Page 50 of When the Viscount Seduces
Wanting to get through the lesson as rapidly as possible, Gwen gritted her teeth and stepped toward the dancing master. He clasped her hand and pressed his palm against her lower back. His fingertips were pointed down, toward her backside, and encroached on that space. Gwen endured five minutes of his groping and abruptly stepped away from him.
Mr. Tremblay instructed the musician to stop playing. “Is something amiss?” he asked Gwen.
“I’m afraid I’ve a headache. I’m going to have to lie down,” Gwen said. “Please excuse me.” She barely glanced at her mother before hastening from the drawing room.
Up in her bedchamber, she kicked off her dancing slippers and considered asking for a bath to wash away the dancing master’s insidious touch. Instead, she paced the room and rehearsed what she would tell her mother, for she could not suffer another lesson with Mr. Tremblay.
A light knock on the door drew Gwen to stop. “Come.”
Her mother stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Are you all right? I thought you’d be lying down.”
“I’m fine. I don’t have a headache.”
Lines furrowed across her mother’s brow. “Why would you lie?”
“Because I couldn’t tolerate another minute of Mr. Tremblay’s wandering hands or his suggestive looks. I’m sorry, Mama, but he is too familiar. I do not like him, and I don’t want to see him anymore.”
Her mother looked aghast. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice any of that.”
Gwen stopped herself from responding that it was because she’d been reading her magazine. “I’m sure it was difficult for you to see from your vantage point. But you trust me when I tell you he verges on behaving inappropriately, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, dear.” Her mother came toward her and touched her arm, looking at her with the warmth and care that had always made Gwen feel loved and protected. “No more Mr. Tremblay,” she said firmly. “Though, now we are back to searching for a dancing master.”
“Do I really need one?” Gwen asked.
Her mother arched a brow, her expression wry. “After last night?”
Gwen laughed. “I will never be perfect, Mama, but I am passable. And gentlemen are asking me to dance and calling on me.”
“Yes, and it is wonderful.” She fell silent a moment, then her eyes lit as if an idea had struck. “I wonder if Lord Somerton might be persuaded to practice dancing with you. He was so kind to help by paying you attention. Perhaps he would lend his assistance to aiding you with the waltz. You danced it marvelously with him at the Phoenix Club ball.”
The idea of Lazarus being her dancing instructor was both madly appealing and highly laughable. He would never agree, not after what had happened yesterday and at the salon. “I don’t think he’d want to do that,” Gwen said. “Anyway, he’s done enough, and I’m sure he has better things to do.” Saying that stung, renewing the ache Gwen had carried since they’d parted yesterday.
“We could at least ask,” her mother said with a light shrug. “I’ll see if Evan can speak with him—a favor between friends.”
“Please don’t, Mama.” Gwen couldn’t imagine what Lazarus would say, and she didn’t want to put him in the awkward position of having to decline.
“Why not? He helped you before.”
“I would just rather not. Besides, how would that even work? He would be seen coming to our house, and I’ve just spent the last few days telling people we don’t suit.”
Her mother cocked her head. “I did notice that and wondered why you thought it was necessary.”
“Actually, it was Somerton’s idea. He thought it would be most beneficial for me if I was the one who decided we didn’t suit.”
“That was most clever of him. He really has been incredibly helpful. But if you would prefer we not ask him to practice dancing with you, I will not. I hope you might reconsider, however. I’m sure we can come up with a scheme for you to dance. Perhaps you can meet at someone else’s house. Someone with whom you are both well acquainted.”
Gwen pressed her lips together lest she smile or laugh. “I will consider it, Mama, but I doubt I will change my mind.”
“I am sorry about Mr. Tremblay,” her mother said. “After what you told me, I’m surprised he’s been so highly recommended.”
“I can’t begin to imagine why.” Perhaps he hadn’t behaved that way with his other students. Gwen struggled to believe that.
“Well, that much is settled—you are finished with Mr. Tremblay.” She gave Gwen a nod and a smile, then left.
Gwen went to her desk to finish the reading exercise that she’d started last night for Lazarus. It was a rather romantic poem by John Donne. She hoped he wasn’t already familiar with it, but that was the chance they took by no longer meeting in person.
As she sat down to work, she thought of Lazarus dancing with her. If tutoring him had resulted in kissing, what would dancing do?
