Jean finished drying the dishes from the evening meal. She could hear the strains of a waltz drifting through the house as ,she knew, Lucien taught Mattie to dance. She didn't think the doctor really cared for dancing but suspected it was part of his upbringing. She dried her hands and took off her apron, draping it over the back of a nearby chair, and wandered into the living room for the evening ritual of sherry for her and the nurse and whisky for Lucien.
She paused in the entrance to the living room, surreptitiously watching them; 1,2,3 the rise and fall of the steps and Lucien counting the steps, 1, 2,3. Mattie struggled to let Lucien lead, and it made her smile. He father had danced with her when she was young. A musical man, he loved to swing her round their small living room when she was young, and she had unintentionally learned to dance a waltz at the very least. The music ended.
'I'm sorry, Lucien,' Mattie sighed, 'I can jive a bit and move to some rock and roll, but a waltz...' She moved away.
Lucien smiled, as he noticed his housekeeper observing him and the younger woman. He liked her, she was smart, but she didn't realise it and she was...suddenly in the evening light he realised she was a very pretty woman, nay, beautiful. He replaced the needle on the record and moved over to Jean, holding out his left hand to her; inviting her to dance with him. She looked at him, his eyes said, 'Please, would you dance with me?'
How could she refuse. She took his hand and placed her left hand on his upper arm and allowed him to lead her. As the music swelled she gave herself up to the rhythm, closing her eyes as he waltzed her around the room, avoiding the furniture. It had been so long since she had felt this way. She hesitated to put it into words in her mind, she felt wanted, and as his hand pressed gently into her back she imagined she was in love.
In her room later she replayed the scene. It wasn't imagination, she was in love with her employer; she was in love, deeply in love with Lucien Blake.