A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) by Rebecca Paula Page B

Her mind, her mind was in another place altogether today. She missed her darling sister Grace.
    “Again, Miss Gibbons.”
    The instructor stalked over. “One, two, three. Fifth position, Miss Gibbons. One, two, three…”
    Minnie swallowed, her stomach fluttering under the hardened glare of the instructor. She was better than today, she was—
    A hand grabbed hers, hauling her forward. “If you insist on dancing solo, then here is your chance.”
    The violins quieted, and the other dancers stopped, their attention pinned to Minnie. She glanced nervously around the room, the instructor standing by her side.
    “You’re no ballerina. I’ve said that since the moment you stepped in this room for the audition. Now please, do dance for us. Entertain us since you’re so in love with the idea of being a coryphée .”
    He clapped his hands to a beat, the violin squeaky and hesitant to follow. Minnie stood paralyzed.
    “ Plié , Miss Gibbons. One, two, three…I said, plié .”
    Minnie sunk, her knees bending not from command, but from sensing her world was tipping forward once again. The other dancers softly murmured in front of her. She felt their disregard piling upon her as though they’d just thrown her in a ditch, burying her along with her dream.
    “ Arabesque . Good, assemblé .”
    His hands clapped in front of her face, adjusting her body roughly. He pulled and twisted, fisting her hair in his hand as he brought her round to meet his furious stare. “Your form is pathetic.”
    She straightened, freeing herself from his grip, her limbs now numb. Her heart thrummed against her chest as she briefly closed her eyes, unsteady as he called out more ballet positions as if she were a solider drilling.
    “ Grande Jeté , arms lengthened in fourth position.”
    Her muscles tightened, sore and overstretched. She tried to remember how the others had done it, how they had moved their bodies. This wasn’t a move that could be studied by books or observing the other dancers. It was something that a ballerina had trained for until it was a bone deep memory. With the drag of a breath, she filled her lungs and jumped, leaping in the air, her arms extended. Her foot slipped and twisted upon landing and she slid forward, collapsing onto the ground, her ankle radiating in pain.
    “As I said, you’re no ballerina, Miss Gibbons. You no longer have a position as a dancer in this ballet or any other at this theater. Collect your things and leave at once.”
    *
    The waves were quiet by the docks. They gently lapped against the side of the ships and swished around the moorings. The Thames might be tranquil tonight, but for Alex, the world was riotous.
    “You got your gob smacked good, eh there, Alex?”
    He wiped the blood and sweat from his face with the corner of his shirt, now finally able to breathe after the stench of brawling at the warehouse. He’d spent all day unloading coal from a ship, then came for a fight. He got what he wished for—a fine beating.
    “I did.” He released the edge of his shirt, grateful for the brief cool slip of air that brushed against his middle before they wandered out onto the cobblestone streets. The summer air was putrid, reeking of rotting fish and stagnant water. The rest of the boys were behind him, boasting about their bets against Alex, laughing at how he lost. He hadn’t given a damn about winning.
    A body edged itself up against the wall across the darkened street. Everyone here was desperate for some money, but a woman selling herself never set well with him. His mother claimed it was love that saw her landed in that asylum.
    “Are we heading to the pub, Marwick? Let’s get a pint to celebrate your loss.”
    “Not tonight, fellas.” He straightened, watching as the body limped across the dark street, a sliver of light falling upon her strawberry hair and hazel eyes as she approached him from the lantern above, her head held high, as always. “Christ, Anne, is that