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“We’re in a large, basically empty room,” Phoebe said from the piano. “There’s no point in whispering, I can hear everything.”
Pandora turned to flee, but Gabriel moved to block her.
“You’re going to try this with me,” he told her.
“What is the matter with you?” Pandora demanded. “If you deliberately tried to come up with the most unpleasant, embarrassing, frustrating activity for me to attempt in my currently unstable emotional condition, it would be waltzing.” Fuming, she looked at Phoebe and spread her palms upward, as if to ask what could be done with such an impossible human being.
Phoebe gave her a commiserating glance. “We have two perfectly nice parents,” she said. “I have no idea how he turned out this way.”
“I want to teach you how my parents learned to waltz,” Gabriel told Pandora. “It’s slower and more graceful than the current fashion. There are fewer turns, and the steps are gliding rather than springing.”
“It doesn’t matter how many turns there are. I can’t even do one turn.”
Gabriel’s expression was unyielding. Clearly he didn’t intend to let her leave the drawing room until she humored him.
Fact #99 Men are like chocolate bonbons. The ones with the most attractive outsides have the worst fillings.
“I won’t push you too hard,” he said gently.
“You’re pushing me too hard right now!” Pandora found herself trembling with outrage. “What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.
Her pulse was pounding in her ears, nearly obscuring his quiet murmur. “I want you to trust me.”
To Pandora’s horror, the tears that wouldn’t come earlier now threatened to burst out. She swallowed repeatedly and willed them back, and stiffened against the caress of his hand at her waist. “Why don’t you trust me?” she asked bitterly. “I’ve already told you this is impossible, but apparently I have to prove it. Very well. I’m not afraid of ritual humiliation: I’ve survived three months of the London Season. I’ll stumble through a waltz for your amusement, if that’s what it takes to be rid of you.”
She dragged her gaze to Phoebe. “I might as well tell you: my father boxed my ears when I was younger, and now one ear is mostly deaf and I have no balance.”
To her relief, Phoebe didn’t look pitying, only concerned. “That’s appalling.”
“I just wanted you to know there’s a reason my dancing resembles the flailing of a demented octopus.”
Phoebe gave her a slight, reassuring smile. “I like you, Pandora. Nothing will change that.”
Some of Pandora’s anguished shame faded, and she took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Reluctantly she turned back to Gabriel, who didn’t look one bit sorry for what he was doing to her. The corners of his mouth tipped in an encouraging curve as he reached for her.
“Don’t smile at me,” Pandora said. “I’m angry at you.”
“I know,” he said gently. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re going to be even sorrier when I heave-ho all over your shirtfront.”
“It’s worth the risk.” Gabriel slid his right hand over her left shoulder blade, the tips of his long fingers reaching her spine. Reluctantly Pandora assumed the waltz position she’d been taught, resting her left hand on his upper arm.
“No, put it directly on my shoulder,” he said. At her hesitation, he added, “It will give you more support.”
Pandora let him arrange her in a closed hold position, with her right hand clasped in his left. As they faced each other, she couldn’t help remembering those moments of being lost in the darkness, when his arms had closed around her and he’d whispered, Nothing’s going to harm you, my sweet girl. How could that man have changed into this heartless fiend?
“Shouldn’t we stand farther apart?” she asked, staring miserably at his chest.
“Not for this style of waltzing. Now, on the first count, as I start the turn, step forward with your right, so your foot is between mine.”
“But I’ll trip you.”
“Not if you follow my lead.” He nodded to Phoebe to begin playing, and slowly he guided Pandora through the first rotation. “Instead of an even one-two-three count, the third step will be a long glide, like this.”
Stiffly Pandora tried to move with him. She stumbled, stepped on his foot and made an exasperated sound. “Now I’ve maimed you.”
“Let’s try again.”
Gabriel led her through the pattern of the waltz, which was indeed different from the usual repetitive circles. In the first measure, they completed only three-quarters of a turn, followed by a closed change in the next measure, and then three-quarters of a turn in the other direction. It was a beautiful gliding pattern, and no doubt it was very graceful when executed correctly. But as soon as they went into a turn, Pandora lost all sense of up and down, and the room spun. She clutched at him in panic.
Gabriel stopped and held her steady.
“You see?” Pandora asked breathlessly. “Everything tilts, and I start to fall.”
“You weren’t falling. You only felt like you were.” He reached over to press her palm more firmly against his shoulder. “Feel how sturdy that is? Feel my hand on your back, and my arms around you? Forget your sense of balance and use mine. I’m rock-solid. I won’t let you fall.”
“It’s impossible to ignore what my own senses are telling me, even when they’re wrong.”