Page 58 of To Dance with a Devil

“Do we know what Jerome has come as yet?” Bonnie asked, her heart thudding with excitement as they made their way to the ballroom.

“No, he wouldn’t tell me, the aggravating boy,” Lady St Clair said with a sigh. “No matter how I plagued him. Though I wouldn’t tell him what you were wearing either, so I suppose it’s fair.”

They paused just outside the grand double doors and Lady St Clair looked Bonnie over, a critical gaze that surveyed her daughter-in-law from head to toe.

“Very regal,” she said with an approving nod. “Now then, come along, let us set tongues wagging. I’m just dying to put Lady Sumner’s nose out of joint, spiteful cat that she is.”

Bonnie threw her head back and laughed as the footmen opened the doors and Lady St Clair swept them both through into the ballroom. Everyone stared.

“Don’t fail me now, Bonnie,” Lady St Clair murmured as Bonnie’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the hundreds of people watching her. “Chin up. You’re a queen, remember.”

Bonnie turned to her mother-in-law, who winked at her, and her nerves melted away under that supportive gaze. She grinned.

“Now, where is Jerome?” Bonnie demanded, staring about the assembled company as they moved through the ballroom, searching for him, until her gaze settled on a man dressed all in black. There were horns visible in his thick blond hair and a wicked glint in the blue eyes that glittered behind the mask. The devil.

Bonnie gave a squeal of delight and launched herself at him.

“Ooof!” Jerome said, staggering back a pace. “Bonnie Campbell, you wretch. I always said you’d go to the devil.”

“So did everyone,” she laughed, kissing him, right there in front of everyone as gasps and murmurs of mingled amusement and shock rippled through the ballroom.

“Well, I think you’ve set the tone for the evening, Bonnie,” Lady St Clair said dryly. She made a shooing motion at them both. “Run along and play, wicked children, but if you’re too dreadful, I shall disown you both.”

“That sounds fair,” Jerome replied leaning in to kiss his mama. She gave him an adoring look and patted his cheek before turning back to Bonnie.

“What are you waiting for? Go and dance with your devil. Show the world how happy we are to make you a part of this family, and just how perfectly you fit in.”

Bonnie did not need telling twice and, seconds later, she was in her husband’s arms, being whirled about the dance floor. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness. After everything that had happened, she had finally found what she’d been searching for. Though the loss of their child was still a tender corner of her heart, she knew they had time, that there would be other children, and that she was a part of something now. She didn’t have to be alone any longer. So she danced as though it was her last day on earth, though it felt like the first, and she laughed, her heart bursting with joy and gratitude for everything she had.

“This is what I love about you,” Jerome said, drawing her attention back to his handsome face. He was staring down at her with such a look in his eyes that her breath caught. “You’re so alive. Everyone else just moves through the steps of a dance but dancing with you… it’s like an adventure.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Bonnie’s voice was a little thick, emotion catching in her throat. How was a girl supposed to hear such words and keep her composure? She wondered if this evening could possibly be any more perfect.

“Really?” Jerome said in surprise. “Goodness, I shall have to do better than that, then.”

“Oh, yes please,” she murmured with a sigh, before adding, “But not yet, for you’ll make me cry and I don’t want to do that. Not now.”

“I’ll save it for later, then,” he promised, his expression grave, and swept her into a series of turns that made her feel as if she was flying.

***

“Are you all right, Matilda?” Bonnie asked. She had been on her way out of the ballroom, her plans for the rest of the evening something she had not yet confided to her husband. A respectable married lady she may be, but she didn’t see why that should put an end to her fun. Matilda looked pale and rather out of sorts, though, and Bonnie could not pass her by without speaking to her. “You look a little peaky.”

Matilda turned towards her, a distant look in her eyes that suggested she’d not heard what Bonnie had said. Her expression cleared as she focused on Bonnie, and fixed a smile to her face that was not entirely convincing.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. I was wool gathering. Yes, I’m quite all right. Though… I wanted to speak with you, if you have a moment. About Ruth.”

Bonnie nodded, guilt tugging at her stomach. She too had been thinking about Ruth. The thought that she might have failed her friend nagged at her. At the time she’d been so overwrought by her own situation that she feared she’d not done enough for Ruth, and not explained just what she was letting herself in for. She ought to have taken more note of the look in Ruth’s eyes, the one she recognised well enough, as she’d felt the same overwhelming need when she’d first seen Jerome. As impulsive as Bonnie was, however, she’d still taken a bit of time to get to know him first. Though, being fair, if she’d had a dowry of fifty thousand to bribe him with, perhaps she’d have proposed to Jerome on the spot too.

It seemed strange to her that Ruth should feel that way about Gordon, but to each his own. She’d found him too big and clumsy. He was an ignorant brute in her eyes, fit only to live out in the wilds of the Highlands. How Ruth, a gently bred woman who’d been brought up to fit in with the young ladies of the ton, would cope with him she didn’t know. Not that Ruth was a shrinking violet, far from it, but surely her new husband would frighten the life out of her. Yet it hadn’t been fear she’d seen in Ruth’s eyes, not even close.

Matilda drew her to one side. “What is he like?”

Bonnie didn’t need a name to identify that Matilda spoke of Ruth’s new husband.

“I hardly dare say,” Bonnie said with a weak smile. “After everything I told you.”

Whenever she’d mentioned Gordon Anderson, she’d maligned both his character and his appearance. Not to mention his personal hygiene. She wasn’t entirely sure why, except that she resented being forced to marry against her will and the fact that he only wanted her for her dowry, as he couldn’t stand her any more than she could him. It was a petty revenge perhaps, but it had been strangely satisfying.