After that, everyone did.
Longstaffe stared at the ceiling. “I had forgotten how insufferable you are.”
Gideon offered him a hand. “Because you underestimate me.”
“My mistake.” But he rose, dusted himself off, and the lesson began in earnest.
They started with a simple hold, the same one Gideon had taught Beatrice to twist out of during her first lesson. Nothing dramatic. Nothing grand.
Except it was grand, in its own way.
Miss Finch, who had looked near tears when Gideon first took her wrist, broke free on her third attempt and stared at her own hand as though it had performed witchcraft.
Lady Theodosia required only two corrections before she began asking whether the same principle applied if someone seized one’s upper arm.
Lark laughed every time she failed, then succeeded so suddenly she nearly toppled into Longstaffe.
Persephone was quiet at first. Careful. But when she broke Gideon’s grip cleanly, delight flashed across her face.
“Oh,” she said. “That was not difficult.”
“No,” Gideon said. “It merely required knowing where to move.”
By the end of the first hour, nervousness had given way to flushed cheeks, untidy hair, and laughter. The ladies practiced with one another. Then with Gideon. Then Longstaffe. They failed, adjusted, tried again.
And improved.
Beatrice ought to have been wholly pleased.
She was pleased. Mostly.
But Gideon did not come near her.
He corrected Lark’s angle with a light touch at her wrist. Adjusted Lady Theodosia’s stance. Spoke softly to Persephone when she hesitated. Even Miss Harcourt received a brief, approving smile that left her visibly steadier.
Beatrice received instruction from Longstaffe.
Repeatedly.
It was ridiculous to be annoyed. Longstaffe was large, capable, and perfectly useful. Also increasingly difficult each time she escaped his grasp, which she supposed was the point.
But Gideon did not take her wrist. Nor did he murmur encouragement in that low, careful voice meant only for her.
Once, she caught him watching from across the room.
Their eyes met.
For a breath, the ballroom seemed to still.
Then he turned to answer Lady Calliope’s question.
Beatrice’s jaw tightened. This was absurd.
Entirely absurd.
She had not formed this society in order to receive Gideon Rothmore’s attention.
By the final quarter hour, the ladies were no longer merely enduring the lesson. They were flushed and laughing, and when Gideon suggested they end there, a chorus of objections rose at once.
