Diane T. Ashley Read Free Page A

hand for this dance. Never mind that he was not as tall or broad shouldered as David. He was a very nice man, and she was looking forward to their dance.
    “I believe our quadrille is beginning.” Although William held out his right hand in invitation, his uncertain brown gaze darted from her face to David’s.
    “Of course.” Jasmine put her hand on his arm and allowed herself to be swept onto the dance floor as the music began.
    “You are looking exceptionally lovely this evening, Miss Anderson.” William’s smile was much more flattering and genuine than David’s had been. It soothed her ruffled nerves.
    Jasmine curtsied to him before turning to the gentleman on her right and curtsying again as the dance required. “Thank you, Mr. Smalley.”
    The orchestra’s music could not quite drown out the conversations in the crowded ballroom, but at least out here they had room to breathe. Waiting for their turn to cross the square, she pulled at the cuff of her elbow-length glove. What was wrong with her? She should not be so nervous. It wasn’t like this was her first ball. Since the end of the war she had attended dozens of similar affairs with her sister Camellia. At the age of twenty some would consider her an old maid, but Jasmine was determined to take her time before selecting a husband. Or she might decide to remain single. No law demanded that she marry, after all.
    Tapping her foot in rhythm to the music, Jasmine swept out onto the floor with all the enthusiasm she could muster. As she and her partner neared the far end of their square, she held out her left hand for him to grasp. His right hand rested lightly on her waist as they executed the turn. In perfect coordination, they crossed the center once more to return to their original position. Then it was time to promenade.
    Mr. Smalley was an excellent partner. Jasmine was beginning to enjoy herself in earnest, her gaze sweeping the room for sight of either of her older sisters. Both Lily and Camellia were dancing in another square, their husbands at their sides.
    The turn of a man’s blond head drew her attention. David! He was leaning toward another female and smiling. His eyes crinkled in the way she remembered. The way they should have crinkled when he was smiling at her.
    Betrayal swept through her like a spring flood. Jasmine missed her next step and stumbled. If not for Mr. Smalley’s tightened grip on her waist, she might have actually fallen to the floor like a graceless child.
    “Are you all right, Miss Anderson?” His whispered question brushed past her ear.
    She answered him with a nod. “Thanks to your quick thinking, sir.”
    “It’s kind of you to say so.” His face beamed, and his chest expanded with pride and satisfaction.
    “I apologize. I must have been distracted. I promise I’m not usually so clumsy.”
    His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. “You’re never clumsy, Miss Anderson. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
    They reached the point in their square where they had begun, and Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief. Concentrating on the other dancers, she refused to let her mind wander to what she’d seen David Foster doing. It was none of her business anyway. Let him flirt with whatever girl he wished. He’d made it quite clear when he moved to Chicago what their friendship meant to him—nothing. He may have hinted at returning for her, but he’d never done so. And her heart had mended.
    The quadrille came to its conclusion without further mishaps, and Mr. Smalley escorted her from the dance floor. Jasmine was quickly inundated with other young men who wished to dance with her. Laughing with all the skill she could muster, Jasmine allowed one or two to pen their names to the empty spines on her fan. No green-eyed traitor was going to ruin her night.
    By the time the orchestra took its first break, her feet ached and her lips felt cracked from all the smiling she’d done. She spied a pair of empty chairs next to a large vase