Page 34 of The Duke's Promise to Her Child
The lady patroness crossed her arms and tapped her right foot on the floor, sending a quiet but unmistakable tap, tap, tap into the air.
“Very well,” Lord Henry said. He glared at Gideon. “Do not think that I will forget this.”
“I did offer to repeat the lesson,” Gideon said.
Lady Marlborough, all four foot eight of her, slipped between the two men with practiced efficiency, and Gideon immediately stepped back. She looked at him for a long moment. “I do not wish to have to return here,” she said. Then she looked briefly at Helena and swept away.
“Well,” Gideon said, turning to Helena. “That is … are you all right?”
“Yes,” Helena said. She had wrapped her arms around herself without quite noticing. “Nothing is the matter. I simply do not enjoy witnessing that manner of aggression.”
“Aggression?” He looked genuinely taken aback. “I beg your pardon that was not my intention. That young gentleman and I have an unfortunate history, and he said some things that were…”
She looked up. “About me?”
She was not sure why she immediately assumed the conversation had been about her, but he pressed his lips together, and she was all-a-mort for a moment. That was confirmation enough.
“I see.”
He shrugged. “It was a silly business. It has been dealt with. Now — shall we dance?”
She wanted to say no. She wanted to find Clara immediately so that the two of them could leave together. Her eyes swept the room in search of her, but Clara was nowhere to be seen. Besides — this was foolish. Gideon had not truly been aggressive. He had been angry, yes, but with cause. The other gentleman had been exceedingly rude.
And Gideon was not Huxley. She knew this. Every part of her knew it. But somewhere within her — perhaps at the very core of her — she could not quite shake the fear that even in someone as decent as Gideon, darkness might be buried, as it had been buried in Huxley.
Still, he offered his hand, and she could not very well refuse it. He was one of her only friends, after all. She took it, and together the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. He placed his hand at her waist as the waltz began.
“Even Almack’s plays the waltz now?” she asked.
He grinned and nodded. “Indeed, Almack’s does.”
The string quartet started and they fell into step. The unease that had settled in her slowly began to dissipate as he turnedher through the figures. People looked at them — some smiling, some with what she imagined was judgement.
“When were you last here?” she asked.
“When I was married,” he said. “My wife at the time wished to come, so I brought her.” He paused. “It was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“There was a certain gentleman that she met here that evening. A certain gentleman that she then left with.” He shrugged. “Let us not discuss it.”
She opened her lips, then closed them again. If he did not wish to discuss it, she would not press.
“I have been trying to teach Lavinia to say Gideon,” she said, “so that we do not run into any further trouble such as we did in the park.”
“And how is that going?”
“Thus far she can manage Giddy, or she can manage On. Connecting the two has proved rather a struggle.”
He laughed. “When I come next time, I shall try and teach her myself.”
She looked forward to that — but did not say so. It felt odd, telling him that she would look forward to seeing him. This was not a courtship. It was not even truly a friendship. It was an arrangement.
And yet it did not feel like one. It felt like something that wanted to be more, even though it was not.
It felt good to be in his arms. Safe. That was peculiar — she had promised herself she would never feel this way with another man. She had felt something like it once before, with Huxley, during their first two or three dances. But she was wrong to compare the two. They were nothing alike.
Gideon would remain in her life only as long as he was needed, and then he would be gone. He would continue charming ladies in the park. He would add to his legend all across town. He would laugh and dance and make his mark upon society — hopefully not only for his wandering ways, but for far more besides.
