Ballgowns & Butterflies: A Stitch in Time Holiday Novella by Kelley Armstrong

Author:Kelley Armstrong [Armstrong, Kelley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781989046364
Publisher: K.L.A. Fricke Inc
Published: 2021-07-24T14:00:00+00:00

10

It is the ball of my dreams. Beyond my dreams. My youthful fantasy had been all about the gowns and the dancing. I have the first, and I get the second, with both William and August escorting me around the dance floor until my feet hurt. But it’s more than that. It’s the people for one thing. I meet some I know from history and some I’ve never heard of, but if August introduces us, it’s because he finds them interesting. I expected to be in a corner with William, and instead I have incredible conversations with bright, witty and fascinating people.

There is also the food. One can never discount the food. Raw oysters are all the rage, and they’re here in six varieties. There’s sweetbread pâté, which I’m sure is delicious, but I’ve never been a fan of organ meats. Tiny quail with delicate truffles. Deliciously fried rice croquettes. And fruit, every variety of fruit available in this era, showing off the estate’s wealth. Imported oranges and pineapples. Greenhouse strawberries and grapes. Platters of exquisite little cakes and one entire tray devoted to Nesselrode pudding—chestnuts and fruits and liquor in a cream gelatin base. Knowing I can’t judge the alcohol content—and the Victorians poured with a liberal hand—I take only a nibble or two from William’s bowl of pudding. I also eschew all punches except the one August assures me is alcohol free, a sad little pitcher at the end of a table groaning with bowls of jewel-toned beverages.

The pièce de résistance, though, is the ice cream. Which is . . . Am I being a complete twenty-first-century snob to say I get a laugh at the ice cream? Row upon row of tiny silver dishes with a tiny half-melted scoop in each.

Had it been summer, it’d have been difficult to produce ice cream for this many guests, and the treat would have been reserved for dinner parties. The Courtenays have an ice house—insulated and sheltered and well packed with ice in the winter. While freezing isn’t a problem at this time of year, the sheer effort of churning ice cream in these quantities is a feat, and I pity the staff.

William also makes good on his promise: the one about sneaking off to an unused room, hiking up my skirts and getting down on bended knee. Yep, that’s an entirely different sort of historical romance scene, but I’ve certainly read and enjoyed those, too, and I enjoy this enactment even more.

Whatever fears I had about being here, whatever trepidation, it evaporates after we leave the earl and his snarky insults. I’m sure others make some, but I don’t hear them. I thoroughly enjoy my evening.

At one point, as the ball begins to break up, William is snared by a man I don’t recognize, who wants to talk business. I excuse myself, and I’m heading to fetch another glass of punch when a familiar calico tail swishes from under the tablecloth.

Surrey.

I glance around. Thankfully, no one else has seen her.

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