Hi everyone,
sorry this was late but I've been travelling back from France and wow what an amazing time i've had.
But in the car for 8 hours means I had no chance to do this, so here we are. A wee tease from a WIP that my or may not become a full blown book (but I hope it does)
Working title The Duke and The Dancer (Regency)
A club for unconventional
females?
Never! The ton would be
scandalised.
However, that didn’t matter to
the members. They weren’t ton material.
As for scandal?
It was their middle name.
Chapter
One
“I think M’sieur your request is
unusual and perhaps unacceptable.” Why on earth was she so outraged? And why
when she was in a temper did her Gallic ancestry appear so strongly? She might
be named Celine Bouvier, and have a French father—a Compte who sadly did not
survive the revolution, and hadn’t known he was about to become a father—but
she thought of herself as Scottish. Her mama, the former Catriona Sempill, born
in Peebles, and now one Lady McAlpine, of Castle Foil, would laugh and shake
her head at that, and insist her papa’s side was strongest, but Celine had her
doubts. After all, the only papa she knew was a Scottish laird. He—Duncan—also
had a fiery temper, and she was convinced she had absorbed that from the man
she adored. Nevertheless, wherever she had
got it from, never before had she experienced such an instant and hot surge of
anger as she did over the Duke of Anster’s suggestion.
Which she allowed, was not so
unreasonable in the circumstances.
“It is not convenable.” Lud what
did she sound like? Worse than even the most starchiest of the grand dames. So
not like her normal unstuffy self. However what he asked for was ridiculous.
Scary and impossible.
“I can not do it,” Celine added
for emphasis. “Do-dhèanta.” Strange how when riled
she used the language of her adopted homeland.
He raised one dark eyebrow, in
supposed incredulity. “Will not or can not?”
“Either. Both. It is not
possible.”
Has
no one ever denied him anything before? Somehow she doubted it.
“To dance for me? In private?
Surely you are wrong,” he drawled, every inch the aristocrat he undoubtedly was.
His voice gave her the most
peculiar sensation, deep inside her body. Almost as if it was daring her to
unwind, let herself be temped and...
And
nothing. I can
not, and will not let him tempt me.
To tempt what she had no idea but the way her
nerves were dancing and the fine hairs on her arm stood on end it wasn’t to
read out aloud from an book to improve your mind.
“Non,” she said again. This time
she hoped she sounded as if she meant it.
“Oh I think you are wrong.” There
was that hint of a challenge once more.
Damn
him.
“After all that is your job is it
not? As a dancer, here in this establishment you are employed to dance for the
customers. I am a customer; you are the entertainment. They are the facts.”
There was little she could answer. No Sir, I am not a dancer, but the
bookkeeper, who stood in for a friend who has la grippe and the owner, Madame
Solange, my friend was in a panic? That wouldn’t show the club up in a good
light. The last thing she wanted to do was damage the club’s reputation, but
she knew her limits. To be for want of a better word, brazen, was not in her
psyche.
Somehow, however, to dance to one
person, in private didn’t sit well with her. It had been hard enough to dress
in Mary’s costume and perform with the other girls, even though she had learned
the routines for fun and exercise. It wasn’t always easy in the capital to get
out and walk her fidgets off, and an energetic dance class worked almost as
well.
It was a pity he was so
personable, and also it seemed so intractable. The man appeared to be
uninterested in her protestations. Almost Celine decided as if he asked her just
to see what her reaction would be.
Her mind went into panic mode. The
closure of the club. Solange and her husband destitute! All the girls cast out
onto the street or working somewhere seedy. All because of her.
But then, a solo dance would
surely show her up for the fraud she was anyway, so was that any better? Especially
as these private entertainments had no music. The music was supposed to be in
the dancer’s head.
Lord what a fix she was in.
Carch all the other #SexySnippets posts
