“Owesounds rather like a burden I put on you,” I said before I could filter myself. There was a time we danced the night away. In recent years, more often than not, I went to the ballroom and he stayed in the cardroom. Two people living separate lives.
Eyes widening at my sarcastic observation, he merely nodded. He offered me a sheepish grin. “You are correct. It does sound rather transactional. If you are amenable, I would consider it an honor to dance with you.”
“I would consider it an honor to accept.” I wanted to enjoy our time together and keep my mind from drifting to a bleak future. For most of my marriage, my focus was on my three children and Rex. That was all changing. At thirty-seven, I was hardly in the grave, yet life felt like it was passing me by.
The long, narrow ballroom was decorated with large urns of flowers that carried a romantic air. Gas lamps cast a soft glow over the ivory wallpaper and polished wooden floors. The musicians I had hired were on a balcony overlooking the dance floor.
“The music is quite nice,” Rex said. He moved to the dance floor and held out his arms for me. I went into them gladly. My palm in his, he settled his fingers on my waist.
“I handpicked the orchestra. They came highly recommended.” I had given them a list of songs to play, some of which I had composed myself. Music spoke to me and had since a young age. I couldn’t explain how notes and composition formulated inside my head. One of my lifelong dreams was to enroll at the National Training School of Music. However, my father didn’t believe women should voice their opinions or draw attention to themselves in any way. With my birthright and pleasant looks, he predicted bigger things for me. Sadly, my mother had been of the same mind, and they had forbidden me to apply. That long-ago dream faded into the past.
“The violinist is exceptional.” He spun me around the floor, the strains of the waltz serenading us. “Almost as exceptional as your skills on the violin.”
The compliment warmed more than anything else could. With renewed purpose, I moved closer to Rex until our hips brushed each other’s. He looked at me, his head tilted as if trying to gauge if I had misstepped. I repeated the move, trying to hold back my smile. Eyes narrowing, he pulled me tighter to his body, a challenge in his smile. Cognizant of people watching us, I debated my next move. “Would it be rude of us to leave?” I asked.
“I believe it might be construed as rude.” A familiar light of desire lit his eyes, a touch of color on his cheeks.
It had been ages since he looked at me like this, and my toes curled in my shoes. We had a house full of people who had come to celebrate with us, yet I wanted to be alone with him. Perhaps tonight, we could stoke the flames of passion and capture what had been lost. “Maybe we can sneak away for a while.”
“We managed it twenty years ago tonight.” Rex continued to hold me close, the steps of the dance a seduction on their own. The reminder of our wedding night sparked my blood. He danced me off the floor, his hand gripping mine. Excitement flared between us, a trigger I hadn’t felt in ages.
“Mama, Papa, your dancing looked so romantic,” Anne said from somewhere behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see her and Atticus standing on the sidelines, along with Nigel and Harry. While all three of my children resembled their father with the same bright green eyes, Harry was the only one with blond hair. I lost two children between giving birth to the twins and Harry and often wondered what they would have been like. More tears threatened to fall at the loss Rex and I suffered. Like me, he had been devastated. I forced my mind to leave the heartache tucked into my consciousness. It wouldn’t be conducive to my peace of mind at this moment to pile more anxiety onto my plate.
“I want to go to bed.” Harry shifted from foot to foot, his anxiety clear. Hand outstretched, he stared at his father with expectation. Rex was his hero, and like me, he missed his father, who was gone most nights. Because of his challenges, we tended to coddle Harry more than we should.
“You are old enough to take yourself to bed,” Atticus said, laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Of all of us, my eldest son was less prone to mollycoddling Harry. On nights such as this, I agreed. My body still hummed with unfulfilled desire for the earlier promise in my husband’s eyes.
“Please, Papa, I want you to take me,” Harry pleaded.
Rex shared a resigned look with me, and I nodded. If we didn’t act, Harry would become more agitated.
“Come on, Harry.” Rex took his hand and offered me an apologetic smile. “We will continue our discussion when I return.”
“I will hold you to that.” Twenty years ago this eve, we had consummated our marriage. While we were no longer in the bloom of youth, I still heard the swell of music whenever he held me in his arms.
“Since Papa is otherwise occupied, will you partner me in a dance?” Atticus held out his hand to me. When he turned twelve, he hadn’t wished to be cosseted anymore. During the first year of my marriage, I had worried that I might never get with child. I was ecstatic when I found out I was increasing with the twins. After the two failed pregnancies, my despair returned until Harry came. Since then, I had given up hope. If, by some twist of fate, I found myself increasing again, I would be happy. However, I had a sense that that ship had sailed.
“That would be lovely.” I was proud yet pained to realize Atticus was a full-grown man about to make his own way in the world. It was a natural order of things, and although my logical mind told me that, my heart had different ideas. He was home for a fortnight, and then he’d be attending Oxford. The fact he wanted to spend time with me made me acquiesce. I allowed my son to guide me into the lively country dance. Anne and Nigel completed our set, their exuberance contagious. I turned to curtsy to Nigel and caught sight of Flynn watching me with his penetrating regard.
Our eyes locked, and he didn’t look away. There was a hint of longing in his expression, which stole my breath. Once, long ago, he had sworn his love to me. I had thought that had faded over time. From the intensity in his expression, I might be wrong.
The steps of the dance forced me to turn away, goosebumps chasing up and down my spine.It must be the wine.I resisted the urge to look back at him. Our brief romance existed in the past, yet the memory of frolicking in the fountain and the way he’d kissed me and touched my breasts flamed a dormant need deep inside my core.
My steps faltered, and Atticus frowned. “Are you all right?”
“My slipper caught on my skirt,” I lied, forcing a smile.
The wine and Rex’s seduction had fired my blood, not Flynn. Our romance ended the day I accepted Rex’s proposal. Once my husband finished with Harry, I would insist we have a rendezvous. Even thinking about it tightened my nipples and inflamed my need for his touch.
Rex couldn’t return soon enough. Tonight, I prayed we would rekindle the flame in our marriage and regain the connection that seemed to have faded overnight.
