Free The Wife He Always Wanted by Cheryl Ann Smith Page B

were a waste of time: her posture, her foot placement, her failure to learn even the most basic instructions.
    Sarah looked up at the ceiling where candles flickered in the chandelier and tried not to take insult with his rant.
    The seldom-used ballroom had been aired out for the lessons, and Sarah was wearing a new cream frock and slippers. Yet, not even pretty clothes could change the fact that she hadn’t the expertise to pull off even a simple country dance with any sort of grace.
    She
was
an ox.
    Perplexed by all the steps required for dancing, she was about to beg off the rest of her lesson when a flash of blue by the door caught her eye. Her heart dropped. Gabriel, dressed in a deep blue coat, had a fist to his mouth, his eyes alight, watching his mother and the instructor arguing over whether Mister Robicheau could use his immense talents—Lady Seymour’s words—to bring Sarah up to snuff.
    When the man was ready to call the day a waste of time, Lady Seymour offered to double his fee, and his voice changed instantly from annoyed to compliant.
    “Perhaps Mrs. Harrington could learn a simple dance,” he said, albeit reluctantly. His pinched expression softened a bit.
    Excellent. Her husband was witness to her failure.
    She glanced at Noelle, who tapped a finger under her own chin. Sarah nodded, squelched the desire to run and hide, and jerked up her chin. Noelle indicated her approval.
    “Shall we try again, Mrs. Harrington?” The dance master gingerly extended his hand.
    “Please. Allow me.” Gabriel pushed away from the doorjamb and strolled over. He waved a hand at the dance master. Mister Robicheau took a quick side step to avoid being trod upon by him. “I would like to dance with my wife.”
    Sarah’s eyes widened. “I—I am not ready.”
    “Nonsense.” He took her hand and his eye twinkled. “Even an ox can manage a few steps of the waltz.” He looked over at the violinist brought by Robicheau and the music began again.
    Lud. He
had
seen her disgrace. His teasing did nothing to settle her nerves. Damaging his toes would not further her efforts to make him see her as an acceptable wife.
    Unfortunately, she was trapped. “Watch your feet, Husband,” she said and let him lead her into the center of the floor. He took her into his strong arms. She shivered.
    “How much have you learned about the waltz?” he asked.
    “I understand the basic steps,” she said, defeated. “The execution fails me.”
    Gabriel leaned down. His spicy scent warmed her. “Robicheau is an impatient toad,” he whispered. “Now that you have a real partner, let us see what we can accomplish.”
    With that, Gabriel led her slowly through the steps while she clung to his shoulder for balance. There was toe trodding, though his suffering was not nearly as onerous as what she’d imposed on the instructor. After a half hour or so, Sarah realized she’d gone a full circle around the ballroom without faltering. She suspected it was his skill and the confident way he held her in his unyielding embrace that saved her from making a fool of herself.
    “Excellent performance, Mrs. Harrington,” Gabriel said. He twirled her around. She wobbled but kept upright.
    Sarah beamed and curtsied. “Thank you, Mister Harrington.” They took another turn around the room. This time she felt more relaxed and even managed to look into his smiling eyes while he led her and not at her clumsy feet.
    Noelle and Lady Seymour clapped. Even Mister Robicheau appeared to concede that she’d done the impossible. It was difficult to read his thoughts when scowling was his expression of choice.
    Just as her confidence welled, she stepped on his toe again, drawing laughter all around.
    “You have done well, my dear,” Gabriel said. “By the time you debut at your first ball, you shall be a fine dancer.” He stopped her near his mother and bent into a sweeping bow. “Alas, I have a meeting that I’m already late for. I shall leave you to your