Simply Magic

the first time he had stood in a receiving line. It was the first time he had been the host of such an event.

It would not be the last, by Jove.

The party from Fincham was almost the last to arrive. Lady Markham came along the line with Theo, and Peter greeted them heartily. His mother and Lady Markham, he noticed, nodded civilly to each other. Edith and Morley followed and then Colonel and Mrs. Osbourne. Susanna came last with her maternal grandfather.

Peter discovered that his heart was thudding so hard in his chest that he could actually hear it.

She was wearing the same green gown she had worn to the assembly in Somerset and to the concert in Bath Abbey. Her hair was brushed into soft curls, some of which were held in place by a little pearl tiara, which matched her pearl necklace. The pearls looked glossy and new and were, he would be willing to wager, a Christmas gift from one or more of her grandparents. Perhaps the delicate ivory fan she carried in one gloved hand was from the other.

Her cheeks were flushed but her eyes were downcast. She was not smiling. She would rather be anywhere else on earth than where she actually was, Peter guessed. Perhaps she would never forgive him for this. Perhaps she would always remember it as one of the worst evenings she had ever spent.

“It is good to see you again, sir,” he said, bowing to the Reverend Clapton, who beamed genially back at him. “And you too, Miss Osbourne.”

She raised her eyes briefly to his.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said.

There was no one coming along directly after them. He spoke up before he should, perhaps, miss the opportunity.

“Will you honor me by dancing the second set with me?” he asked. “And the first waltz?”

He would dance the last one with her too-he hoped.

Her grandfather beamed even more jovially.

She hesitated for only a fraction of a moment.

“Thank you,” she said. “That will be pleasant.”

He would have asked for the opening set, but he would not embarrass her by singling her out so notably before all his family and neighbors. He would open the ball with Barbara.

The Reverend Clapton was bowing to his mother and smiling as he exchanged civilities with her. Peter was more than ever convinced that the name Whitleaf meant nothing to the gentleman-or to the Osbournes.

But Susanna’s eyes were downcast again as she curtsied, and he could feel his mother stiffen.

“Miss Osbourne,” she said, “how delightful that you are staying at Fincham at just this time. Do enjoy the ball.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Susanna said without looking up at her.

It must have been an excruciating moment for each of them, Peter thought. Was he quite, quite mad to believe that he could ever marry Susanna and live happily-ever-after with her? But no, he had already decided that he did not believe in happily-ever-after. And he had already decided too that he would fight for happiness.

The moment was past, and both ladies were still in the ballroom, and both were smiling.

“Peter.” Barbara linked an arm through his. “It is surely time to start the dancing. I am quite unwilling to delay any longer since I am to dance the opening set with my handsome brother. I will be the envy of every other lady in the room.”

He laughed as he led her onto the floor, to the head of the set that soon formed for the first country dance. Suddenly he felt lighthearted and filled with hope. It was Christmas, after all, the time of year most devoted to hope and new dreams and love.

“I am amazed to see Susanna Osbourne here,” Barbara said. “Do you remember her? Her father was that unfortunate secretary of Sir Charles’s who took his own life. We were always discouraged from having anything to do with her because her father was basically a servant, though Edith played with her all the time. And yet I always believed there was something of a friendship between Mama and Mr. Osbourne.”

“I met her only once as a child,” Peter said. “But I met her again this past summer at John Raycroft’s and again during the autumn at the wedding breakfast in Bath I attended with Lauren and Kit.”

“Did you?” she said with interest.

And then she glanced at Susanna, who was being led onto the floor by Theo, and looked back at him more sharply.

“Oh, did you!” she said.

Susanna reflected in some wonder on the fact that until the end of August she had never attended a single ball or assembly, whereas now she had been to two, and she had waltzed in the Upper Assembly Rooms in Bath.

And tonight she even had her grandmother as her chaperone and one grandfather to smile kindly at each of her prospective partners and another to frown suspiciously at them.

Although half the guests were clearly members of the ton and might have intimidated her a few months ago, all of them were just as clearly prepared to enjoy themselves. And the other half of the guests were what she thought of as ordinary people. They reminded her of Frances’s neighbors whom she liked so well.

The ballroom, heavily laden with Christmas greenery and decorations, was breathtaking. Even without the decorations it would be a lovely room, she guessed. It was amazing that she had lived so close to Sidley for twelve years without once even so much as seeing the house.

She would have been enjoying herself enormously, she thought at the end of the fourth set as the very young and eager Mr. Flynn-Posy led her back to her grandmother’s side, if only…

Ah, her life had been blighted with if-onlys since the summer.

She would forget them for tonight. She would simply enjoy herself. She had already danced four sets in a row-one of them, a set of vigorous country dances, with Peter. The next set was to be a waltz.

She would not even think of it as the last waltz.

“You dance so prettily, Susanna,” her grandmother said, taking her by the hand and drawing her down to sit beside her. “And you are so pretty. How proud I am of you, and how happy to have lived to see this day.”

And then Peter was there again, bowing and smiling and charming her grandmother, and finally turning to her and holding out one hand.

“This is my waltz, I believe, Miss Osbourne,” he said.

And then once more they were waltzing. Except that this time, though she smiled into his eyes and smelled his cologne and felt the exhilaration of every step they took, she did not lose herself in the dance. This time she was aware of his home about them and his family and neighbors. She was aware of her own family and almost wept at the novelty of the thought. She was aware of her friends-and the Markhams and Morleys were her friends and always had been. She did not know what Lady Markham had meant in that long-ago snippet of conversation she had overheard outside the nursery, and she had not asked, but she knew now that Lady Markham had always cared for her and would have somehow continued to do so. It really must have been a burden to be left so suddenly with an orphan child and not to know what to do with her.

And she was aware of Christmas, that season of love and family and peace and generosity.

It was all, she thought, simply magical.