Page 9

She did not stammer. Or hadn’t until this moment. But when Mr. Terramier wrapped his long fingers around her arm, her tongue thickened to thrice its normal size and seemed incapable of forming words.

“Giving you a lesson.” His smile broadened with something akin to primal satisfaction. His impressive back to the others, the scoundrel winked.

The knave actually winked.

Chasity had the distinct impression a dance lesson was not what he referred to, and she fought to keep her face serene and not jerk her arm free. Painfully aware of the many pairs of eyes avidly watching her and Mr. Terramier, she whispered, “I cannot dance with you.”

“Of course, you can,” came his glib, wholly unapologetic reply as he led her to the front of the room. “Who can object to a harmless lesson?”

Again, the odd inflection on the word.

The heat of his palm burned through the fabric of her sensible gown, branding her. When she disrobed tonight, she wouldn’t be at all surprised to find the outline of a palm print upon her flesh. She cast a hasty glance toward the other teachers and immediately regretted the impulse.

Open hostility or betrayal etched deep lines into their aging faces.

Oh dear.

Prepared to give him a set-down, Chasity turned her face upward to meet his scintillating chocolate-eyed gaze. And promptly forgot what she was about to say.

“You do know how to waltz, do you not, Miss Noble?”

No, Werner, I cannot assist you. Unlike you, I actually work for a living, and I shan’t waste my hard-earned coin to remedy your feckless, irresponsible conduct. This time you cannot shift the blame to me for your behavior. Your penchant for whoring, racing, and gambling has landed you in your dire predicament.

I suggest you appeal to our grandfather for the funds you require to pay your debts. I also advise you in the future to not borrow money from known captain sharks.

~ Aston Terramier in a letter to his cousin, Werner Terramier

Sent but intercepted by Viscount Woolbury

Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies’ ballroom

Thirty extremely awkward seconds later

“Of course, I know how to waltz, Mr. Terramier. However, as assistant headmistress, it is hardly proper for me to do so,” Miss Noble hissed beneath her breath. “I must consider appearances.”

Her argument held no merit, and they both knew it.

If Mrs. Crenshaw could practice with the dance master, no one could find fault for Miss Noble doing so as well. She fashioned a weak smile and sent it toward the glowering teachers. When their hardened countenances didn’t soften a jot, Aston realized his mistake.

Blister and blast.

He’d put Miss Noble in an untenable position. As the only beauty among her peers and the youngest in a position of authority, she’d already roused their envy. Aston’s yielding to a selfish urge to hold her in his arms also made her a target of their jealousy.

Flashing his most disarming smile, he took in the other women one by one. He kept his attention on each instructor, waiting until pleased color suffused her cheeks or she bashfully dropped her gaze before he moved to the next. He well knew how to charm a lady into doing his bidding, though he was loath to do so under false pretenses.

Nonetheless, in this case, he had little recourse. He must diffuse the other teachers’ antagonism.

“I shall begin today’s instructions with the most basic waltz. However, I feel for the students to properly grasp the elegance, precision, and subtle complexities of the waltz’s steps, as well as the various types of popular waltzes, I shall need to demonstrate with each instructor who is willing to indulge me today and Wednesday. And, if necessary, next week as well. We shall not move on to the allemande until the students have mastered the waltz to my satisfaction.”

That brought little forgiving nods of approval from the teachers and envious sighs from the older students. If Aston wasn’t a dashed good dance master and if he didn’t enjoy dancing so much himself, he’d abandon the occupation in a thrice.

Well, and if he didn’t need the funds to support himself. Hopefully, the venture he’d recently invested in would prove prosperous, and he could consider putting his career as a dance master behind him.

He’d need to find something else to aggravate his grandfather, however, else the man would have nothing to do with his days. Viscount Woolbury was happiest when in high dudgeon. Only, Aston suspected Werner might be graying what few hairs remained on their grandfather’s pate.

Summoning a smile, Aston tilted his head toward the teachers. “Ladies? If you would be so kind.”

Momentarily appeased, the other instructors took their places, supervising the two lines of eager students.