A tall, graceful lady and her equally noble husband came to a stop beside Ella. The woman glanced over her shoulder at Lady Fitzsimon and then back at Ella. “Dreadful woman. No manners.”
“Yes, quite,” Ella replied, imitating the same bored, elegant tones.
“Oh, heavens, I can’t recall where the retiring room is,” the woman said, before turning to one of the footmen. “Which way?”
He bowed slightly and then pointed up the stairs, not that Ella needed directions. She’d imagined the Ashe house over and over these past five years.
“Come along, my dear,” the lady said. “I do so hate going up alone.”
As they made their way up the stairs, Ella shot a glance towards the ballroom, searching for her knight errant. But in the crowd of guests, it was impossible to find him — then again, she remembered, he would be in costume.
Not that she thought he could hide his identity from her. Not even after all these years. Still, whatever was she going to say to him?
They went upstairs and, to Ella’s relief, Hazel and Martha were there, helping the guests and making small repairs to various ladies’ costumes. Madame Delaflote often hired them out, at a considerable profit, to provide these services.
Hazel nudged Martha when Ella arrived, and Hazel hurried over to help her take off her cloak.
The moment the cloak was removed, an awed hush came over the crowded room, as all eyes turned towards Ella. Her costume, her hair — done up in a cascade of curls that fell down to her back — the glitter of the silver embroidery, and the soft glow of a thousand seed pearls, caused a sensation.
“You made it in,” Hazel whispered, as she checked Ella’s back to make certain her wings were still intact.
“Yes, your friends played their part perfectly.”
The girl grinned. “This is the best lark—”
“That could end with us all being sacked. Lady Fitzsimon is downstairs determined to get in.”
Hazel waved her off. “Let her try. She hasn’t an invitation. As for being sacked …” The girl shrugged and then glanced around the room. Every eye was on the two of them. Well, on Ella. Hazel went back to work, with her nose in the air, setting Ella’s gown to rights. “We’ll not be sacked. For when you are Lady Ashe, Madame Delaflote won’t dare.” She knelt down and straightened the hemline. And with that completed, Hazel curtseyed slightly and said, “All is well, your highness.”
Ella’s eyes widened even as a gossipy trill ran through the room.
“A princess?”
“But from where?”
“Have you seen such a gown?”
Hazel sent her a cheeky wink and then there was nothing left for Ella to do but to go and face her past.
Lord Ashe stood in the ballroom and watched the parade of masked and costumed debutantes, ladies and likely brides stroll past.
But none of them was her.
And tonight was his last chance to find her. Not that he had much hope left. For every year, as each subsequent ball came and went, and she hadn’t arrived, he’d begun to wonder if she’d ever existed, his lady in green silk.
Where are you? he mused. We are running out of time.
Then a strange hushed air moved through the crowd, followed by a tremor of whispers. One after another, the guests turned towards the entrance to gaze at the latest arrival.
Ashe stilled as he spied the graceful lady making her entrance.
No, it couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be.
But then she turned her head and he spied something he had dared not hope to see. For on the back of her costume perched a pair of gossamer wings. Fairy wings.
Ashe pushed his way forwards without thinking. He ignored the insulted gasps of his guests pressing his way through the crowd, even as speculative whispers whirled around him.
“A princess, I heard.”
“Russian, I believe.”
“Wherever did she get that costume?”
Then before he realized it, she stood before him.
“You!” he exclaimed. “I’ve found you!”
She smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling behind her mask. “No, I believe I found you.”
“It doesn’t matter how you’ve come back,” he told her, catching her by the hand and drawing her into his arms. “I won’t lose you again.” Then, to seal his vow, his head dipped down and his lips captured hers.
The night from five years ago came back to him in rich clarity. It was her, the same sweet response, the same curves, the same soft sigh as he deepened his kiss and plundered her lips without any thought of propriety. And when he pulled back and held her at arm’s length, he could only exclaim, “Devil take me, my love, I cannot believe I have found you.”
“Believe again,” she whispered, raising her lips to his and again, they kissed, much to the shocked gasps of the company around them.
“I have imagined this so many times,” he whispered in her ear.
“You have?” She sounded surprised.
“Yes, of course,” he told her. “You left me bewitched and lost that night.”
“I did?” Truly, how could she be so surprised? Hadn’t that night meant as much to her?
“Yes, you did,” he told her with every bit of his heart, and an unabashed grin from ear to ear.
Her eyes sparkled beneath her mask. “And now?”
He grinned even more if that was possible. “I am still yours, my fey sweet love, if you will have me.”
“I …” she stammered, much as she had years before, and he realized he had to tread carefully lest he frighten her off yet again. He hadn’t another five years to wait.
The musicians struck up their instruments and Ashe smiled at her, holding her slim hand in his. “Come, you owe me this dance. One of many, I might add. I’ve been waiting all these years for your return.”
He unmasked himself then led her out to the dance floor, to the amazed and scandalized stares of his guests. For it appeared to one and all that the Ashe legend was about to come true and the viscount had found his bride.
More than one matron with an unmarried daughter in tow and her hopes now dashed for an advantageous marriage, cursed this interloper, this princess from out of nowhere.
Ashe led her out to where the couples were lining up for the first set and, when the music began, it was as if time had not moved a tick since the ball five years earlier.
“Your hair is red,” he teased as they came together.
“Are you disappointed?”
“No, enchanted. It is glorious,” he whispered. He knew what it felt like, but now he could see the ginger strands and honeyed colours. He imagined what those silken tresses would look like spread out over his sheets, unbound and cascading all over her naked shoulders. “The colour matches your unmanageable temperament, as I recall.”
She laughed. “You remember!”
“There is nothing I have forgotten,” he told her.
They turned and moved down a long line of dancers before being reunited at the end of the floor.
“I see you found new wings,” he commented. “Did you lose your other ones when you took flight last time?”
She shook her head at him. “I outgrew them. Besides, they were never mine to wear.”
“So I discovered when I went looking for you.”
Beneath her mask, her eyes widened. “You looked for me?”
“How could you imagine that I would not?”
Once again they made their way down the line of dancers and when they got to the end, she turned to him. “Do you know who I am?”
He grinned and shook his head. “And I’m not the only one curious to discover the truth, my fairy princess.” Ashe nodded to the circle of guests around the ballroom, all gazes fixed on the two of them. “I believe you’ve created a sensation, Your Highness.”
She leaned in a bit. “There was a mistake in the retiring room — a suggestion that I am a princess.”