Chapter Eleven #2
Berry was too innocent to realize what she was experiencing was passion. It had her completely out of sorts.
Miranda arched an eyebrow as she played the waltz on the pianoforte, obviously warning him to stick his prowess back in his breeches and just dance.
She was right. What he was doing to Berry was not fair. She was a kitten. He was a big, bad dragon.
But he was not unaffected, either. Bolts of lightning shot through him as he held Berry in his arms.
He never wanted to let her go.
His heart was pounding and fire tore through him.
She was talking to him, but he hardly heard a thing for the hot roar of blood rushing through his veins and clogging his ears.
Blessed saints.
He would ride through the jaws of death to hold Berry in his arms like this every night of his life.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked, frowning when he did not immediately respond.
He nodded. “We move in a circle.”
“And?”
“Step forward with the left foot. Then a step to the side with the right foot. Then bring the left foot even with the right. Isn’t this what I was doing?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I did not think you were listening. You seemed a thousand miles away just now.”
“I am right here.” Beside her, where he ached to belong. “What’s next?”
“Then we step backward with the right foot. Then to the side with left foot. And bring the right foot to the left. This completes the box and we start over again.”
Perhaps he and Bonham should not have mastered the steps so quickly, for Berry soon declared success and wanted to move on to teach them something she called the Boulangere. It sounded like another of those dances that would entail more hopping about like a rabbit.
Bonham suggested that he and Gideon ought to waltz with Gwendolyn and Gwenys, because wasn’t it rude to leave them out? And did Gwenys not need to practice the art of the waltz, too?
Berry gasped. “Yes, of course. How neglectful of me! Never mind about the Boulangere. We shall leave it for another day.”
Gideon and Bonham shared a waltz with Gwendolyn and Gwenys, and then Berry played the pianoforte while Miranda danced with Gideon.
“You are a cad, you know that,” Miranda whispered in his ear. “She was melting in your arms.”
He nodded. “I know, but I will never hurt Berry. I give you my oath.”
This seemed to mollify her.
However, Gideon took her warning to heart. There was a very strong attraction between him and Berry, one he would have acted upon were he anyone of rank.
But he wasn’t. He could not encourage these feelings beyond this harmless dance.
As the clock struck noon, he and Bonham bade the ladies farewell.
“Shall we resume the lessons tomorrow?” Berry asked, her gaze hopeful.
“I don’t know if I shall have the time,” he said. “Haven’t I learned enough?”
She bit her fleshy lower lip, once again sending flames shooting through his veins. “You’ve only learned the two basic dances. You really ought to learn the Boulangere and the Sir Roger de Coverly, too. These four dances at a minimum.”
Against his better judgment, he agreed. “Bonham and I will meet you here at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. All right?”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s perfect.”
He and Bonham strode back to his house.
“Gideon…”
“Don’t say it. No, it cannot be real. This can only be a dream for us.”
“But the Earl of Stanhope invited you to his ball.”
“And will likely suffer for his kindness. You’ll see.”
“I hate those people,” Bonham said with a growl.
Gideon laughed. “You are falling in love with one of those people. What you hate is that you are as good as they are but they will never believe it or accept you. I exclude the ladies on Duchess Square, of course. They are the kindest people I have ever met. But their acceptance is actually worse. It makes us believe that happiness is within our grasp. Do not be fooled. It is not.”
Bonham raked a hand through his hair. “I think Suzanna might reciprocate my feelings.”
“And what do you think her parents will say when she brings you home? You grew up in an orphanage and made your fortune owning gaming hells. Do you think they will allow this for their daughter?”
“No,” he said morosely. “I suppose it is even worse for you because Berry’s standing in Society is so high.”
Gideon nodded. “And my circumstances are so low. Same orphanage and same gaming hells as you.”
“Right, and you are the majority owner in all of them.”
“I am only fifty-one percent to your forty-nine percent share. We could have been fifty-fifty partners. We should be.”
“No, you have the better instincts. I don’t ever want to be in a position to block your decisions.
I know they will always be made with the best intent for both of us.
More important, if I am gone, then I do not want any of my heirs able to interfere with your decisions.
End of discussion, Gideon. You will not change my mind about this. ”
“All right.” Although Gideon still did not agree with his friend’s point of view. They were both dumb orphans, were they not? They had both put their hearts and souls into building something for themselves, had they not?
They walked back into his house and inspected what the painters had done. Then Bonham walked Gideon to his carriage. “So, what now? Are you going to go back to escorting Chloe and Jasmine? Accepting advances from the highborn ladies gambling at the Musket Club?”
Gideon shook his head. “None of that. I’ll probably turn into a monk for a while. Maybe forever.”
Bonham grunted. “Feeling the same way myself. Your house is coming along nicely, though.”
Gideon laughed. “See you later. Try not to wreck the plumbing.”
Upon returning to his club, Gideon completed tabulating the accounts, and then rode with Joss to the other gaming hells to do the same and check the inventory.
He spent the evening also doing spot checks on the various clubs, something Bonham usually took care of, but he had been busy guarding Gideon’s house.
It was well into the wee hours of the morning by the time he returned to the Musket Club and slipped up the back stairs to his bedchamber. All he needed was a solid three or four hours of sleep and he would be refreshed for the morning and his next dance lesson with Berry.
His decision to remain a monk, to have no one but her ever share his bed, had significant drawbacks.
The first was that Berry was unlikely to ever share his bed.
The second was that his knowing he would likely never touch her in any intimate way made him think of nothing but touching her intimately.
Indeed, he was trying hard not to think about her.
But there was just something about her body that shot heat through him at the mere sight of her, at every time he touched her. His dreams these past few nights had been filled with fantasies of putting his mouth to her soft skin and tasting her on his tongue.
She would banish him for life if she knew what ran through his mind.
“Bah,” he muttered, needing to fall asleep and not dwell on her, nor dream about the glorious shape of her bosom or her long, slender legs.
He was serious about reforming his ways, for he meant to be true to Berry, and stay true to her until every last glimmer of hope she might one day be his was extinguished.
Why would he want anyone else when she was perfection?
Especially her breasts, which were ripe and round, although one could not tell by looking at her from the back.
Her shoulders were not at all broad. He could easily span the width of her back with one hand.
But when she turned to face him, there were those splendid mounds that were delightfully prominent compared to the slenderness of her hips and legs.
Perfection.
He awoke aroused, fortunately before Horace bustled in to ready him for the morning. He took care of his necessaries…all his necessaries, and had finished addressing his urges and washing up by the time there came a knock at his door.
He wrapped a towel around his naked torso. “Come in.”
Horace marched in with bundles in hand. Polished boots. A cleaned and pressed jacket.
“Let me shave you. You look like a mountain troll with that dark stubble of beard,” Horace remarked.
“You’ll scratch Lady Berry’s cheek if you get too close with those bristles.
And here’s a crisp lawn shirt for you to wear.
Now, for the cravat. This teal green with the light-gray swirls for today, I think.
And this dark-green jacket. Buff breeches.
Lady Berry will not be able to resist you. ”
“No, that’s bad. I am not trying to seduce her.”
Horace rolled his eyes. “If she responds to you the way you respond to her, then it is too late for both of you. Just get naked and enjoy the inevitable.”
“Go away, Horace. Seriously, I’ll shave myself. Nobody’s clothes are coming off.”
“If you say so. I give it a week before your resolve breaks. Do not forget that I am not long out of the orphanage myself. I’ve seen Lady Berry in action, walking the halls, reading to the little ones, and chatting with the older orphans.
Her smile is a ray of sunshine upon that gray place, and she is cute as a button, isn’t she?
She even rouses my manly urges, and you know how improbable that is. ”
Gideon tried not to laugh because he did not want to encourage his wayward valet. “Horace, go away.”
“I’ll shave you first. As I said, mountain troll.” Horace bustled out and returned with more clothes in a bundle. “These are for Mr. Bonham. If he’s to be taking dance lessons, too, then he needs to look the part of a proper gentleman. I packed soap and fresh shaving gear for him.”
“He’ll appreciate that.”
Gideon headed over to Duchess Square early, since Bonham would need time to get himself ready. Also, Gideon wanted to check on the progress of the painting and scout out the square to make certain Hawthorne or one of his lackeys was not lurking there.