The Mammoth Book Of Regency Romance Part 15

And tonight was his last chance to find her. Not that he had much hope left. For every year, as each subsequent ball came and went, and she hadn't arrived, he'd begun to wonder if she'd ever existed, his lady in green silk.

Where are you? he mused. We are running out of time.

Then a strange hushed air moved through the crowd, followed by a tremor of whispers. One after another, the guests turned towards the entrance to gaze at the latest arrival.

Ashe stilled as he spied the graceful lady making her entrance.

No, it couldn't be her. It couldn't be.

But then she turned her head and he spied something he had dared not hope to see. For on the back of her costume perched a pair of gossamer wings. Fairy wings.

Ashe pushed his way forwards without thinking. He ignored the insulted gasps of his guests pressing his way through the crowd, even as speculative whispers whirled around him.

"A princess, I heard."

"Russian, I believe."

"Wherever did she get that costume?"

Then before he realized it, she stood before him.

"You!" he exclaimed. "I've found you!"

She smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling behind her mask. "No, I believe I found you."

"It doesn't matter how you've come back," he told her, catching her by the hand and drawing her into his arms. "I won't lose you again." Then, to seal his vow, his head dipped down and his lips captured hers.

The night from five years ago came back to him in rich clarity. It was her, the same sweet response, the same curves, the same soft sigh as he deepened his kiss and plundered her lips without any thought of propriety. And when he pulled back and held her at arm's length, he could only exclaim, "Devil take me, my love, I cannot believe I have found you."

"Believe again," she whispered, raising her lips to his and again, they kissed, much to the shocked gasps of the company around them.

"I have imagined this so many times," he whispered in her ear.

"You have?" She sounded surprised.

"Yes, of course," he told her. "You left me bewitched and lost that night."

"I did?" Truly, how could she be so surprised? Hadn't that night meant as much to her?

"Yes, you did," he told her with every bit of his heart, and an unabashed grin from ear to ear.

Her eyes sparkled beneath her mask. "And now?"

He grinned even more if that was possible. "I am still yours, my fey sweet love, if you will have me."

"I . . ." she stammered, much as she had years before, and he realized he had to tread carefully lest he frighten her off yet again. He hadn't another five years to wait.

The musicians struck up their instruments and Ashe smiled at her, holding her slim hand in his. "Come, you owe me this dance. One of many, I might add. I've been waiting all these years for your return."

He unmasked himself then led her out to the dance floor, to the amazed and scandalized stares of his guests. For it appeared to one and all that the Ashe legend was about to come true and the viscount had found his bride.

More than one matron with an unmarried daughter in tow and her hopes now dashed for an advantageous marriage, cursed this interloper, this princess from out of nowhere.

Ashe led her out to where the couples were lining up for the first set and, when the music began, it was as if time had not moved a tick since the ball five years earlier.

"Your hair is red," he teased as they came together.

"Are you disappointed?"

"No, enchanted. It is glorious," he whispered. He knew what it felt like, but now he could see the ginger strands and honeyed colours. He imagined what those silken tresses would look like spread out over his sheets, unbound and cascading all over her naked shoulders. "The colour matches your unmanageable temperament, as I recall."

She laughed. "You remember!"

"There is nothing I have forgotten," he told her.

They turned and moved down a long line of dancers before being reunited at the end of the floor.

"I see you found new wings," he commented. "Did you lose your other ones when you took flight last time?"

She shook her head at him. "I outgrew them. Besides, they were never mine to wear."

"So I discovered when I went looking for you."

Beneath her mask, her eyes widened. "You looked for me?"

"How could you imagine that I would not?"

Once again they made their way down the line of dancers and when they got to the end, she turned to him. "Do you know who I am?"

He grinned and shook his head. "And I'm not the only one curious to discover the truth, my fairy princess." Ashe nodded to the circle of guests around the ballroom, all gazes fixed on the two of them. "I believe you've created a sensation, Your Highness."

She leaned in a bit. "There was a mistake in the retiring room a suggestion that I am a princess."

"Are you?"

His lady love laughed, this time heartily. "Oh, good heavens, no!"

"I am glad of that."

"Why?"

"Because I suspect there would be all manners of protocol and such to marrying a princess, and I have no patience now that I've found you again."

She shook her head and glanced shyly up into his gaze. "And it doesn't matter to you who I am?"

"No. I was destined to find my bride that night, and I did. You wouldn't have been there that night if we weren't meant to be together."

She laughed, a musical sound that brought back memories for him. "When did you become such a romantic?"

Now it was his turn to laugh. "When you ran out and left me naught a clue to be found. You could have at the very least left me a slipper."

"Or my wings?" she teased back.

"They might have helped, but I doubt the mothers of London would have appreciated me wandering about trying them on their daughters," he said, before he leaned closer to her ear, "or asking them if their little girl had a cute bit of freckle on her-"

She swatted him playfully and danced down the line away from him. Ashe watched her every step and, when they rejoined each other, she said, "I see you haven't lost a bit of your wickedness."

"Do you mind?"

"Not in the least," she replied.

They danced for a few more minutes in silence, just gazing at each other. To Ashe, she was lovelier than he remembered, from the gorgeous mane of red hair down to her slippers. She seemed less fragile than she had those many years earlier.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "And don't you dare tell me you got married."

"No, nothing like that." She tipped her head slightly. "I went away. It seemed the sensible solution at the time."

"Sensible? Not to me! And what do you mean, away? Away where?"

"Far away," she told him. "I thought it best."

"Best for who?" he said. "You stole my heart, you minx." He pulled her close, closer than was necessary for the dance, and whispered in her ear, "Let me guess, you were deserting heartbroken men from one side of the Continent to another."

She shook her head, lips twitching with mirth. "No. I haven't been doing anything like that."

"And when did you come back to London?"

"Six months ago," she confessed.

"And why didn't you come to me?"

It seemed an eternity before she answered. "I almost did," she said, a tremble to her voice. "But I didn't know-"

He stopped in the middle of the floor. "Know what?"

"I didn't know if you would forgive me. Or what that night had meant to you-"

"Did it mean anything to you?"

"More than you could know."

"Then prove it. Say you will marry me."

Then came a loud outburst that drowned out her response. For a red-faced, furious matron at the doorway to the Ashe ballroom stopped the evening cold, as she shouted at the top of her lungs, "That woman is a thief and an imposter!"

Five.

Ashe stalked back and forth in front of the breakfast table where his mother sat eating her morning repast as if nothing were amiss.

"I lost her, Mother! Again!" In the chaos of the Lady Fitzsimon's shouted accusations, his lady love, his fairy queen, had managed to slip through the crowd and get out of the house.

One of the servants had seen her leaving through the garden.

Lady Ashe nodded and smiled and b.u.t.tered her toast without a word.

"How will I ever find her again? I don't even know her name."

"You looked as if you knew each other quite intimately," his mother said. It wasn't so much a scold . . . But really, such a kiss! And in front of the guests. Then again, hadn't her husband kissed her in much the same manner the night they had fallen in love? But he'd had the decency to steal her off to the conservatory on some ridiculous pretence that the oranges were in bloom.

"What if Lady Fitzsimon gets to her first?" he said. "She'll have her thrown in prison."

"Lady Fitzsimon will most likely get to her first," Lady Ashe said.

That froze her son's steps. "Mother, that is the last thing we want to happen."

She shrugged and continued eating her breakfast.

Julian paused before the table. "How can you be so certain that Lady Fitzsimon knows where she is?"

"Because I, just like Lady Fitzsimon, know exactly where that dress came from."

She glanced up at him and he looked ready to burst. Yes, he was in love with that girl and there would be no setting her aside. He'd loved her all these years and no other lady would brighten his heart. Good. It was exactly as it should be. So she pushed aside the tablecloth and pulled from beneath the table a set of gossamer wings. "She lost these last night."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" he exploded.

Lady Ashe smiled, wiped her lips with her napkin. "Because I wanted to finish my breakfast before we went and fetched your future wife home."

Ella emerged from the bas.e.m.e.nt room that she shared with Hazel and Martha a miserable wreck. She'd been able to escape the Ashe Ball the night before her knowledge of the house suddenly becoming rather convenient.

Once she'd found her trusty carriage and helpers, they had whisked her home and scattered into the night. When Hazel and Martha had arrived so many hours later, she had sobbed out the entire story on their sympathetic shoulders.

Now the morning had come and Ella knew the reckoning, the one she'd avoided all those years ago, was about to come to roost. But perhaps it was as Hazel averred there had been no crime committed. Madame Delaflote had demanded that Ella pay for the gown, so technically it was hers. She had found the invitation on the floor of the shop. There was no theft whatsoever.

Not that Madame would see it that way. She'd sack Ella for bringing this scandal down upon her shop, she'd- Ella's wayward thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she parted the curtain before going about the business of opening. She spied a crowd of ladies and onlookers outside, all queued up and waiting for the shop to open. Several of them waved at her and others pointed at the door, in hopes of enticing her to open the shop early.

Lady Fitzsimon stood front and centre with a pair of Robin Redb.r.e.a.s.t.s at the ready. She hadn't wasted any time and was here to exact her reckoning. But that sight didn't frighten Ella as much as did the tall, handsome figure of Lord Ashe standing at the back of the crowd.

He was here!

Ella whirled around and hid behind the curtain. He'd found her after all.

Hazel and Martha had just come upstairs and were rubbing their sleepy eyes.