Page 19 of A Midwinter Wager

The music wavered, ended, and they spun to a halt. Fitz bowed over her hand, but his eyes never left her face. She fought her way out of the spell he’d created, lest she say—or do—something idiotic, and noticed the room was far less crowded than it had been.

"Where did everybody go?"

He didn't reply. Taking her hand, he led her back to her party, where Alicia immediately jumped up saying, "Fitz. It was too kind of you to dance with Cesca. There would have been gossip had you not, wouldn't there?"

He still held her hand, but as he stood so close to her, only someone behind them would have noticed. Crackles of electricity, like summer lightning, leaped from his body to hers. Propriety and convention were stripped away, leaving her indifferent to anything but the feel of Fitz's hand. Not that Alicia would have noticed, for Captain Brandt had joined her, and she appeared more than entertained by his conversation.

When Fitz finally released her, Cesca felt more alone than ever and decided another visit to the punchbowl was in order. But before she could move, he restrained her with the lightest of touches, then announced, "I'm going to find out why the guests have started disappearing so early."

She forced herself not to watch as he strode off in search of the Assembly Rooms’ Master of Ceremonies. The last thing she wanted to do was give away her feelings in front of Alicia.

"Cesca.” Her stepsister patted the empty seat next to her. “You must come and talk to Captain Brandt. He met Fitz in Flanders when he first joined the regiment. I'd no idea my fiancé had such charming friends."

"We've met," said Cesca, reluctantly taking the proffered seat.

Brandt stood and bowed politely. "I've already had the honor of several dances with your sister,” he informed Alicia. “And I wouldn't say your beau and I were friends exactly—more in the way of… colleagues, I suppose. But I'll accept the compliment, nonetheless."

Cesca supposed she shouldn’t condemn Alicia for flirting with Brandt, not when she'd spent most of her evening flirting with the officers herself. Her reason had been to show Alicia she no longer cared about the theft of Fitz and perhaps—although she wasn’t proud of herself for it—to make him jealous. Although now, having been held in his arms, she knew her love for Fitz to be still very much alive, and the pain sat inside her like cold-bladed steel, ready to inflict further wounds each time she set eyes on him. Which happened a lot, despite her best efforts. Her gaze was glued to his tall, elegant form as he moved around talking to the other guests, before escorting Lady Widbrook from the room.

When he finally returned to their party, his face was grave. "The snow's coming down faster and settling. Those with longer journeys to make have already left, and we'd be advised to do the same before traveling becomes either dangerous or impossible. Miss Heathcote," he added, turning to Cesca. "My aunt has gone to collect her cloak and will be leaving immediately for Mountney Hall."

He offered her his arm, but as she rose to take it, Alicia protested. "Oh, no, Fitz, she can't go yet—I've hardly spoken a word to her. Papa will be cross if we return too soon, so we must stay a little longer—I'm so enjoying myself."

His expression darkened, but he recovered himself quickly. "Of course, we may stay a little longer. But I want to see your stepsister safely on her way back to my aunt’s and make a foray out of doors at the same time to assess the weather for myself. Miss Heathcote?" The arm was offered again.

"No, Fitz, don't make her go! She can come back with us, can't she? There's plenty of room in the carriage. I've barely begun to tell her about all the plans I have for Beaulieu when we marry, or the improvements I've already suggested for Lonsdale."

Fitz winced, then shot Cesca a meaningful look. "The choice is yours, Miss Heathcote."

If she stayed, they’d be able to talk—that hand-clasp told her that he still cared, that their story wasn't yet over. If Alicia continued to focus all her attention on Captain Brandt, it would be easy to steal a moment or two.

"I'll stay," she said. "But I must make my apologies to Lady Widbrook first, so she doesn't think I've abandoned her."

Fitz signaled his approval with an unsmiling nod and placed her hand on his arm. How exquisite it felt to be walking arm-in-arm, crossing the ballroom with him. She held her head high, letting herself imagine they were a couple. Although if they were, she hoped he'd be looking a lot less somber.

Apologies were made, and farewells said. When Fitz went in search of his coat, he fetched Cesca's cloak as well, so she could stand in the open doorway and wave Lady Widbrook off.

Even after her ladyship's carriage had been swallowed by the night, Cesca remained, gazing out at the darkness. Mesmerized, she watched the snowflakes as they suddenly sprang into existence in the light emanating from the house, then swirled to the ground in a never-ending cascade. Fitz stood beside her, watching too. It was beautiful. The scene, the moment, the man. She would store this memory away and treasure it, revisiting it whenever melancholy threatened to reduce her to tears.

But the beauty of the moment was not yet over. Fitz pulled her tightly against him. She softened against his body, resting her head on his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and let out a deep breath of contentment.

It felt so right. He was still her best friend. She needed him, and she'd been an idiot to doubt him. But questions still had to be asked.

She tugged at the lapel of his evening coat. "Why didn't you answer my note?"

He sighed heavily. "Alicia burnt it.” His voice was taut as he added, “Right in front of me."

"What?" Cesca freed herself and stared up at him, unbelieving. "I never imagined she’d stoop that low."

"She's determined to marry me. And half the ton expect it, it seems. Trust me—I have no intention of giving in, whatever the scandal. Lord, Cesca, I thought I'd lost you! Could you not have tried writing to me again? You must have guessed when I didn't follow up your note that there must be something amiss."

She leaned in again and nestled her head beneath his chin, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "I thought you didn't want me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "I supposed you must have buckled under the pressure from both our families and agreed to wed Alicia." Voicing her stepsister's name almost choked her. How could Alicia have done such a terrible thing? Poor Fitz. How must he have felt?

"Never," was his vehement reply. "I came to your house early the day after your father refused me, having realized you were right. We should elope and be damned to the consequences. But you'd gone."

His arms clamped more tightly around her, and she felt them breathe as one. Being apart for so long made their reunion so much more poignant, bittersweet but beautiful. Her battered heart would never withstand another parting.

Hardly had the words formed in her head, before they escaped her lips. "I love you."

Shocked at what she'd revealed, she made to pull away. But Fitz trapped her in his embrace, holding her tightly against him.

"I love you back," he said.