A Dance in Moonlight (The Fitzhugh Trilogy) Read Online Free Page B

way, but I never set out to marry a different cavalry officer. When Fitz married his heiress, I was cast adrift. My mother and my sister convinced me to not let life go by, to at least go to London and see what other choices I might have. That London Season led me to Captain Englewood.”
    She smiled a little the memory of meeting her Lawrence for the first time, of the way his eyes had followed her the entire night. “It wasn’t until I’d accepted his suit that my sister asked me whether I was trying to duplicate the life I would have led with Fitz. I broke down and cried myself to sleep. The next day I woke up and vowed to never think of Fitz again for as long as Captain Englewood and I both lived.”
    “Not an easy promise to keep.”
    “No. At the beginning of our marriage, whenever Captain Englewood did something that I didn’t like, I would instantly wonder how different things would have been with Fitz—how I would have never experienced a single moment of annoyance or dissatisfaction. But I’m proud to say I pushed those thoughts away quite diligently and did my best to love Captain Englewood for himself, rather than as a second choice when my first was no longer available.
    “It became easier after a while. He was a good, devoted husband. We had two lovely children. I enjoyed life in the cantonment and made friends with the other officers’ wives. It wasn’t the life I’d planned for, but it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, I was feeling quite fortunate and grateful, when Captain Englewood and I both caught a tropical fever.”
    She stopped for a moment, unable to help the tremor in her voice. Mr. Fitzwilliam gazed at her steadily, as if in encouragement. She took a deep breath and went on.
    “He was the hardiest man alive, never a cold, never a toothache, never even an upset stomach. Soon he seemed to be on the mend, while I took a turn for the worse. In what I thought would be my last moment of clarity, before I descended into delirium, I told him how thankful I was that he came into my life when he did, how much I adored him and our children, and how I wished I could grow old with him and together welcome our grandchildren into the world.”
    Mr. Fitzwilliam sat straighter. She clutched her wineglass with both hands. “I woke up two days later, weak as a newborn, and so confused I barely knew where I was or even who I was. When I did remember, I said a long prayer of thanksgiving—I was alive, I was well, the life that I had painstakingly rebuilt had remained intact. Only to then be told—”
    Tears spilled down her cheeks. He was instantly before her, holding out a snow-white handkerchief. “Thank you,” she murmured, accepting the handkerchief and hastily dabbing her tears away. “I’m sorry.”
    “Be glad you can cry. There are those can only sit dry-eyed with pain burning in their hearts.”
    Was he speaking of himself? She wanted to ask but didn’t know how. “I’m sorry,” she repeated herself. “I have been going on and on about myself. Please understand I am only belatedly trying to appear halfway sane.”
    “I never doubted your sanity—what we do in moments of heartbreak isn’t always rational or explicable,” he answered, his voice as gentle as it was authoritative.
    She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so grateful. Impulsively she reached out and touched his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
    He rested their combined hands against his chest. The lapel of his jacket was warm and soft upon her skin. Then he let go and returned to his seat. “So you grieve for Captain Englewood, you wonder what would happen to yourself, and you remember your old sweetheart. Except he is no longer your sweetheart.”
    “Then you appeared out of nowhere, and I thought my prayers had been heard.” Memories of their kiss tumbled back. The firmness of his hand at the small of her back, the scratch of the beginning of stubbles upon her cheeks, the sounds of enjoyment that he made as she pressed