He smiled and let go of her hand to help his family greet the remaining guests. There would be very few lingerers. Country folk were generally not given to being fashionably late to social events.
—
Winifred would indeed have thought this one of the happiest days of her life had she not been constantly aware that on Monday—the day after tomorrow—she would be going home to Bath with her family, and all this would become a distant, bittersweet memory.
She tried desperately not to dwell on the future, even when it was as close as Monday, but to live for the moment and enjoy every one as it came. And there had beensomuch to enjoy, with the ball still to come. And her waltz with Colonel Ware. She had dared not read too much into his reserving the dance with her. They had become friends of a sort during the past couple of weeks. That was all. Both of them had come here half hoping—more than half in his case—to be betrothed to other people by today. But it had not happened for either of them, and it was perhaps understandable that they should turn to each other in a sort of friendship.
And thus she rationalized his interest in her today—and hers in him.
She had tried to convince herself all afternoon and again this evening that there was nothing more than friendship between them. There were too many valid reasons why they should not mean more to each other, not least of which was the age difference.Mama had had a birthday just before they came here, her thirty-fifth. He was thirty-four. It was true that Mama was less than fourteen years older than she was. She had not given birth to Winifred, after all. But even so…Well, Winifred was in the habit of looking upon her parents as being one whole generation up from her own.
Any relationship with Colonel Ware was impossible anyway, for all sorts of other reasons. Her realization of that fact had threatened to drag at her spirits all day. She had fought back byremembering that day, the happiest of her life. The day when Mama had asked her to go with her and Papa as their daughter when they married. The trouble was, though, that she always heard those words in her head in his voice—remember that day. She even tried to imagine what her life would be like now if there had not been that day. But it was impossible to do, and pointless anyway. For there had been that day and all the myriad blessings it had bestowed upon her. It really was not a terrible fate to be going back home on Monday to the life and surroundings that had always brought her happiness and a sense of purpose.
But now…
Well, now he had shifted their waltz to coincide with the supper dance. But it was not so he would be able to sit and converse with her at supper. Instead, he had invited her to step outside with him to enjoy the cooler air of evening and a walk in the moonlight.
She felt sick with apprehension. And excitement. And forgot all the reasons why she ought to have said no. She very much feared she was in love with Colonel Nicholas Ware.
In the meantime, she chatted with villagers she had met today and with the family and guests from Ravenswood, including Mrs. and Miss Haviland, both of whom had looked more relaxed in the past couple of days, especially today, when Winifred would swearthey had both been enjoying themselves. Miss Haviland had picked up an impressive court of followers. They would surely be clamoring and vying with one another for her hand when the dancing began.
All would be well, Winifred decided.
Finally, Eluned Rhys, as head of the committee in charge of the fete, stepped up onto the dais with the orchestra and waited for a hush to fall upon the crowd below. She welcomed them all, thanked the Earl and Countess of Stratton for making their ballroom available for the occasion, thanked the army of volunteers who had decorated the ballroom so lavishly and those who had provided the flowers in such abundance. She thanked those volunteers who even now were preparing to bring out the drinks and light refreshments to set on the tables. She especially thanked the Berrys, who had worked tirelessly to keep them all well fed throughout the day and would cater to the supper later. She was interrupted several times by bursts of warm applause. And she thanked everyone who had done anything to make this surely the best of all fetes within living memory.
There was an enthusiastic cheer.
And finally she announced the first set, and the dancing began.
Winifred danced the opening set of country dances with Bertrand, as she had done at Aunt Anna’s ball, and the second with Owen, as she had also done then. She danced the first waltz with the vicar’s son, one of Owen’s friends, and saw that Mama was dancing it with Papa, the two of them looking thoroughly happy and absorbed in each other. Sarah was dancing with a tall, gangly young boy, all elbows and eager, uncoordinated movements. The Duke of Wilby danced with Pippa, Mr. Rutledge with Stephanie, Miss Haviland with Owen. Oh, and just outside the French windows, whichhad been opened wide to let in some cool air, Ben Ellis had raised his wife from her wheeled chair and was shuffling slowly with her in time to the music. She was moving awkwardly and laughing up at him, and he was gazing back at her, naked love in his eyes.
Oh!
Was any more romantic sight possible?
Winifred wanted to halt the forward progress of the ball at the same time as she wanted to hurry it along to the supper dance. It was fortunate, perhaps, that one’s wishes had no effect upon the passage of time. Inevitably the second waltz was announced, and everyone chose their partners. Colonel Ware came to claim her hand.
He was so terribly handsome, she thought. Often, though she always scolded herself for it, she was intimidated by very handsome men, conscious of the fact that she had no beauty of her own to match theirs. But he had noticed her during the past two weeks anyway. He had bought her the silver daisy brooch this morning.A humble, often overlooked, underrated flower that is nevertheless one of the prettiest and most enduring of all.And he had said it must surely have been made just for her. He had asked her, quite unbidden, to waltz with him this evening. And he had wanted the supper dance so he could take her outside to walk in the moonlight.
She definitely, desperately wanted to halt time.
The music was lilting, the rhythm slow. She set her left hand on his shoulder as his right came about her waist and his other hand clasped hers. He was very large and very solid—foolish thoughts. He was wearing some sort of cologne, though nothing to assault her senses. She could not even identify what it was. But it emphasized his masculinity, as though it needed emphasizing. And she felt his body heat and the confident way he led her into the dance. She could not have taken a misstep or somehow got her feet beneath hisif she had tried, she was convinced. It seemed to her as they danced that he was utterly trustworthy, not in any overbearing way, only…
Oh, she could not think of the words for which her mind reached. But she did not need words. This was the time tofeel.
And she felt as though there was mere air beneath her feet. He twirled her about a corner of the ballroom, and all the myriad flowers and evening dresses and the light from the candles in the candelabra overhead and in the wall sconces swirled with them into a kaleidoscope of merging light and color. She felt the music in him and in her very bones. And never had the waltz been like this. She tipped back her head and smiled up at him. He was looking at her, but he was not smiling in return. There was an intense look in his eyes. His jaw was solid, his lips set firm, and she saw again the military officer who had ridden past her at the Horse Guards Parade that day of Trooping the Colour. At the same time, she saw Nicholas, and the two were all blended together to show her a complete and complex man who could not be defined by labels.
And she loved him.
No matter the impossibility of it all. Shelovedhim.
The music drew to its inevitable end, and dancers and spectators began to make their way to the room next to the ballroom, which had been set up for supper. The noise of children at play beyond the French windows had stopped, Winifred realized. They must all have been taken to the nursery floor, lured there, no doubt, by the promise of their very own banquet.
“Will you need a shawl to wear outside?” the colonel asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “If there is any coolness out there, I will welcome it against my bare arms.”
“Shall we, then?” he asked, gesturing toward the terrace.
