Many historical novels have the hero and the heroine reunited after years. In One Perfect Dance, my hero arrives back in London after sixteen years and goes to visit the woman who was his childhood sweetheard.
Lady Barker—Elaine—had been able to discover that Mrs. Paddimore was in residence, and that today was her afternoon for receiving calls. Ash had seen enough of English Society in far-flung corners of the world to know the process. The butler took Ash’s card, and beckoned Ash to follow him up the stairs and into a drawing room that managed to be both elegant and comfortable.
Catching her at home and receiving was a mixed blessing. It had insured his immediate entry, but meant he was now afloat in a sea of unknown faces.
Not that he gave any of the others more than a cursory look. He had eyes only for Regina. He had not seen her in sixteen years, and she was now very much an adult rather than a girl on the verge of conquering Society, but she was even lovelier as a mature woman than she had been when he was last in England.
There were perhaps a dozen men and four other ladies in attendance, but he could not have described anything about them. Odd. He had long since developed the habit of cataloguing the people present, the contents of a room and every possible exit. His travels had taken him to places where his life depended on such awareness.
At this moment, however, everything and everyone else was just a background for Regina. Her flawless skin, her dark hair in an artful coil on the top of her head. Her blue eyes, sparkling as she conversed with the lady next to her. Her plush lips, curved in a gentle smile. One of the shoe brooches he had sent her was clipped in her hair.
The butler announced him. “Mr. Elijah Ashby.” The room silenced as if by magic, and everyone turned towards the door, their mouths hanging open. Regina leapt to her feet and hurried towards him with both hands held out.
“Elijah!” she proclaimed. “How wonderful! I read in the newspaper that you had returned to England but did not expect to see you so quickly! I am so glad you called. Please, come and allow me to introduce you.”
She was smaller than he expected. Over the years, he had forgotten how diminutive she was, not just short but also slender, though in a thoroughly womanly fashion. She is still a sylph. The force of her personality, coming through in every letter, had somehow led him to expect a larger presence. The scent was the same as he remembered, though. An English garden, with a touch of something that was pure Ginny.
“Ladies, allow me to present my friend, Mr. Ashby. Mr. Ashby, my cousin, Mrs. Austin, and the Ladies Deerhaven, Charmain, and Stancroft, all very dear friends.”
Ash made his bow.
Lady Deerhaven was a regal lady with the slight padding of a matron and a kindly smile. “Regina and I have been reading your books since the very first,” she claimed. “How lovely to meet you in person.”
Lady Charmain was a statuesque blonde with eyes of a vivid blue. “Mr. Ashby, it is a delight to meet you.”
Ash did his best to look Lady Stancroft in the one eye that showed. The other was hidden by a pretty half mask that covered one side of her face. A fine tracery of purplish scars hinted at the story the mask had to tell.
He was next introduced to Lord Deerhaven and Lord Stancroft, presumably the husbands of the two ladies. They welcomed him back to England. Lord Charmain, if there was one, was not present. Regina continued to introduce him around the room, and he continued to be polite about remarks that praised the books and to deflect questions about his and Rex’s plans for the future.
Then they reached a short balding man who was vaguely familiar and whose face came into full focus when Regina said, “And, of course, you know David Deffew.”
Daffy Down Dilly, as Ash lived and breathed, there with an oily smile on his face and his hand out ready to claim his part in the fêted return of the famous author.
“My dear stepbrother,” Dilly announced to the room, as he clasped Ash’s hand and held it too long. Ash inclined his head slightly and gave a tug on the hand to free it. He would not make a scene in Regina’s drawing room.
