Page 27 of One Perfect Dance
Chapter Eleven
Lady Barker—Elaine—had beenable 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.
Ash continued to follow Regina around the room, acknowledging the rest of the introductions while wondering what on earth Deffew was doing here. Was he courting Regina? Elaine had said the bees had gathered last year, some meaning marriage and some a less permanent arrangement. Regina had encouraged none of them.
Surely, Deffew did not think to compete with some of the other men even in this room? His family had been on the fringes of Society and the bare bones of their backsides when Ash knew them. Perhaps that had changed? If not, he had nothing to recommend him. He was as much of a dandy as ever but had aged poorly—his thinning hair slicked over a bald pate, and his brightly-colored waistcoat stretched over a torso that had long given up any pretensions to a waistline.
As for character, the man Ash had known sixteen years ago had been a cypher, adopting his morals, his manners, and his ideas from anyone he looked up to or feared. Mouth, at the time, was both. If Dilly was that way as he approached thirty, sixteen years was unlikely to make a difference.
To be fair, I barely know Regina or what she wants in her next husband. Ash’s heart objected. Through her letters, he felt he knew her better than he knew anyone else on earth, except perhaps Rex.
Ash found himself ensconced in the place of honor next to the hostess, fielding questions about his most recent voyage. “We were most recently in Russia,” he explained. “We have the manuscript for a book on our travels through India and on into Central Asia and have begun one on the trip up the Volga River to the tsar’s court, and then down to the Nordic Sea.”
He answered some eager questions and told a couple of anecdotes about the tsar’s court. His audience appeared appreciative. Nonetheless, he was pleased when Lady Deerhaven stood and announced to the room at large they had all been there quite long enough and should leave Mrs. Paddimore to enjoy her reunion with her childhood friend.
Everyone stood and began saying their goodbyes. Everyone except Dilly. Lady Deerhaven said, “Come along, Mr. Deffew, you too.”
“But I am family, you know,” he insisted. “Ash will not mind if I remain to hear the more personal stories.”
Ash turned his most practiced social smile on the wretch, baring his teeth in a far- from-sociable grin. “Another time, perhaps,” he said. “I do not wish to keep you.” And never a truer word was spoken.
Deffew was obviously not any cleverer than he had been sixteen years ago, for he said, “I don’t mind waiting. Truly. Perhaps we could go out for a drink after you and the charming widow have completed your reunion.”
“That will not be possible,” Ash told him, keeping his smile pasted on for the sake of the audience.
“Do stop delaying, Deffew,” commanded Deerhaven. “Come along.” Deffew had, of course, risen to his feet when the ladies did, and now Stancroft and Deerhaven stood, one each side of him, and marched him out the door. They did not precisely lug him by the elbows, but they certainly managed to give the impression they were keeping that option open. In moments, the room was emptied of everyone except “my cousin, Mrs. Austin.” Presumably, she belonged in the house. A companion, perhaps?
