Page 33 of When the Viscount Seduces
“Begin, Mr. Nott,” Mr. Tremblay instructed. Then he spoke in a flurry, his hands guiding her as they apparently danced the quadrille. To Gwen, it was a hopelessly confusing mash of nonsense.
She found it very hard to concentrate. Perhaps because Mr. Tremblay’s mouth was very near her ear. She could feel his proximity as much as hear it. And then there were his hands. They moved about her abdomen, pressing on her rib cage so thathis fingers lightly grazed the underside of her breast. Then they slid down to her thigh, as he directed her leg movements. As he brought his hand back up, his touch was like a caress over her hip.
Gwen did not like it.
And while he did not smell of cheese, he did carry a rather strong scent of sandalwood and bergamot, as if he’d doused himself in it before coming into the house. Had he not bathed in some time? Or did he simply like to ensure he had a pleasing smell?
Gwen began to think Mr. Tremblay was a study in excess. Even his clothing was too much—from his bright green-and-blue-striped waistcoat to the large, jeweled pin sparkling in his frothy, overwrought cravat.
She stepped on his foot, and he at last released her. Though she hadn’t done it on purpose, she now knew how to get him to stop handling her. Mr. Nott stopped playing.
“My apologies, Mr. Tremblay,” she murmured. “I am not the fastest learner when it comes to dancing.” She wondered if she could ask Somerton to teach her. As her mother had pointed out, he’d somehow made her look good waltzing.
“Quite all right, Miss Price. You are here to learn. Let us begin anew.”
Gwen hesitated, as she didn’t particularly want his hands on her in the manner he was using. But what if it helped? If Gwen could master the quadrille, her mother would be thrilled.
Taking a deep breath, she braced herself as he clasped her waist. By the end of the lesson, she was only marginally closer to dancing the quadrille, and she’d managed to step on his toes four times practicing the waltz. Meanwhile, her jaw ached from clenching it as she’d endured his physical direction.
After arranging their next lesson for later in the week, he departed with his musician. Gwen let herself sag with relief,but then realized it was now three and she was late for her appointment with Somerton.
“You look tired, dear,” her mother said. “Perhaps you shouldn’t visit your friend today. Just send a note.”
“I’m fine, Mama. Although, I’m not sure Mr. Tremblay is the right dancing master for me. That was rather intense.”
“He seems very dedicated. You are likely overwhelmed because he introduced a new dance. Perhaps next time, we’ll tell him to just focus on the reel and cotillion.” She gave Gwen an encouraging smile. “Let’s give him one more chance, at least. It’s not as if we have a great deal of choice, and heisin high demand.”
Gwen didn’t want to argue with her, both because she wanted to please her mother and because she was already late. “All right. I must be off.” The driver had likely been waiting with the gig for a quarter hour.
“Before you go, I wanted to ask about the callers who were here on Saturday. Have you given more thought as to who might have piqued your interest?” Her mother watched her expectantly.
“Not yet. I liked them all.” They were all gentlemen who enjoyed more than inane conversation, which made them more than acceptable. “I just need to become better acquainted with them.”
“Of course. I must say, I’m relieved Lord Somerton isn’t under consideration. While it was quite fortuitous to have his attention, I am not sure he would have been the best match. Because of his reputation,” she added. “I only want you to have a happy, successful marriage.”
Gwen knew her parents had fallen in love, and her mother wanted that for Gwen. She also wanted Gwen’s marriage to be highly regarded. It wasn’t that she was pushing Gwen toward a title, but a gentleman with an excellent reputation and, ifpossible, a decent amount of wealth. She wanted love, comfort, and security for her daughter, and how could Gwen argue with that? So long as he wasn’t a rogue, Gwen would be agreeable.
Finally able to extricate herself, Gwen dashed upstairs to change her shoes and fetch her hat and gloves. Thankfully, Tamsin’s house wasn’t far, which was the only reason her mother allowed her to go alone in the gig, and Gwen arrived quickly. Still, she was exceedingly tardy. She hoped she and Somerton could still have an hour so they wouldn’t lose any of their precious time together.
Lazarus was beginning to grow concerned. He couldn’t imagine why Miss Price would be so late. And Tamsin didn’t know either. Droxford was working in his study, while Lazarus was in the library with his cousin.
“I hope nothing is amiss,” Tamsin said from the settee, her brow gently creased.
Could she have forgotten? Lazarus couldn’t see that happening.
At last, Miss Price burst into the room, her cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry I’m late!”
Tamsin stood. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes. I had a lesson with a new dancing master. Mama was able to find someone to take me on, and she asked him to start immediately. My apologies.” She looked to Lazarus with a faint grimace.
“I’m only pleased to see you are well.” Lazarus had been genuinely worried.
Miss Price looked from Lazarus to Tamsin. “Can we still have an hour, or will that intrude on everyone’s plans?”
“It’s fine by me,” Tamsin said. “I’ve correspondence to attend to.” She smiled at them, then departed the library.
“And you?” Miss Price asked, facing Lazarus.
