by Martha Keyes
He looked down at her with an amused tilt to his mouth. “Why should you assume either is necessary?”
“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “either you recognized my discomfort and intervened, perjuring yourself in the process, I might add; or,” she shrugged, “you have mistaken me for a lady who had indeed promised you a dance, in which case I apologize for the misunderstanding and simply feel grateful that it occurred.”
His smile grew. “I only did what I wish someone would do for me whenever I find myself in Sir Lewis's company.”
A laugh escaped Kate. “I will endeavor to return the favor if I ever see you in his presence.”
“The prospect of being in his company suddenly becomes more enticing,” he said.
She glanced at him. Was he flirting with her?
But he was looking toward the dance floor where a set was forming.
“Shall we?” he said, motioning to the dancers.
Kate hesitated. She couldn’t deny that the prospect of dancing with him was appealing. But they hadn’t even been properly introduced.
“You realize,” he said, watching her hesitation, “that if you refuse, I will have doubly perjured myself tonight. And you will bear some responsibility for the second instance.”
How did he manage to look so censuring and playful at the same time? Kate suppressed a smile and shot a glance in the direction of Sir Lewis. His eyes were on them. She found that she was gripping the gentleman’s arm harder than was merited and loosened her hold.
“How could I possibly refuse after such a compelling argument?” she said, looking up at him with a smile.
They took their places among the set on the dance floor for a lively country dance. She had danced with gentlemen after only a brief introduction, but never had she danced with one whose name she didn’t know. The knowledge that they were complicit in defying etiquette brought a shade of pink to Kate’s cheeks which had nothing to do with the heat of the room. There was something exhilarating about it all.
Her partner was skilled but droll in his dancing, and Kate found that her cheeks began to ache from smiling and laughing. There was hardly time for conversing amongst the energetic movements of the dance, and yet Kate felt carefree with her anonymous partner. His hand was light yet sure, and she felt a thrill each time the dance required them to stand shoulder to shoulder or join hands.
Before she knew it, though, the set had ended, and they were bowing to one another.
He offered her his arm, his breathless grin matching her own. “Where shall I convey you, madam? Back to Sir Lewis?”
“By all means,” she said with a threatening lift to her eyebrows, “if you wish my specter to haunt you the rest of your days.”
He threw his head back in a chuckle. “That prospect is not nearly as horrifying as you seem to think it.”
“Well before you convey me to my aunt—" she emphasized the word and indicated Fanny whose back was turned as she conversed with Charlotte Thorpe "—perhaps I should at least know your name?”
He drew back with a scandalized expression. “When we haven’t even been properly introduced? What an appalling suggestion.” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth for a moment, and he continued walking her toward Fanny.
She pulled back on his arm, preventing their progress. “Perhaps it is. But we can hardly ask someone to introduce us after they have seen us dance together. Besides, what if someone should inquire from me after you?”
He clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “What a dilemma for you.”
“For me? Why only for me?”
“You have no way to know my name,” he replied.
“Nor do you know mine,” she countered.
“Ah.” He raised a brow enigmatically. “But I will discover it, all the same.”
He pulled her gently along toward Fanny who was still too occupied with Mrs. Thorpe and two other women to remark their presence.
The gentleman shot Kate a half-smile as he bowed, then leaned in and whispered, “My name is William.”
And then he walked away.
Kate watched the gentleman stride off, feeling both frustrated and captivated.
“Miss Matcham?”
The voice, full of excitement and surprise, broke in on her thoughts.
She turned around to face the owner of the unfamiliar voice. A young woman stared at her with round eyes and a large grin.
Kate hadn’t any idea who she was, though there was something familiar about her. With flaxen hair, rosy cheeks, and large blue eyes brought out by the lace-covered powder blue gown she wore, it was a face Kate was sure she would have remembered.
Her bewilderment must have been apparent, because the young woman laughed.
“It’s me, silly! Clara. Surely you can’t have forgotten?”
Confusion morphed into recognition and astonishment, and Kate’s face lit up with a large smile. “Clara Crofte? But of course!”
The two embraced quickly, and a strong aroma of lavender met Kate’s nose. Clara pulled away, holding Kate out at arms’ length, a hand on each shoulder. “You are quite as grown up as I am,” she said. “More so, I suppose, since you are older. And so very lovely. When I asked Mary Thorpe who you were, she said, ‘Why, that’s Miss Kate Matcham,’ and I couldn’t believe it. So of course I had to come to you immediately.”
“I’m very grateful you did,” Kate replied. “Indeed, I am in shock to be talking to you. I’ve often wondered about you and your family this past decade and more, and here you are in front of me after so many years. How is your family?”
“They are well, thank you. My mother is here with me tonight, though last I saw her, she was walking with Lady Carville.” She scanned the room, looking for her mother. “I don’t see her at the moment, and unfortunately, we cannot stay much longer. My mother is under orders from the doctor not to be to bed too late. May we call upon you tomorrow, though?”
“Yes,” Kate said with enthusiasm. “Please do. I’m staying with my aunt, Lady Hammond, in Berkeley Square. We would be delighted to receive you.”
Clara beamed. “Wonderful!” She glanced away and then put a hand on Kate’s arm, her eyes still fixed on whatever had caught her attention. “Oh, I’m afraid you must excuse me. I see Lord Cartwright thinks I have forgotten that I promised him this dance,"— she shot him a coy glance —"but I shall see you tomorrow.” She embraced Kate again, and, with a suppressed squeal of delight, left to favor Lord Cartwright with a cotillion.
Kate turned back toward Fanny with a dazed expression, excusing herself as she bumped into one of Fanny’s friends.
“Good heavens, Kate,” said Fanny, “you nearly knocked over poor Mrs. Orritt. So unlike you!” Her words censured Kate, but they also contained a hint of curiosity. Fanny was always quick to perceive when someone was full of news.
“Now, your ladyship,” said Mr. Walmsley, with a kind smile at Kate. “I’m sure she didn’t intend to knock Mrs. Orritt over, did you?” He paused, and then added as an afterthought, “Though, even if she had intended it, I can’t say I’d have blamed her. The last time I was invited for dinner, I’m devilish sure she had the wine watered down.”
Fanny waved an impatient hand at Walmsley, dismissing his hypothesis and looking expectantly at Kate.
“I’m sorry,” said Kate. “I’m only distracted with surprise. Do you know who I just spoke with, Fanny?”
Fanny looked exasperated. “Well, really, Kate. With half of London here tonight, how am I to guess which one person you spoke to?”
Kate threw off her preoccupation with a shake of her head and a laugh. “Of course you could never guess. It was Clara Crofte.”
Fanny looked none the wiser, staring blankly at Kate, who was obliged to provide more information. Once Fanny made the connection, Kate informed her aunt of the Croftes’ plans to call the next day.
“Oh no!” said Fanny with a look of dismay. “Surely you didn’t tell them they could call tomorrow? I’ve been promis
ed to Lady Carville for a sennight.”
“I had entirely forgotten.” Kate apologized, looking deflated before perking back up. “Well, if you aren’t opposed to it, I could receive them on my own?”
Fanny readily assented to the plan.
“Oh, Fanny!” Kate sat up straight in her chair. “I must ask you—” she scanned the room “—to tell me who a particular gentleman is.” She blinked rapidly. The man was nowhere to be seen.
“Who?” Fanny said, her curiosity piqued. She followed her niece’s eyes around the room.
Kate’s brows drew together. “I don’t see him anywhere. Perhaps he left.” She went up on her toes for a better view of all the ball guests. He was tall enough that it shouldn’t have been difficult to find him.
“His name is William,” said Kate, still surveying the crowd.
Fanny scoffed. “He and half the men in this room, I imagine.”
Kate plopped down in the nearest chair, disappointed. The charm and novelty of London had long since worn off for her, but her encounter with William had made her feel lively again for the first time in longer than she could remember. How would she ever discover his identity?
Also by Martha Keyes
Families of Dorset Series
Wyndcross: A Regency Romance (Book One)
Isabel: A Regency Romance (Book Two)
Cecilia: A Regency Romance (Book Three)
Hazelhurst: A Regency Romance (Book Four)
Phoebe: A Regency Romance (Series Novelette)
Regency Shakespeare Series
A Foolish Heart (Book One)
Other Titles:
Goodwill for the Gentleman (Belles of Christmas Book Two)
Eleanor: A Regency Romance
Afterword
Thank you so much for reading Eleanor! If you enjoyed the book, please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads and tell your friends. Authors like me rely on readers like you to spread the word about books you’ve enjoyed.
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Lastly, I do my best to research and understand the Regency time period as well as possible as I write my stories. If I have gotten some details wrong, I apologize. I continue learning and researching while trying to craft stories that will be enjoyable to readers like you.
Acknowledgments
So much time and work has gone into the stories that I write—something that is only possible with the wonderful support I’ve received from family, friends, and the writing community.
Thank you to my husband, Brandon, for putting up with countless nights of me at the computer; for taking care of the boys when I am itching to get some writing in; and for supporting me in every way with my dreams, as crazy as they sometimes are.
Thank you to my boys who, while they are too young to understand what I’m working on, motivate me to be a better mother and a more well-rounded woman. They have sacrificed time with me in order for this all to come about, and they teach me so much about love with how forgiving they are.
Thank you to my mom, Karen, who is always my first reader and my biggest cheerleader; my dad, Cory, who believes in me more than I believe in myself; and my sister, Anna, who is a veritable fount of writing knowledge—who first pushed me to do NaNoWriMo.
And lastly, thank you to all my fellow Regency authors and to the wonderful communities of The Writing Gals and LDS Beta Readers. I would be lost without all of your help and trailblazing!
About the Author
Martha Keyes was born, raised, and educated in Utah—a home she loves dearly but also dearly loves to escape whenever she can travel the world. She received a BA in French Studies and a Master of Public Health, both from Brigham Young University.
Word crafting has always fascinated and motivated her, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that she considered writing her own stories. When she isn’t writing, she is honing her photography skills, looking for travel deals, and spending time with her husband and children. She lives with her husband and twin boys in Vineyard, Utah.