He pulled off his velvet coat and tossed it aside, then did the same with his shoes. He thought he might dance for her. He didn’t know why he suddenly had such a thought. He wanted to dance for her to show her who he really was. At least a small part, but a vital one, nonetheless.
And that’s what frightened him. Why did he want to show her? Why did it suddenly matter?
“What kind of dancing did you perform?” he asked her, wanting to know more about her, despite what his head was shrieking at him.
“Contemporary dance,” she told him, then explained. “It’s rooted in ballet with more modern movements. The same things are important like clarity of line, and from what I’ve seen, your lines are beautiful even in the most grotesque way.”
He couldn’t help but smile but he turned away when he did…and looked straight at Harper who had entered the hall carrying her violin.
“Who is this extraordinary woman that brings a smile to my precious boy’s face?” she said in a quiet voice, close to him.
He let his smile linger for another instant on his dearest friend, then turned in the direction of Miss Darling.
“Teach me.”
She laughed and shook the foundations of his body. He almost laughed with her. What in blazes—
“Teach you contemporary? No, no, I can’t.”
“Why can’t you? You don’t have to dance. Just teach me the steps.”
“It’s the movement too,” she added and turned to Harper when she began playing her violin.
“Yes?” he urged.
“It’s…it’s interpretation and expression…and…um…freedom.”
“Teach me,” he asked, lowering his voice and his gaze to hers. “Please.”
“Maybe it’s better if we don’t…I’ll return to Will. I’m sure he’ll—”
He sighed. He’d heard enough and did three pirouettes away from her. Of course, he’d let her leave if she wanted to go. She wasn’t a prisoner. She was correct. They shouldn’t spend so much time together. If he wasn’t strong enough to suggest it, he was glad she was. Why did she? Was she beginning to feel something for him? His belly flipped. Mayhap he was ill, and these flips and flurries were part of his malady. He looked at Harper. Should he tell her? She would get him feeling well again.
While he twirled on the balls of his feet, he bent forward and then down to his spinning foot and brought his other leg straight up. A classic penché, but he gave it depth and meaning when he brought his shoulders up, and keeping his body parallel to his legs, folded his arms across his chest and then used his graceful hands to indicate him pouring something out of them. Head back, his eyes half closed, he let himself go. He brought his foot down and turned his knees out, contracting his chest, then puffing it out. He raised his hands to his chest again and this time, flicked his wrists, turning his fingers upward on one hand and down on the other. Alternating each position to the shrilling cries of the violin, he turned his face left, then to the right to show her a big part of his childhood. Being beat up by Harry Gable and Timothy Cavendish, and a few others. Leaping into a tour en l’air, or a turn in the air, he thought of how Miss Darling stirred him and how vulnerable it made him feel. He landed on both feet, covering his face with his forearms. Then, his arms fell limp and his head slumped over.
The music stopped.
He didn’t open his eyes for a moment while he gathered his control. Sometimes it wasn’t easy. This was one of those times. He wanted to keep dancing—but for himself. He needed to release these volatile emotions, or they would erupt.
“That was outstanding,” his guest complimented when he walked back to her. “And troublesome.”
“Why troublesome?”
Instead of answering right away, she crossed her arms over her chest as if in defense of what she was about to tell him. “I understood what you were saying.”
He couldn’t remember another time in his life when he felt his bones melt like butter in the sun. He wanted to run from her effect on him. He didn’t ever want to trust someone again only for her to leave him…and possibly to the same place the other two women in his life had gone.
He held up his index finger and cast her a playful grin. “Miss Darling, we talked about you saying such things in public.”
“We’re not in public,” she countered. “One like your mother is here.”
He looked toward Harper. One like his mother? No. Harper hadn’t left him. But she’d kept the truth from him. She knew his future this entire time. She likely knew where his mother was. He pulled his glance away. He’d trusted her.
He felt her coming toward him, moving closer. He breathed deep and closed his eyes.
“Grayson, I still won’t leave your side,” Harper said tenderly. “You’re stuck with me.”
He didn’t look at her or answer her but remained with his eyes closed.