Free Blue Waltz by Linda Francis Lee Page B

having so disappointed his father. But now that he thought back on it, he did remember his mother and her smile, and the special gift of cocoa with extra whipped cream.
    Adam had always been closer to their mother. Stephen shouldn't be surprised that she would tell him such a story. A pang of regret washed over him. His memories of his father were vivid, but his memories of his mother were virtually nonexistent. His father had been a dominant force in his life; his mother only floating in the background. Perhaps Adam was correct.
    "I guess I do remember," Stephen said finally.
    "Do you remember the plays we used to put on?"
    Stephen groaned. "How could I forget?" Though in truth, until that moment, he had forgotten.
    "The laughter and the fun," Adam said.
    "Before Mother and Father died."
    Adam sighed. "That seems to be how time is divided for us. Before they died, and after."
    They didn't look at each other, but stood side by side, looking out through the mullioned window, looking out across the street and into the park, their large, strong hands in their pockets, except for the one that hung in a pristine black sling. But standing there as they were, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, someone might have noticed the resemblances between the two men. The different skin tones and hair colors wouldn't stand out so much as to override any recognition of the similarities. The same height. The same chiseled cheekbones and jaws. Necks strong. Shoulders broad. So many similarities in men who had grown to be so different.
    Blue Waltz71
    "So, what do you think about the Abbot's party?" Stephen asked finally.
    Adam's broad shoulders rounded for a moment, before he shrugged and gave his brother a rueful smile. "I guess I could make the time to go."
    "Good," Stephen said simply with a brisk nod of his head, wanting to say so much more but having no idea where to begin, or how.
    But before Stephen could utter another word, the mantel clock chimed the noon hour, disrupting the quiet.
    "I'm beat," Adam said, turning away from the window. "I think it's time I got some sleep." He laughed, his characteristic good cheer restored. "I'll need all the rest I can get if I have to spend the evening with Louisa Abbot and her friends."
    Stephen didn't respond. He merely smiled and watched his brother go. Suddenly the thought of spending the evening with the likes of Louisa Abbot appealed to him as much as it apparently appealed to Adam. Not at all. Stephen nearly laughed. How strange to agree with his brother. But he realized it wasn't so much that he agreed with Adam as it was that he found himself thinking once again about the woman. About Bluebell Holly.
    Where was she? he wondered. What had happened to her? And strangely . . . would he ever see her again?
    CHAPTER 7
    The dress was stunning, Belle decided. Perfect for a party —the Abbots' dinner party, specifically, which she had decided in a weak moment to attend.
    She tried to twirl around in front of the framed cheval glass that stood in the corner of her sitting room, but contented herself with simply swaying gently from side to side.
    The dress was made from a rich lavender satin, with long puffed sleeves, a fitted, short-waisted bodice, and a full, petticoat-padded skirt. Over the dress she wore a shimmery gold girdle with designs made from light and dark lavender strands woven into the cloth, which fell gracefully about the skirt, and was caught up on either side by catches of solid gold.
    Belle hardly recognized herself. It seemed impossible that the woman in the mirror was the same person she knew herself to be. She reached out and touched her reflection. Like a whisper, she ran the backs of her fingers down the glass from her cheek to her neck. She was going to a party, in a dress that was stunning, just as she had always known it would.
    Leaning forward she pressed her cheek to the mirror, her breath frosting the silvered glass. When he finally arrived, her father would be so pleased,