Page 43 of In a Rake's Embrace
“I had a good teacher,” she said softly, the heat of her gaze never leaving his.“I have been practicing for hours.”
“I daresay Agatha is a natural,” Rebecca murmured, a cool mocking in her gaze as she stared at him. “It took me a couple of days to reach where she is now.”
Agatha laughed. “It is a dance calledRaqs Sharqi.Madam learned it when she lived with her lover in Egypt a few years ago,” she said, her voice carrying a new, sultry confidence.“I love it.”
“I wanted Agatha to attend the naughty musicales I keep and do this performance to … whet the appetite of her bidders. However, she wants to leave this for the night of the auction. The men must only know they are in for anunparalleleddelight.”
The thought of the many eyes on her, hungering to have her beneath them, filled Thomas with a raw feeling that was completely unknown.
He cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the provocative dance and back to why he had come early. “I came to teach you the waltz.”
Madam Rebecca, who had been watching with mild amusement, turned her gaze on him, her brows lifting.
“Why does she need to learn the waltz?” she asked.
Agatha, her face still flushed, did a most unexpected twirl. “I am going to a society ball!”
Madam Rebecca’s head snapped toward her, then back to Thomas, her eyes wide with surprise. He knew what was going through her mind—he had never mixed his life here atAphroditewith his life in theton. The two worlds were always kept separate. The curiosity in Madam Rebecca’s gaze was palpable, but Thomas remained indifferent, staring back at her without revealing a single thought.
“I am here to teach you the waltz,” he said again, “Come on.”
Madam Rebecca’s mouth quirked into a slight smile. “Well then,” she said, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. “You should also play the flute for her next practice.”
“I will hire a master for that,” Thomas replied, his voice smooth, but a note of finalitysilenced further discussion. It was likely best if he wasn’t present when Agatha learned this dance.
“That will be quite expensive,” Rebecca said, though her smile widened as she realized what he meant.
In return, he lifted a single brow, and that was all the answer she needed. Rebecca nodded, understanding that Thomas would be covering the costs. She excused herself from the room with a light chuckle, leaving them alone.
Agatha smiled at him. “Are we going to dance here?”
“I would prefer my chambers or yours.”
Her eyes flickered with curiosity, but she remained silent as they left Madam Rebecca’s boudoir and walked down the hallway toward his private quarters. Her steps were slower, more hesitant, and Thomas noticed the pensive look on her face. They reached the door to his private room, and Agatha leaned back against it.
“Why are you helping me so much?”
“I already told you. I am a man who commits to a task wholeheartedly.”
She frowned, her lips parting as if debating her next words. “Is that all I am to you, then? Just a cause?”
He stiffened. “What else am I supposed to see you as?”
Agatha gave a small, almost playful shrug, her eyes holding a glimmer of something that made his chest tighten.
“Perhaps ... a friend.”
It wasn’t often someone tried to bridge that gap with him. He was used to keeping people at arm’s length, and they, understanding his reserve, kept their distance. Tupping and friendship did not mix. In his experience, it always led to unrealistic expectations he had never promised. “Friends?”
She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Have you ever thought that you’ll help prepare me to be the perfect lover ... for someone else? Does it trouble you in any regard?”
Her words hit him like a blow, a sharp, knife-like sensation twisting in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. The thought of her being with someone else—someone who would benefit from all the lessons he had given her—filled him with a sudden and inexplicable sense of possessiveness.
“No,” he said, his voice colder than he intended. “Why would it?”
“I was merely curious.” Agatha lowered her lashes, her expression unreadable, before she turned, opened the door and stepped into his room.
Thomas stood there for a moment, watching her disappear through the door, his jaw tightening. The knife in his chest remained, its sting sharper than he cared to admit. But with a deep breath, he pushed it away and followed her inside. A single lamp lit the room, casting soft shadows across the polished floor. Agatha stood in the center, waiting, her hands clasped before her. Thomas shook off the unsettling feeling and focused on the task at hand.
