Preshea was moved to be cruel; no one bare-faced her into verbal surrender. “Oh, I think you do. Next time you relocate late at night, may I suggest you leave the candle behind?”
“Oh!” Lady Flo dropped her tambour and put a hand to her mouth, crimson with humiliation.
Miss Pagril’s eyes narrowed. “What do you intend to do?”
Preshea sighed. She had always known she was bad at female friendships. She seemed unable to stop herself from sabotaging them. “Do? Nothing.”
“What do you want from us to keep silent?” Miss Pagril’s tone was forcibly casual, her implication insulting.
Preshea’s lip curled. “I’m not interested in blackmailing children. You’ve nothing to offer me that I could possibly want. You mistake my meaning. I merely wish to encourage caution. If you insist on reckless behavior, don’t be stupid about it.”
“How kind.” Miss Pagril’s voice was icy.
Lady Flo picked up her embroidery, face now white. “Jane, don’t.”
“I take it you approve, then?” Miss Pagril was made of sterner stuff.
The girl was asking for Preshea’s thoughts on aberrant sexual choices. Preshea, to be honest, had none. She’d never been asked to use her wiles on another woman, and did not feel the inclination herself. Since the matter had no bearing on her, personally or professionally, she’d given it no thought at all. But she refused to sanction the bumbling of an amateur sneak, so she willfully misinterpreted the question.
“Certainly not. Your form is terrible. Your execution atrocious. I could hear your footfalls before I even topped the stairs.”
Lady Blingchester joined them at that moment. “To what are you referring, Lady Villentia? Is that criticism I hear?”
Without pause, Preshea said smoothly, “Miss Pagril’s form at the waltz. Very poor.”
Lady Blingchester sniffed. “Well, of course it is – she’s not permitted the waltz! Too risqué. But how should you know to comment?”
“I saw the young ladies waltzing together down the hallway the other evening. Really, Your Grace, Lady Blingchester, your girls may not be allowed to waltz, but I assure you the dance is here to stay. They should at least know how to do it gracefully, in case of emergency.”
The Duchess of Snodgrove had joined the conversation. “Waltz emergency?”
“We are in safe quarters here – perhaps a lesson?” Preshea was nothing if not a mistress of diversion.
The duchess flipped open her fan and fluttered it about. “Oh, I don’t think…”
Preshea smiled. “I shall demonstrate, if one of the gentlemen would oblidge me? The two young ladies may dance with each other and Lady Violet with her brother. Thus, no impropriety could possibly occur. If Miss Leeton would honor us with a tune?”
Although the chaperones clucked in mild disapproval, the young people seemed to find dancing a wonderful idea (anything to relieve the monotony). The furniture was pushed back.
“I will help demonstrate, Lady Villentia.” Mr Jackson bounced forward.
Gavin stopped him. “You’re a gruesome waltzer, lad. Think on the corruption inherent in your example.”
Mr Jackson laughed, not at all upset by the criticism. Since his ladylove was off limits in this endeavor, he allowed the truth in Gavin’s words. “Go on, then, Ruthven. Don’t let him fool you, Lady Villentia. He’s a pirouetting fool, for all he looks like a water buffalo.”
Gavin snorted, not unlike said buffalo, and scooped Preshea into waltz position.
Until that moment, Preshea hadn’t understood how intimate the waltz really was. In Gavin’s arms, she finally comprehended the fuss. She was surrounded by his warmth, steadied under his massive hands, forced to look into his blue eyes.
Lord Lionel took Lady Violet into his arms, joking in a brotherly way. The two young ladies, after some debate, settled on Miss Pagril leading and Lady Flo following. Preshea wondered if this was representative of any other aspect of their relationship.
Miss Leeton plunked out a waltz. Preshea called instructions while Gavin demonstrated the steps. It was a simple dance and Jack had not overblown his friend’s abilities. Gavin was an excellent partner.
The others picked it up easily. It was a sedate affair with the eyes of all fixed upon them.
Preshea was brutally aware of the feel of Gavin’s hand through the clothing at her back. Of the smell of him – musky and spicy and male. Not threatening. Even with his size, she felt no fear. He held her comfortably, supportive, with no attempt to pull her closer than the prescribed distance, offering only guidance as they swirled about the small space.
Would he partner in all things like this? Preshea coldly stopped herself from that line of thinking. She had exposed her past to him last night so he would understand her choices. She hoped to prevent his falling in love with her. Foolishly, she had once told herself that she ought to break his heart. Now it was the last thing she wanted. She owed him something for showing her that passion between a man and a woman could be good and decent. She intended to pay him back by leaving him alone, and leaving him as intact as possible.
He would not be allowed to love her. Not if she had anything to do with it.
Lady Flo and Miss Pagril wafted by, casting frightened glances in her direction. Silly chits. Neither of them had thought to ask why Preshea had been outside her own room last night. Preshea had admitted to seeing Miss Pagril enter Lady Flo’s bedchamber, so she too must have been roaming. Lord save me from innocent girls with no professional training!