Anna took a sip of her champagne. “Now you tell me a secret.”
“I’m thinking of bribing one of the footmen to bring a chicken in.” Belinda’s smile was full of mischief.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Oh listen, it’s the quadrille!” Belinda set down her champagne flute. “I’ll dance with Jaded Giles if you promise to find someone exciting to dance with.”
“I’ve had a bit too much excitement in my life, recently,” Anna said.
“You mustn’t let me make this sacrifice in vain.” Belinda affected a martyred expression. “Please, Anna. I want you to enjoy yourself, to dance.”
Anna never could resist her friend’s pleading. “Very well. But you must make sure Giles is well in hand before I step onto the floor.”
“Don’t take too long.” Belinda waggled her gloved fingers, then vanished into the crowd.
Anna took another swallow of champagne. Truly, she had no heart for dancing—but she had promised. To dance, at any rate. Enjoying herself was out of the question. She glanced about for the most uninteresting prospect she could find. There—one of the local squire’s sons, a gangly fellow who flushed when she smiled at him.
Still, the lad was enough up to scratch that a moment later he approached and asked her to join him in the quadrille. Anna accepted, making sure to guide them to the second line, where they would have no chance of coming face-to-face with Belinda and her partner.
She caught snatches of conversation as they moved through the figures of the dance. Behind her, Mrs. Wildering was exclaiming to someone about the unreliability of country servants and their questionable references. Anna was certain she was the cause of that particular complaint.
Soon enough, the dance was ended. She thanked the squire’s son and retreated back to her corner, where Belinda soon joined her.
“Heavens, Giles Wildering’s hands like to roam,” she said. “I had to swat him with my fan twice. And then he wouldn’t stop talking about his new horse.”
“His horse?” It must be Windsor, surely.
“Well, his former new horse. Apparently the man who sold it to him changed his mind. Mr. Wildering was sorely vexed.”
Anything that vexed him, Anna found pleasing. “Who sold him the horse? I’ll have to thank the gentleman.”
“It was Sir Averly, I believe. He breeds horses—and look, there he is now. Late, but at least he came. He’s far and away the most interesting gentleman in the area. You should dance with him, Anna. Come, I’ll introduce you.”
As they moved across the dance floor, the back of Anna’s neck began to prickle. Belinda was leading her toward a tall, sandy-haired figure that was suddenly, achingly, familiar. Surely it couldn’t be. It was a passing resemblance, that was all. She tried to calm her pounding heart.
Then the man turned. His rugged features were unmistakable. Those penetrating green eyes fixed on her face and surprise flashed across his expression, quickly masked.
“Sir Averly,” Belinda said. “How lovely that you could attend our ball.”
“Indeed.” His gaze had not left Anna’s.
“Allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Anna Harcourt. She’s currently a guest at Caswell Manor. Anna, meet Sir Jonathan Avery.”
“Sir.” Anna could scarcely breathe.
Jonathan. Here—and somehow a member of the gentry. It unbalanced her completely. She was surprised the walls hadn’t begun to cave in on her.
“Miss Harcourt, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Would you care to further it by strolling with me on the terrace?” He held out his arm to her.
Belinda blinked, then leaned her head close to Anna’s. “Go on,” she whispered. “He’s a gentleman—you’ve no cause to worry.”
“Thank you.” Anna found her voice. “I’d be delighted.”
She placed her hand on his arm. The feel of his strength under her fingers reminded her of how it felt to be wrapped in his embrace. Heat flushed into her cheeks and she kept her gaze resolutely fixed on the French doors ahead.
Neither of them spoke until they had gained the low balustrade at the edge of the terrace. Then she released his arm and turned to face him. Light spilling from the ballroom left half his face in shadow. It was difficult to tell if he were pleased to see her, or angry. Or both.
“So,” she said, her voice a touch unsteady. “You are not a stable-hand.”
“And you are not a maid—though I suspected as much upon our first meeting.”
“You did?” How mortifying, that her disguise had been so easy to see through. “What gave me away?”
“No country maid ever spoke so elegantly, for one thing. And it was rather a stretch to imagine such a lovely maid having no experience in the arts of love. Unless, of course, you came from a much more sheltered existence.”
“Yet you said nothing.” He had known, all along. A curious sense of relief washed through her.
“What could I say? You had your reasons for your charade. It was not my place to press you for them. And... I was selfish.”
She tilted her head. In the half-light she could just make out the rueful smile she’d seen before on his face.
“Selfish?”
“If I pretended you were not a lady of refinement, then I could continue meeting you.” One hand came up to cup her cheek. “I could kiss you, without restraint or consequence. I didn’t want to lose you, Anna.”
A thrill went through her. When he dropped his hand from her face, she took his fingers in hers.
“You let me think that you were simply a groom, in order to continue our acquaintance. But why were you so often at the Wildering’s?”
“Giles Wildering wanted to buy Windsor. I was not wholly in accord with the idea, so decided to keep an eye on matters.”
No doubt Giles had thought that such a big black horse would enhance his manliness. “I heard that you changed your mind about the purchase.”
“Almost immediately. You are the only reason I didn’t turn back with Windsor at once. When you were gone, there was no reason to linger.”
“Are you… angry with me?”
“Why?” His hand tightened around hers.
“I deceived you.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “Not very well.”
“I thought I would never see you again.” Her heart was sore with joy.
“Ah, Anna.”
He stepped forward, and somehow she was in his arms again. It felt like home.
“You won’t tell, will you?” she asked. “Anyone?”
“All your secrets are safe with me. I only ask one thing.”
“A kiss?” She pressed hopefully against him.
“A lifetime of kisses. Anna Harcourt, I won’t lose you again. Will you allow me to call upon you?”
Her battered heart was suddenly, gloriously, whole again. The happiness that had been missing now sparked through her entire body, leaving her breathless. Her spirit was light as air. Lighter.
“Yes, Jonathan. Oh, most certainly yes!”
He dipped his head then, and their lips met in a kiss full of promise and desire. Giddy with happiness, Anna held on to him. There was nothing but this perfect moment, stretching into the future.
The sweet night wind. The taste of her beloved. The brilliant, whirling stars.
###
Want to know more about Anthea? Visit anthealawson.com to discover her Rita-nominated Victorian Romances and more Spicy Regency short stories.
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