Page 49 of When the Viscount Seduces
“Will you let me know if I can help you at all? Anytime. Anywhere.”
Lazarus allowed a smile. Did she have any idea what that sort of invitation conjured in his salacious mind? “I will,” he lied. He had no intention of seeking her out. He could not. She was on her way to finding a husband, and he would likely toast her wedding come June.
“I don’t suppose you’ll rescue me at Almack’s again tonight if I need it?” she asked hopefully. “We didn’t go last week, but my mother thinks we must attend tonight since my fortunes seem to have improved.”
Watching her dance with a parade of eligible bachelors would be certain torture. And yet, he was drawn to want to protect her, to ensure she enjoyed a wonderful evening. “I don’t think I will be there,” he said regretfully.
She nodded, then moved around the table to collect her things. “You should keep practicing reading every day. If you don’t mind, I’d be happy to send you things to practice with the markings I’ve made.”
“Would you?” The words leapt from his mouth before he even considered her offer. But it would be fine. Sending him things didn’t mean they would see one another.
“Of course. In fact, I’ll do it anyway, if you don’t want me to,” she added with a chuckle.
“I do want you to,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
Picking up her bag, she gave him a lingering stare. “Thankyou. For everything. You have altered the course of my life.”
Then she turned and was gone from the library. Gone fromhim. Forever.
The following afternoon, Gwen donned her dancing slippers for another lesson with Mr. Tremblay. She was not looking forward to the next hour or however long he would be there. She would much prefer another tutoring lesson with Lazarus, especially if there would be kissing.
But there wouldn’t be any more tutoring nor any kissing. Gwen had felt as though she were in a fog since leaving him yesterday afternoon. She would blame that for her mishap at Almack’s last night, but since she was clumsy on any given day, she could not.
She’d tripped during a longways dance and managed to fall onto a rather short, slender gentleman, knocking him to the floor. Thankfully, he’d laughed and helped her up, but her partner for the dance, Mr. Brentworth, hadn’t been impressed. She was fairly certain that was the last she’d see of him.
Before that, she’d danced with Mr. Markwith and believed he was interested in a courtship. He had to leave London early this morning to visit a family member in Kent, but said he would see her when he returned. Instead of feeling excited by his attention and interest, she was still feeling foggy—or something—about Lazarus.
She needed to move on from their exciting interludes. He was precisely the man she thought he was—an utter rogue—and thus, the type of man she’d vowed never to wed. Not that he would have been interested in marrying her. Indeed, he hadn’t been able to get away from her quickly enough. All because he couldn’t manage his rakish tendencies.
She thought of what her mother had said regarding his reputation and that he would not make a good husband. Perhaps she was right—her opinion mattered to Gwen. And here Gwen was behaving inappropriately with a known rogue. Her mother would be horrified. Gwen couldn’t help but flinch inwardly.
Knowing Lazarus wasn’t a good choice didn’t make the pain of losing their friendship any less. But if she could focus on the fact that she was better off without him, perhaps the ache would ease.
“Gwen, why are you staring at the wall with that forlorn expression?” her mother asked. She was already seated near the window with her magazine.
Shaking her head, Gwen blinked. “Just lost in thought. Thinking of a book I’m reading,” she fibbed.
Mr. Tremblay and his musician arrived, and Gwen forced a smile while her body tensed. “Good afternoon, Miss Price. Are you ready to waltz?”
“I don’t suppose we could start with a simple longways dance?” Gwen asked, and not just because it would mean he wasn’t touching her for very long. After last night, she could use the practice.
The dancing master frowned, his forehead pleating gently as his bow lips pursed. “Is that really necessary? I should think you ought to move beyond that.”
“Just a quick review would be helpful,” Gwen said. “I, ah, sometimes have trouble with it.”
“I see.” He suddenly smiled brilliantly. “If we have time at the end, we’ll give that a quick practice. But first, we must focus on the more challenging dances.”
“Mr. Tremblay,” Gwen’s mother called. “Would you mind starting with the cotillion? Gwen is more likely to dance that than the waltz or the quadrille.”
Mr. Tremblay appeared slightly disappointed, but he covered it with another smile. “Very well.”
Feeling relieved, Gwen followed Mr. Tremblay’s instruction. The music started, and he guided her through the dance, touching her more than she expected, his hand lingering on her arm and grazing her back and hip. A few times, she misstepped, and he was quick to grab her and steer her correctly. It would not have been strange at all, except for the length of time he held her and the way his touches sometimes felt like caresses.
Then there were the overly friendly smiles. Indeed, they were almost…seductive. Everything he did made her distinctly uncomfortable.
When the music stopped, he applauded briefly. “You’ve done very well, Miss Price. Time for the waltz.”
Gwen glanced toward her mother who was just returning her attention to the magazine she held. Had she seen any of the things Mr. Tremblay was doing?
