The Last Chance Christmas Ball

by Mary Jo Putney

  “No!” The word escaped her throat before she could stop it. A ragged inhale served to steady her voice. “If you must know, Edward and I fell in love. He proposed—but Lord and Lady Holbourne thought us too young to know our hearts. They refused to grant him an allowance, and without funds . . .” Lily needed another breath to go on. “Mr. Carrington generously offered to pay off Papa’s debts and was willing to overlook my paltry dowry. My parents pressed me to accept his hand, and as he was a kind, decent man, I felt I had no choice but to do as they asked.”

  The dowager muttered a very unladylike word under her breath. “So, what is standing in the way of your mutual happiness now?”

  “Miss Roxanne Hayward,” whispered Lily. “Rumor has it the two of them will announce their betrothal at the ball.”

  “Roxie has spark and intelligence, I grant you that. But I was under the impression she was in love with . . .” Lady Holly pursed her lips. “Be that as it may, I’m convinced that whatever the agreement, Edward’s heart is not in it.”

  “Even if that were so, there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

  “You intend to give up so easily?”

  Lily flinched, feeling the comment unfair. “What would you have me do?” She gave a wry grimace. “If I were in India, I could, perhaps, hire a horde of whirling dervish warriors to kidnap Miss Hayward and sell her to white slavers. But this is civilized England.”

  Lady Holly sipped her tea, a pensive frown pulling at her mouth. But after several moments, her expression brightened. “You may not have a whirling dervish packed away in your trunk, but I daresay you have another exotic weapon.”

  “I don’t know what you mean—”

  “A sari,” said the dowager triumphantly. “Wear something sensuously seductive to catch his eye and I promise you, he won’t be announcing his engagement to Roxie Hayward.”

  The suggestion was outrageous.

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” she mumbled.

  “What have you got to lose?” demanded Lady Holly. “Save for the man you love?”

  Lily looked down into her cup, as if the tea leaves might spell out some words of wisdom. She had always allowed reason to rule her emotions. Did she dare cast caution—and all her carefully constructed defenses—to the wind?

  “I—I shall think about it.”

  “Do.” The dowager set aside her tea and patted back a yawn. “I am getting sleepy, and Miss Finch will soon be here to read to me. You may toddle along now.”

  She rose and gathered her skirts.

  “Don’t be a fool, my dear,” murmured Lady Holly as Lily started for the door. “One doesn’t often get a second chance at seizing happiness.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Edward very rose early and headed to the stables, determined to distance himself from his inner turmoil by riding long and hard out to the remote reaches of the estate. Not to speak of distancing himself from Lily. And Roxie.

  Hell’s bells, what a tangle. The coils wrapped around him seemed to be constricting with every passing moment, cutting off air and light.

  The hours passed, the wind and sun slapping his skin, trying to breathe some life into his clouded thoughts. And yet, the physical exertion and the natural beauty of the lands he loved, which usually worked wonders to dispel any blue-deviled mood, only left him feeling more dispirited. As he bathed and dressed for dinner, he found it harder and harder to breathe.

  He knew what his own sense of honor demanded, and was fully prepared to do his duty tonight at the ball.

  But his emotions felt as if they had been stuffed inside a powder keg whose lid had been nailed firmly shut. God forbid if one tiny spark were to flare close by—they just might explode.

  Tugging the last fold of his cravat into place, Edward turned from the looking glass and headed down to begin the night of festivities.

  Dinner featured a full complement of local friends and house guests seated around the massive table, but despite the flowing wine and cheerful toasts celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of Lady Holly’s Christmas ball tradition, he found it impossible to get into the holiday spirit. His sister, Caro, who had arrived earlier in the afternoon without her husband, was flashing smiles, and yet he sensed there was something troubling her....

  The muscles in his shoulders tightened.

  Roxie, who was seated next to him, seemed equally tense.

  Was she having second thoughts?

  Edward shoved aside the hope, and tried to make pleasant conversation with the very young lady on his left. To his relief, she was too tongue-tied to respond with anything more than monosyllables—which left him free to brood about Lily.

  Lily hurried up the stairs. She had excused herself from the after-dinner gathering in the drawing room, saying she needed a little extra time to dress for the ball. The explanation drew a questioning look from Lady Holly, which she had quickly evaded.

  Choices, choices. As her feet flew over the treads, Lily still wasn’t certain what to do. Her maid was laying out two outfits—one daring to risk it all, one conceding defeat.

  “La, just look at how this feather-light scarlet silk glitters in the candlelight!” As she entered her room, Colleen floated an end of the gold-threaded sari through the air. “Why, it’s like a tongue of fire, darting soft as a whisper though the shadows.”

  “You’ve been reading too much of Lord Byron’s poetry,” muttered Lily.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being wildly, passionately romantic at times,” shot back Colleen, adding a last little flutter. “Life would be awfully dull without a blaze of heat to warm yer cockles.”

  She reluctantly set the sari back on the bed and smoothed out the creases. Next to it lay a traditional ball gown fashioned in a muted shade of smoke-blue silk. “So, have you decided which one to wear?”

  Lily picked up a silver box from the dressing table and slowly sorted through her jewelry. “I . . . I . . .” Taking up a long, dangling gold filigree teardrop earring—the pair had been the most exotic ornaments she had ever purchased—she closed her eyes.

  “I shall let Fate decide,” she said, and then tossed it in a high arc toward the bed.

  She waited a long moment before letting one lid open.

  “Well, it looks like Fate is a lady after me own heart,” murmured Colleen with a grin.

  Her maid’s hands, noticed Lily, were carefully clasped behind her back.

  “We had better start dressing, Mrs. T. It requires a great deal of pleating and pulling to get all the fabric to fall just right.” Colleen rolled up the ball gown and shoved it back into one of the trunks. “And a handful of pins.”

  After a lengthy interlude, Colleen finally stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You look . . . like a goddess straight out of one of them fancy Moghul paintings,” she exclaimed. “All the gentlemen are going to drop their teeth in the punchbowl when you float into the room.”

  “Let us hope not,” said Lily dryly. “It would quite ruin the dowager’s special mixture of champagne and strawberries.” But after mustering the courage to look at her reflection in the cheval glass, she had to admit that the sari was rather striking.

  “You don’t think it’s too flashy?” she asked, setting the silk in motion with a tentative twirl.

  “It’s perfect,” answered Colleen. “It’s a special night, and you deserve to set off a few sparks.” She reached out and loosened one of Lily’s honey-gold curls. “There—now go and dance until dawn.”

  “I may have to in order to stay warm.” The sari bared more flesh than an English ball gown, and in very un-English places. Her breasts were . . .

  Better not to look at the front of her sari, lest she lose what little courage remained.

  A glance at the mantel clock showed the ball was about to begin. But deciding she needed an interlude alone to compose her nerves before facing Edward and Roxie, Lily took up her matching red shawl and made her way to the library. As she had hoped, it was deserted, though a fire was still burning b
rightly in the hearth. Wandering to the chessboard, she picked up the ivory queen, hoping it might serve as a talisman, allowing her to draw strength for the coming few hours. Chess, she mused, was an apt metaphor for life—the complicated strategies were all about risk and reward.

  “But I must be realistic,” she whispered. “It’s all very well to dream of fairy-tale endings, but such enchantments rarely happen in the real world.”

  After a moment, Lily replaced the queen on its square and sat down to study the board. Someone had left a half-finished game. As of yet, it was impossible to see whether white or black held the advantage. Taking up the challenge, she slowly began to move the pieces.

  “Have a care. The white knight is in danger.”

  Lost in thought, Lily nearly fell off her chair at the sound of Edward’s voice.

  He crossed the carpet, the glass of amber-colored whisky held close to his chest casting deep gold shadows over the intricate white folds of his cravat. His evening clothes were dark as midnight and finely tailored to show off the long, lean lines of his body. He looked so impossibly handsome, the chiseled planes of his face softened by the exquisite drape of the wool and linen.

  The perfect English gentleman.

  Acutely aware of her exotic clothing and her hopeless longings, Lily suddenly felt like a perfect fool.

  Edward took a swallow of the spirits, then set down his drink beside the board. “Let me take a look.” His gaze skimmed over the squares, hit the end of the board and slowly lifted.

  His jaw dropped ever so slightly. “What are you wearing?”

  “A sari,” she answered. “Lady Holly thought it might add a unique twist to her fiftieth anniversary ball.” It was dimly lit in the alcove, and his dark lashes made it impossible to read his expression. “But on second thought, I think I ought to change into a more conventional gown.”

  As Lily stood up, she heard the hiss of air leaving his lungs.

  “Don’t,” he said in a whisper as soft as the silk. “Grandmamma is quite right. It will make for a memorable evening.”

  “I have a feeling the ball will be exceedingly memorable, but because of your announcement, not my attire.” She somehow managed to keep her voice from quivering. “Again, I wish you joy, Edward. May you and your future bride be very happy together.”

  He continued to stare in silence.

  Sure that she had shocked him to his very core, Lily was desperate to slink away. “I really ought to change. This wasn’t a good idea.”

  Like a moth drawn to a flame, Edward moved closer. Like a flicker of fire rising up from the dark, she seemed to bring a sudden warmth and light to the shadowed space.

  “Before you go, let us have a holiday kiss.” He gestured vaguely at the unseen ceiling. “I’m sure there is mistletoe up there—they’ve hung it everywhere. And well, we ought to celebrate the season and our renewed friendship.” The echo of his voice sounded a little ragged to his ears. “I—I am very happy to see you again, Lily.”

  “Our friendship was never sundered,” she replied with an inscrutable smile.

  “Yes, but you were very far away.” And the wife of another. “I missed your company.”

  “As I did yours.”

  Did he dare hope? “Well then, as I said, let us celebrate the reunion with a kiss.”

  Edward leaned down and feathered his lips against hers.

  Lily flinched, as if touched with a red-hot poker, and then her mouth softened.

  The cold clench in his chest gave way to a flare of searing longing. Of searing love. He couldn’t let her leave the room. He couldn’t let her leave his life. In that instant he knew he couldn’t live without her.

  “Lily,” he rasped, deepening his embrace. Clasping her close, he reveled in the feeling of her glorious body melting into his.

  Two as one. They were meant for each other.

  “Lily,” he whispered against her skin. “I love you—I’ve always loved you. Dare I hope you might still care for me?”

  She looked up, her eyes shimmering with tears. “My feelings for you have never changed. Never.”

  Edward framed her face with his hands. “We need not be ruled by anyone’s command these days, save for the voices of our own hearts. Please say you will marry me. I can’t bear the thought of life without you by my side.”

  “But—”

  “This time, no ‘buts’ will come between us,” he rasped.

  Her mouth pinched in confusion. “But Miss Hayward . . .”

  “Ah, Roxie.” He allowed a wry smile. “It’s not me she loves, it’s my brother, Kim. But she had lost heart.” He went on quickly to explain everything. “Tonight she is determined to make one last try. But however things turn out, she will understand and wish us joy, truly she will.”

  The shadows clouding Lily’s gaze gave way to a luminous light. “Then yes,” she said simply. “Yes.”

  Happiness bubbled up inside him, far more intoxicating than the finest champagne.

  “Still, it seems only right that you should let her know before—” she added.

  He cut her off with a kiss. “In a bit,” he murmured, savoring the ethereal sweetness of her lips. “I’ve waited too long for this to end it so quickly.”

  But after a long moment, he reluctantly drew back. “However, you are right. I must find Roxie and explain things to her before we appear together in the ballroom.”

  “Of course, you must,” murmured Lily. “I do hope she will not be hurt. I would like to think we could be friends.”

  “Perhaps I’ve become a hopeless romantic, but somehow I believe that love will find a way to conquer all—even the darkness that currently grips my brother’s heart.” Edward took her hand. “Come, why don’t you wait in the conservatory while I go on to the ballroom.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lily wandered through the specimen plants, the warm, floral-scented air brushing a gentle caress to her already overheated skin. The light from the overhead brass lanterns was muted by the nighttime shadows, and yet as it flickered over the foliage, the darkness seemed to come alive with a glow of rainbow colors.

  The thought of having Edward in her life from now on would light a spark of joy in the deepest gloom of midnight black.

  Lost in such happy reveries, Lily moved to a cascading tumble of scarlet bougainvillea. The exotic flower had come to be a favorite of hers in India, its vibrant color always a cheerful tonic when her spirits plummeted. She would, she decided, shift this one to a special place as a reminder that hope should always bloom, no matter how dark the future looked.

  “I’m sorry I’ve taken so long.” Sounding harried, Edward pushed through the heavy door, in his haste leaving it slightly ajar. “Roxie’s not in the ballroom, and I’ve looked everywhere I can think of.” He joined her by the teak table and blew out a sigh. “I would like to believe it’s a good sign. She did say she would be storming the tower and trying to bring Kim back to life. Dare I hope . . . ?”

  Lily slipped her arms around his waist. “Hope is a very powerful force.”

  The tautness around his mouth softened. Reaching out, he plucked a bloom of the bougainvillea and tucked it behind her ear. “You are right—it’s a beacon of bright light when all else seems black as Hades.”

  “Hope, love, and Miss Hayward,” murmured Lily. “I doubt any demons will dare stand in their way.”

  “As for love . . .” Their eyes met and Edward hesitated.

  “Yes?” she encouraged, after the silence had stretched on for several heartbeats.

  “I—I am not sure I’ve expressed my feelings clearly enough. Allow me to try again.”

  Words proved unnecessary. Love had a language all its own.

  “You are very eloquent,” whispered Lily when after a lengthy interlude he finally released her lips.

  His smile sent a skittering of heat down her bare arms. “Actually, I’ve a great deal more to say.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “But I suppose I had better wait until later. Grand
mamma is likely on the verge of marshaling a search party to find us, so we had better go join the festivities.”

  “You don’t want to make one last try at finding Miss Hayward?” she asked.

  “I have great faith in Roxie—and it seems I’ve come around to having great faith in the legendary luck of the family tower.” Edward guided her out to the corridor. “Besides, the guests expect an announcement.” He cocked an ear. “And I think I hear the musicians tuning their instruments for the next set.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right,” said Lily. Or perhaps it was just the fugue of joy playing inside her head.

  As he took her hand and led her toward the rising sound of the music, her emotions were spinning in dizzying circles. Everything seemed to blur together as they entered the ballroom—the festive evergreen garlands, the brightly colored gowns, the floral perfumes, the curious stares.

  Lily blinked to clear her gaze and saw Lady Holly sitting in her place of honor. The brilliant sparkles of light from the crystal chandeliers glittered overhead as their gazes met.

  The dowager gave a tiny wink. A silent salute? Lily flashed a grateful smile and then Edward placed a steadying hand on the small of her back, turning her with a flourish into the first figures of the waltz.

  Time stood still. The years fell away. The only thing that mattered was the perfect harmony between them. All her doubts, all her fears seemed to melt away. In his arms she felt like liquid fire. An elemental flame burned bright in her heart, spreading warmth and light to every fiber of her being.

  Love.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Their palms pressed together, Edward twined his fingers with hers, basking in her glow as joy chased away the darkness that had shadowed his spirits for a decade.

  “I love you.” Three small words, filling an immeasurable void.

  Round and round they spun. Silk rippling, folds flaring, Lily was a bright blaze of color, the gold-threaded scarlet fabric trailing a flicker of rose-tinted sparks in her wake.