“Fame is fleeting,” marveled Fitzwilliam and turned again to his Beauty.

Amanda laughed. “Thank you so much, Colonel, for coming to my assistance. I apologize if I have caused you any alarm.”

“Not at all, madam.” He took her hand and held it gently. “It is I who should apologize to you for the behavior of the younger officers. Often at these little parties, there is too much wine and not enough common sense.”

She was introduced to him then by Georgiana as the widow of the deceased baronet Augustus Penrod, and the young girl as the late baronet’s young cousin, after which Georgiana tugged on his sleeve. “Excuse me, dearest of Cousins,” a clearly perplexed Georgiana said with a sigh, “but I am still somewhat confused. About those soldiers who were bothering Lady Penrod—did you not rent a villa in Capri with Major Bachman just two years ago?”

“And her mouth continues unchecked…” Fitzwilliam returned his gaze to Amanda. “Ignore her, madam,” he said. “We all do,” he concluded under his breath.

“I hope that the officers were not too forward with you, Lady Penrod. I will be happy to have a word with them and make certain they apologize to you directly. I can assure you that I will enforce strict disciplinary measures on them all.”

“Oh, no, please don’t bother yourself. I am just so thrilled and honored that you, of all people, came to my rescue.”

Fitzwilliam felt like a strutting peacock.

Chapter 7

For the next two hours, the glittering favored of London society stood up for their dances or sat for their gossip, changed partners with elegant nonchalance, chatted and visited and basked in the intoxicating glow of too much money coupled with too many choices and much too much time. Everyone wanted to be seen and heard, and no one cared much about listening. It was all a performance, honed and perfected over centuries, a familiar presentation that allowed for no surprise conclusions as it continued unchecked through the night. Indeed, to the teeming multitude, it secretly felt as if the orchestra had been playing eternally.

The couple sat alone on the fringes of the assembly, he a high-ranking British officer condescending to speak with a forgotten widow of low status, an unfortunate meeting of complete opposites. They could have nothing in common, coming as they did from different classes, embracing different mores.

However, of all the glittering attendees at this party, it was these two people who felt a spark ignite between them. From the beginning, they set into teasing each other, laughing outrageously at anything the other said, even finishing each other’s sentences. They thought similarly about nearly everything, she with an ease of manner and simplicity that he found delightful, as if they had known each other for years and not moments, he with his lack of pomp or proper attitude. He was easily self-assured without being arrogant. She was warm and friendly without fawning.

Although the woman’s beauty fed the embers of this pursuit, it was the purity of character that fanned the flames into fire. There was humility in her self-deprecating laughter, and joy of life at her core. She made him feel alive and happy to be a man.

For Amanda, she felt her prior attraction to him only intensify. She no longer saw only the famous celebrity whose attentions had flattered and excited her. His masculinity, his strength, made her heart tremble. His self-confidence mesmerized her. He made her feel desired and secure.

“I believe that there will be a waltz played next, Lady Penrod. I would be honored if you would dance it with me.”

Amanda was initially thrilled, over the moon with joy at the prospect of dancing, of again being young and carefree. Her innate common sense, however, soon overcame her. To be seen with this famous man would be courting her former mother-in-law’s ire, to hold him in her arms emotional suicide. He was too attractive, too appealing, her interest too passionate. “I appreciate the honor you do me in asking, Colonel Fitzwilliam; however, I do not dance this evening.” She sighed and repeated the excuse she had prepared earlier, “Out of respect for my late husband.”

He was undeterred. “Your late husband is lucky indeed to have a wife faithful to him so long after he has passed.” Watching her eye the assembly, he sensed the undercurrent of fear for the first time, and his heart ached for whatever was troubling her. “Perhaps if we were to go to a less-conspicuous area, away from quite so many revelers, it would be less objectionable to you. I see that the conservatory is available for dancing.” He motioned toward a series of large glass doors that opened onto a lush greenhouse. “It is a lovely setting and visible enough for respectability, but at the rear of the ballroom, away from being on display, as it were.”

Amanda’s mind began to spin. If I am to be allowed only one night with this man, I must surely seize the moment. Besides, she had not danced in so very long. Looking into his intense gaze, she knew instinctively that she would be protected by him.

“P-p-perhaps… Perhaps that would be acceptable.” Blushing crimson at her stuttering response, she cleared her throat and beamed.

***

From the first notes of the waltz, Amanda was swept up into what seemed like the twirling flight of angels. The conservatory was very large, large enough for exotic, flower-laden trees to tower easily above them. The beautiful ferns, the fragrant blossoms, and marble statues were wasted on the entranced couple, however, so new and exciting was their attachment. It was perfect and private and safe from the public scrutiny she so feared. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the totally female thrill of being protected and cherished, held in the arms of a man for whom she felt the first stirrings of love. It was heaven.

When the dance was over and while still in each other’s arms, they looked intently at each other as couples politely clapped and angled by, trying to escape from the narrow and rather humid confines. Fitzwilliam watched her eyes, understood and shared all her unspoken emotions. He was a mere moment away from enclosing her in his arms and smothering her mouth with his.

Someone nearby cleared his throat. Startled, Fitzwilliam looked to his side to see the three errant officers from before and introduced them to her after a few tense seconds of hesitancy. The major bowed politely. “It is an honor to meet you, madam. I am afraid that we behaved abominably to you earlier and have come to beg your forgiveness. Had we known you were a lady acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam, we would never have behaved so ungentlemanly, nor said such things to you. Again, please accept our apologies.”

“No apologies are needed, gentlemen, but they are accepted.” Amanda was touched by the sincerity of the apology. “In truth, I did not understand much of what you said.”

Too late, she saw the effects of her speech, not because of her words but because of her American accent. One of the captains swore crudely, and the other glared. The major, seeing Fitzwilliam’s livid reaction, immediately stepped in front of his friends. “You have been most gracious, madam, and again, it was an honor to meet you. Make certain that the colonel brings you to the refreshment room. Good evening, madam, sir.” With that, he turned and roughly shoved the two soldiers on their way.

There remained an edgy silence that hung in the air between them. Fitzwilliam was furious, with himself as much as the men. He knew them and how they had changed over the years, become more calloused and bitter from warfare, from the deaths and maiming of their friends in battles both on the Continent and in America. He had been distancing himself from many of these former colleagues, uneasy as he was with their hatred and talk of vengeance.

“I thank you most kindly for the wonderful waltz, Colonel. Please do not feel any obligation to bring me refreshments. I will return to my seat.” Her eyes looked sadly into his. “Believe me when I say how beholden I am to you for making this a joyous evening for me.” She bowed and began to turn, when he took her elbow.

“You won’t escape me that easily, madam.” His voice sounded gruff as he placed her hand upon his arm. “Never again.”

Chapter 8

Darcy was grinning, still delighting in the memory of his cousin’s irritated reaction to the elegant bow and gracious compliments he bestowed upon Lady Penrod at their introduction. In fact, he was purposely continuing those attentions as he now joined the couple at their table for refreshments.

“Don’t let us keep you, Darcy.” Fitzwilliam grunted as Darcy ignored him to pull up a chair and turn to address Amanda. Within seconds, Georgiana and Emily also arrived. “I’m certain you all have somewhere else to be… anywhere else…” He was growing very tired of trying to be subtle. Soon he would be flinging them all out the door.

“Nonsense, Cousin, we don’t mind.” Georgiana was sipping happily on her lemonade, relieved to be away from the crush. “It is just so good to have some quiet privacy, is it not? It is impossible to visit intimately with all those people surrounding you. Well, you two seem to be hitting it off quite splendidly.”

“Yes. I am afraid I have monopolized too much of the colonel’s time this evening, and he has been very kind.”

“I have enjoyed every moment.” His eyes devoured the young woman then turned to Darcy and silently commanded him to leave. Darcy gleefully ignored him.

“Georgiana has told me of the officers who were bothering you earlier this evening. Apparently the colonel rescued you from some scoundrels.” Darcy had to avert his eyes from his cousin’s obvious irritation.

“Oh yes, he was quite magnificent.” The besotted couple stared at each other, lost to the world. Amanda forced herself to turn away. “Truth be told, I did not understand much of what they said. There are so many colorful terms.”

“Give us an example, madam, and we shall do our best to enlighten. The cant vernacular can be confusing even to a native.”

Amanda began to share with them some of the slang words that had been used by the officers. They were able to explain one or two to her, amid growing laughter. Phrases like “plant him a facer” and “watering pot” were easily explained.

“‘Lobsterback?’” Amanda chuckled.

“‘British soldier,’” supplied Georgiana.

“Really? What about ‘soiled dove’?”

“‘A lady of the evening,’” muttered Fitzwilliam, “and I’m going to kill them.”

Amanda patted his hand tenderly. “I am not offended. Please do not cause a fuss; besides, this is such fun. There was one officer who fancied himself a ‘rum cove.’”

Fitzwilliam explained that was a word for a ‘clever rogue,’ his voice rising to be heard over the raucous chatter of a particular group walking by them.

“Oh, then perhaps that was what the other word meant, the word that was said back to him.”

“What word was that, madam?” Darcy strained to hear as he retrieved champagne from a passing waiter.

“‘ Bollocks,’” she called out loudly at the very moment the chattering stopped.

***

Georgiana, Darcy, and Fitzwilliam were waiting alongside the fringes of the ballroom. “Do you think… she’ll ever return?” Darcy spoke aloud to no one in particular. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stood casually, biting his lip, his eyes cast toward the ceiling. Fitzwilliam did not respond, just leaned his shoulder against the wall and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. He lowered his head in a vain attempt to disguise his grin.

Georgiana was angry. “You are both no better than twelve-year-olds.” She shook her head while her brother rubbed his face rather vigorously.

“If only she had not spoken so loudly.” After a moment, the two cousins turned their heads away from each other as they choked back laughter.

“I see I do a disservice to twelve-year-olds.”

“Georgiana is right.” Fitzwilliam attempted a more serious look. “I only hope we haven’t upset her too much with our teasing.” It took only a second for the men to begin laughing again.

“I am going to find her. Richard, I think you should come along, and, Brother, you go see to our aunt, who is again turning this way.” Georgiana stared at the two men, daring them to refuse.

“I’ll go intercept Aunt Catherine.” A still laughing Darcy went off, dramatically sighing at his martyrdom.