Nine Ladies Dancing
Page 17
Adjusting the fox mask to be sure it completely covered the majority of her face, she sidled back to Aunt Edith.
“Where have you been?” the old woman snapped, sotto voce.
“I needed a breath of fresh air.”
Aunt Edith glanced over her shoulder, sending Evelyn a wrinkled glare. It had been reckless and foolish. But if Aunt Edith was aware that Evelyn had met a duke and he was en route to dance with her, the old woman would not be complaining. She was an incurable title-hunter.
“Do not disappear again if you want to retain any semblance of a reputation.”
It was on the edge of Evelyn’s tongue to explain that she had been alone in the garden, but that was not entirely true, so she kept quiet.
Waiting for the music to end and the door to open was like watching sap drip from a tree: painfully slow.
When the door finally opened and the white-wigged servant in red livery announced his name, Evelyn turned at once. Alverton was as tall as he had appeared in the dim moonlight of the garden. A black half-mask tied around his head resembled a wolf. His hair was dark, tousled as though he’d brushed it aside with his fingers and let it be. His face was shaded with a few days’ whiskers—adding to the rugged nature of his wolf costume. When his eyes flicked about as he searched the group for her, her breath stalled.
One by one the people on the outskirts of the ballroom seemed to notice the duke. Evelyn’s heart rate increased each time he paused in conversation. Had she made a horrible mistake in accepting? She was about to draw undue attention to herself.
The moment Alverton’s eyes came to rest on her, she decided that she had not erred so greatly. Not when he was at the ball for her. He crossed the room with long, purposeful strides, coming to stop just before Aunt Edith.
“Your grace,” Evelyn cut in quickly. “Allow me to present my aunt, Mrs. Chadwick.”
Aunt Edith appeared as though she’d swallowed a frog.
But Alverton did little more than bow to her before turning his attention fully on Evelyn. The music had paused along with the duke’s entrance and a moment later people began to line up for another dance. He watched her closely before offering his arm.
Quirking up his lips in a devastatingly handsome half-smile, he said, “I believe this is my dance.”
READ THE REST OF “A DUKE FOR LADY EVE”
Other titles in the
The Belles of Christmas
Regency Romance Christmas Series*
Book 1 - Unmasking Lady Caroline by Mindy Burbidge Strunk
Book 2 - Goodwill for the Gentleman by Martha Keyes
Book 3 - The Earl’s Mistletoe Match by Ashtyn Newbold
Book 4 - Nine Ladies Dancing by Deborah M. Hathaway
Book 5 - A Duke for Lady Eve by Kasey Stockton
*These books may be read in any order.
Other Titles by Deborah M. Hathaway
Stand Alone Novels
A Secret Fire
When Two Rivers Meet
To Warm a Wintered Heart
A Cornish Romance Series
On the Shores of Tregalwen, a Prequel Novella
Behind the Light of Golowduyn, Book One
For the Lady of Lowena, Book Two
Belles of Christmas Series
Nine Ladies Dancing, Book Four
Author’s Note
The games played throughout this story actually appeared during the Regency Era, including short answers, whist, loo, and hazard. The game of characters, enjoyed during the Twelfth Night revels, was also playing during the Regency period, but for the sake of this story, I used them a little earlier than when they were actually around. (See “Winter Evening Pastimes; Or, a Merry-Maker’s Companion” by Rachel Revel (pseud.) for more fun games played during the period!)
One more note, did you happen to catch each of the items from the song, “The Twelve Days of Christmas”? They’re not in any specific order, but throughout this story, I have each item mentioned, some more subtle, while others more obvious. I couldn’t very well write a book titled “Nine Ladies Dancing” and not include the song in some way!
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Deborah
Acknowledgements
I don’t think I’ve ever had as hard a time writing a book as when I wrote “Nine Ladies Dancing.” Perhaps it was because I was trying to channel my inner love for Christmas during the blazing, boiling months of July and August. I had to use my imagination more than ever to picture cold snow falling from the blue skies or sitting before a fireplace instead of my air conditioner. That being said, it is now extremely satisfying to have this book in the hands of you, my wonderful readers. Such a feeling of satisfaction couldn’t be possible, however, without the help of so many of my friends and family!
First, to the other authors in the “Belles of Christmas” series: Mindy Burbidge Strunk, Martha Keyes, Ashtyn Newbold, and Kasey Stockton. I loved getting to know each of you better. Thank you for the laughs, the fun, the commiseration, and the help!
Thank you to my editor. Yet again, you have saved another one of my stories from being utter garbage. The time you put into each of my books and the advice and encouragement you share is simply perfect. Thank you!
To my critique partner, fellow author, and wonderful friend, Arlem Hawks. What would I do without you? From helping me fix those first plot holes to ensuring this story was better line by line, I owe so much of my progress in this book—and as a writer—to you. I will be forever grateful for the blessing you are in my life!
Last, I need to express my gratitude to my sweet husband. Christian, how you put up with my craziness, I’ll never know. What I do know, however, is that I would be nothing of what I am today without you. Your support, your help, your patience, and your excitement for my stories is incomparable. Thank you.
About the Author
Deborah M. Hathaway graduated from Utah State University with a degree in Creative Writing. As a young girl, she devoured Jane Austen’s novels while watching and re-watching every adaptation of Pride & Prejudice she could, entirely captured by all things Regency and romance.
Throughout her early life, she wrote many short stories, poems, and essays, but it was not until after her marriage that she was finally able to complete her first romance novel, attributing the completion to her courtship with, and love of, her charming, English husband. Deborah finds her inspiration for her novels in her everyday experiences with her husband and children and during her travels to the United Kingdom, where she draws on the beauty of the country in such places as Ireland, Yorkshire, and her beloved Cornwall.