Page 42 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
“I passed that a long time ago. So why couldn’t you sing with her?”
“Be quiet,” Simon said tiredly.
“Then I shouldn’t tell you we’re about to hit the shore?”
Simon quickly reversed his rowing until they slowed down. He felt a gentle grind along the keel. “Were you just going to let me beach the boat?”
“Might have been good for you.”
Simon sighed and used an oar to push away from the shore. “I wish you’d find that line and cross back over it.”
“And let you be bored?”
Simon harrumphed.
~oOo~
Simon thought he was quite subtle the following morning when he questioned Georgie about the day’s lesson with Louisa. It would be dancing, another thing he could not help his sister with. He remembered Georgie writing him letters about her dancing masters whining over their injured toes. She’d made it all into a joke, and he’d been so busy with his own life, that he’d accepted it.
Not anymore. Dancing was a sensitive topic for her since she’d tripped the duke’s son. He didn’t remember her dancing at all after that, unless he himself dragged her onto the floor. How would Louisa handle such a delicate thing?
Georgie invited him to attend, confessing her nerves, giving Simon a way in without making it look like his idea.
After luncheon, Simon had Manvil escort him to the far end of the manor, where the ballroom occupied a corner of the ground floor, and opened up onto the terrace.
“The ladies are going to dance?” Manvil said doubtfully.
“Are they here?”
“Yes, in the far corner where the housekeeper is seated at the piano.”
“I wondered who was going to play for them.”
“I was impressed with how you managed to get yourself invited.”
Simon gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a shame I must keep you around all day.”
Manvil didn’t answer, only guided him into the room. Simon imagined it all as he walked. He could see the tall windows in his mind, see the sun shining in them rather than moonlight. And there would be Louisa, that red hair shining. He remembered other ballrooms, where he’d watched her through the crowd. She’d been almost a queen among subjects then.
As always, he wondered why she wanted to help Georgie more than returning to be the toast of London.
“Simon, you came!” Georgie cried.
Manvil retreated to the corridor as usual. Simon heard the sound of her soft slippers running toward him, then lowered his cheek for her quick kiss.
“I don’t mind being moral support,” he said mildly.
“Moral support?” Louisa said. “Dancing is that frightening, Georgie?”
“The memories are not good,” Georgie said. “Do you…know what happened, Louisa? How I embarrassed myself?”
Simon began, “You did not embarrass yourself—”
Then he felt a soft touch on his arm and stopped. He knew who touched him like that, full of hesitancy, yet lingering a bit too long. Louisa.
“Georgie,” she said, “your brother told me a little. You must feel terrible that people witnessed your mistakes in so public a place.”
After a pause, Georgie said, “It was dreadful. I don’t even think the duke’s son would have asked me, but Grandmama knew his mother and…I’m sure he felt obliged. And then I put him on his face on the floor.”
