trick to test the most astute of readers,” he quipped. He glanced at Wendy fleetingly, but his gaze lingered in the air between them, heavy with something unsaid.
“Why not show how it’s done then?” Andre said, stepping away with a bow to Wendy. “I’ll let you cut in.”
Stan tilted his head; his heart apparently had forgotten to beat. “I could, though perhaps advice from Andre would suffice.” He paused, and when he turned his focus fully to Wendy, the change was palpable—soft, searching, almost tender. “Unless you’d prefer otherwise?”
Chapter Seven
Wendy never wantedher first dance with the prince to be in her drawing room, but considering that it was happening at all made her quiver with joy that she thought she’d snap in two like a twig. When Prince Stan stepped forward, tall and confident, his shadow stretched long and commanding across the wooden floor. Wendy soon forgot to breathe again. He bowed slightly when he stood just behind Andre, an elegant gesture that sent a tingle skittering down her spine.
“And this is how a gentleman cuts in,” Andre said as he bowed to the prince as he stepped back from Wendy.
