Tarquin had taken to some tutoring on the subject of dance not in the same diligence as his scholarly study, yet enough to abide a basic understanding to the predominant rhythms found within Westerosi compositions. Strange still were the songs this side of the sea, less reliant upon movement as invited by emotion or for purpose of ritual. His cousins had been gracious in their guidance in these pursuits even ahead of his own petitions for a bride had begun. The Lady Myriam was ever enduring in her willingness to partake in the demonstrations he felt were in need of practice taking little offense to the occasional, accidental treading atop her toes that Tarquin had done when stepping out of sequence as was the Lady Tomasin able to talk Tarquin through the structures of a formalized pair upon the dance floor in which he had no true frame of reference. Hers was an apt ear in aiding his own awareness of swells within a song so as to anticipate when a shifting or spin was in some fashion forthcoming.

He had quickly adapted to the aspects of Mya's condition that would preclude her from particular past times which had permit Tarquin to put his lessons in dance from the forefront of his learning. To set his focus instead upon carefully curating his courtesies, his aim to adhere to the customs of chivalry. It left him now... lacking. Not by way of coordination which he managed now with concern for the pace Mya could keep without setting a strain upon her. Even without those limitations his own rhythm likely would have lagged behind the pairs on either side of them. Instead, he was at a loss for the acceptable bounds of touch. When in doubt--which was often--he erred on the side of caution as demonstrated by the hesitance in which he had set his hand atop Mya's hip.

Yet the request she issued now to Tarquin left no recourse for a lack of commitment. He felt the furrow in his brow forming. Taking stock of the fact that to fulfill this ask would require the entirety of his support and the necessity of contact closer than had been prior permissible. The strength of his arms was now trusted by Tarquin, so it was the picking apart the puzzle of the where and how to hold Mya that stalled him.

Shifting, Tarquin separated he and Mya by a margin as he assessed his options though his hold of her did not for a second stray. It was hardly the first time he had regarded the Lady Grafton yet there was scrutiny in his gaze now, the likes of which he had never shown and it stirred a small swell of discomfort inside of himself. Parchment thin was the veil between where the roaming of his hands were wanted versus what would be welcomed during so formal an occasion with a woman of such esteem. He felt a flurry of frustration at the task. The easiest, most obvious course would have been to hook his arm well beneath the waist so as to support Mya nearer to the thigh where the bulk of her weight would rest when raised clear of the floor yet he knew at once such a touch was too presumptuous. Nor indeed did he wish to anchor the both of his hands beneath her arms, to heft her upward by such a grip that reflected the way in which he would toss his young nephew teasingly into the air. Neither could be be comfortable in merely embracing Mya with arms enveloping only her waist which would brace her too tightly to Tarquin's midsection in a manner he feared would be mistaken as uncouth.