The Vicar's Widow

“How kind of you to remark. But I must give all credit to my partner, for she makes it quite easy to move about the dance floor,” he said, and twirled her around, pulling her closer as he did. Emily could only hope that her knees wouldn’t buckle with the force of her exhilaration.

She stared at his perfectly tied neckcloth for a moment, trying to push the feel of his hands on her body out of the forefront of her mind. When she looked up again, she noted that his gaze had shifted away from her; he was looking at someone else. “My mother and I enjoyed our ride in the park,” she said quickly to draw his attention back to her.

“Did you? I found it quite pleasant, particularly after the rain we’ve endured.”

“Yes indeed . . . I am glad the rain has gone for the time being, but I’m rather impressed with the spring flowers that have begun to pop up. They are flourishing in the park.”

“Quite right, Miss Forysthe. I am certain that in a fortnight’s time, the blooms will be a magnificent sight to behold.” He twirled her one way, then the other.

“Yellow tulips are my favorite,” she added breathlessly, and had a sudden image of him on her doorstep, an enormous bouquet of yellow tulips wrapped in bright paper in his arms.

“Mmm,” he said, twirling her around again.

“Do you have a favorite flower, my lord?”

The question seemed to take him aback; he blinked. “I don’t believe I have a favorite, Miss Forsythe. I like them all, I suppose. Including your yellow tulips.”

Emily beamed up at him. He smiled again, then shifted his gaze above her head, and spun her into the thick of the dancers. He did not speak again, and Emily, having quite exhausted her repertoire of suitable things to discuss with a gentleman when one is dancing, could not seem to find anything to say. It was as if her mind was completely blank, save the incredible sensation of his hands on her body.

As the dance came to its conclusion, Montgomery stepped back and bowed, and Emily curtsied, frantically thinking of how to keep his attention. As he escorted her from the dance floor, she could think of absolutely nothing civilized with which to keep him engaged, and in a moment of sheer insanity, she put the back of her hand to her forehead and said in a whimper, “I feel a bit weak.”

Montgomery instantly put his hand on her back to steady her and grabbed her arm. “Are you quite all right, Miss Forsythe?”

Not entirely, for she hadn’t thought past this bit of drama, and now she felt as if she’d gone too far with it. She didn’t know what to do—other than faint.

Right into his arms.

She heard the shriek of a woman, heard Montgomery bark for someone to clear the way, felt him pick her up, one arm beneath her knees, the other beneath her back, and carry her—carry her!—to the chairs along the wall. As he put her down in a chair, he pressed his palm to her face. “Miss Forsythe!”

Emily slowly opened her eyes—he was kneeling before her, looking terribly concerned. She had not imagined a moment such as this could be so unbearably romantic and chastised herself for not thinking of it weeks earlier than this. What if she’d fainted at the church social? That would have sped things along quite well.

“Dear God, Miss Forsythe, are you quite all right? Do you feel ill?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” she said weakly.

“Stand aside, son—I’m a physician,” an old man said and leaned down before Emily. Dr. Hamblen’s face loomed so large as he peered into her eyes that she could no longer see Lord Montgomery. Blast it all, Dr. Hamblen was ruining everything! Even worse, several people had gathered round her and were staring at her with fright and concern. All but Tabitha, that was, who appeared on Emily’s left and gazed down at her with complete disdain.

Emily ignored Tabitha and strained to see around Dr. Hamblen—who was now holding two fingers against the pulse in her neck—to see Montgomery.

He was standing back, his hands on his hips, his legs braced apart, watching intently as Dr. Hamblen examined her.

“Her heart is racing a bit, but I think it nothing to fret about,” the doctor proclaimed, straightening, and turning to Montgomery. “She’s a healthy young lady. I’ve seen this sort of thing more than once—young ladies just out become caught up in the sights and sounds of a ball, you see, but their tender constitutions are not mature enough to endure all the excitement.”

“Thank God it’s nothing serious,” Montgomery said and looked at Emily. “My dear Miss Forsythe, you gave me quite a fright,” he said kindly. “I should not have stayed with you so long on the dance floor.”

“Oh, no!” she insisted weakly. “It is not your fault, my lord! I am certain it’s the heat—I find it rather warm in here.”

“A spot of punch will cool her down,” Dr. Hamblen said.

“I’ll fetch it,” Tabitha sighed wearily.

Dr. Hamblen looked at Montgomery and smiled. “You need not fret, my lord. I suggest you go about your evening. I shall keep a close eye on her for a few moments and ensure she is suitably recovered.”

“You’re quite certain?”