Page 36 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
“Your name. Is it short for Michael? Is that the name that was registered at your birth?”
“My birth wasn’t registered. My mum just called me Mick.”
She’d never given any thought to the fact that there were those for whom records were not kept. Her ancestry as well as Kip’s were charted back generations, their births heralded, applauded, blessed. While his had come about in secret and in disgrace. Suddenly it seemed wrong that any child should be looked upon with shame, as though it were responsible for its existence. “It’s a strong name.”
“I think it was Ettie Trewlove’s husband’s.”
“She’s a widow, then.”
“She is.”
“I’m sorry. It’s sad for a woman to lose her man.”
He nodded. “She didn’t marry him for property, title, position, or wealth, as he possessed none of those things. But he did possess her heart.”
She was touched by his words. She’d not expected such sentiments from him. “You’re a romantic, deep down.”
“No. A realist.”
“A realist who waltzes like a dream.” She couldn’t have spoken truer words. As he swept her over the floor, his movements were smooth, confident, poised. Never before had she been treated to such exceptional dancing. She had no fear he would step on her slippered feet. “Where did you learn?”
“From my first lover.”
A bubble of self-conscious laughter burst forth. She could scarcely believe he’d tossed out the words so matter-of-factly, as though discussing one’s paramours was not scandalous in the extreme. “Ah, I suppose I should appreciate the honesty.” Even if she didn’t want to think about him in the arms of another woman. “She liked to waltz, did she?”
“Not particularly. She was the widow of a duke, liked a bit of the rough, and I suited her purposes. The first time we came together, afterward, she offered me a quid, like I was a bloody whore.”
She fought not to look appalled, and yet she was. Not so much by his crude words, although no one had ever spoken to her so bluntly before, but that his actions had been viewed as a service by a lady of the nobility. She was equally appalled a lady of high standing would seek such services. Men had carnal needs. That was understood, accepted. But ladies were above all that. Or so she’d always thought. Perhaps her latest wanton musings were not without merit. “It must have hurt your pride.”
The words seem trite and stupid when voiced aloud. “I mean—”
“Don’t make a fuss over it. I told you, a woman’s passions are different from a child’s. She was a young widow with a great deal of pent-up appetites. She wanted things from me in the bed. I wanted things from her out of it. So we struck a deal. She taught me how to dress for the position I wanted in the world—not the one I held. How to address my betters—”
She couldn’t quite envision him thinking anyone was his better.
“—drink tea in a nobleman’s parlor, dine with a queen, waltz. In essence how to be a gentleman. I’ve yet to drink tea in a nobleman’s parlor or dine with the queen, but perhaps an opportunity will yet present itself. Just as tonight, this moment is the first time I’ve put her dancing tutelage into practice.”
He made her feel special in ways she hadn’t since her own introduction to the queen. “I’m honored. Why wait so long?”
“Because there was no one with whom I wished to dance.”
She nearly stumbled, might have, but his hold on her tightened fractionally, his gaze never wavering from hers. “A proper gentleman doesn’t say something like that to a lady who is betrothed,” she chastised.
“But I am not a proper gentleman.”
“Yet you claim to want to be one, and that involves more than tea, dining and dancing. It involves knowing what is proper to say to a lady and what is not.”
He bowed his head slightly. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. That was not my intent. It seems my lessons are lacking to some extent.”
She suspected he knew precisely what he was about, what was acceptable conversation and what was not. Still with no wish to insult him, she shook her head. “I may have overreacted. I’m not accustomed to harmless flirtation. From the moment I had my coming out, gentlemen knew I was spoken for, even if it wasn’t formally announced yet. When they danced with me, we usually discussed the weather.”
“They were idiots.”
“They were behaving as gentlemen. Did your lady friend not teach you the acceptable topics of conversations?”
“I could make you blush if I shared with you the topics we discussed.”
She should cease the discussion, yet she found herself intrigued by it. Kip never spoke to her about unsuitable subjects; he never spoke with her passionately, never made her blush with little more than an intense look, a smile, an innuendo. “I do hope you won’t try. I don’t blush prettily.”
