Winterset by Candace Camp Page B

Mrs. Burroughs turned toward them, smiling. “You are speaking of your uncle, I collect?”
    “Yes. Dr. Felton kindly inquired after his health.”
    “Dear Lord de Winter,” Mrs. Burroughs said, beaming. “We do miss him, don’t we, dear?”
    As her uncle had rarely darkened the door of the church, Anna rather doubted that sentiment, but she merely smiled and nodded.
    “How long has he been away now? Ten years, is it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Likes the tropics, does he?” the vicar said with his kind smile. “Can’t say I blame him. Sometimes, when my elbow aches in the winter, I could wish I were in Barbados myself.”
    “Yes. It is very pleasant there, I understand. Of course, we do not hear from Uncle Charles very often. He was never much of a correspondent, I fear.”
    Out of the corner of her eye, Anna could see Reed walking toward them, so, with a smile, she eased out of the group and made her way over to where Kyria stood, chatting with Kit and Rosemary Farrington. In the same manner she managed to avoid him for much of the next hour.
    As the party wore on, Kyria did indeed open up the floor for dancing. Anna took to the floor first with her brother, and after that she stood up with Dr. Felton, then Miles Bennett. She had danced often enough with both of them, for generally the same people attended every social gathering. Dr. Felton was an adequate, if methodical, dancer, but Miles Bennett was a poor partner, concentrating on his footwork to the exclusion of all else, including the music, so that while he did not tromp all over her feet, he did tend to push and pull her about the floor without much regard to the beat of the music.
    It was a relief when the dance ended and she was able to curtsey to Miles and leave the floor. However, as she turned to walk away, she found Reed standing in her path, a cup of lemonade in his hand.
    “You look as if you could use this,” he told her, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth as he held out the cup to her.
    Anna could not help but chuckle and take the drink from him. “It is a rather energetic exercise, dancing with Miles,” she agreed, then sipped thirstily.
    “Perhaps you will allow me to lead you out for the next dance, then. I promise I am not so quick-footed.”
    Anna remembered all too well how Reed danced, and just the thought of it set up nervous trembles in her stomach. She looked up at him. There was nothing in his face of the anger or bitterness that had been there the last time they had talked, nothing but polite interest. She should not waltz with him, she knew, but, on the other hand, it would seem odd and impolite not to dance with her host.
    “I—thank you. Of course.” The truth was, she knew, that she wanted to dance with him again. It was foolish, just as it had been foolish to come here, but she could not seem to keep from doing it. She took another nervous sip of the lemonade.
    Then the first notes of the music sounded, and Reed took the cup from her, setting it aside on a nearby table, and gave her his arm to lead her out onto the floor. She took it, hoping he could not feel the faint trembling of her fingers through his suit jacket. He turned to face her, one hand going to her waist, the other curving around her hand, and they swept out onto the floor.
    Anna’s heart lifted with the music. Dancing with Reed was like heaven after Miles’ clumsy efforts. She floated across the floor, very aware of the warmth of his hand at her waist. She remembered the first time she had danced with him, in the ballroom at Holcomb Manor. She had been giddy, already tumbling head over heels into love with him, and she had never known anything so wonderful in her life. She had been twenty-three, but she had felt like a girl of eighteen at her first ball.
    She tried to thrust the memory out of her mind. It was dangerous to think about it. She knew better now; she could not let herself stumble into that same quagmire. Anna looked up at Reed, and her breath