“It could hardly be more properly done, sir,” Hugh assured him, “and I cannot thank you enough for welcoming me in and allowing me to experience it. I have not enjoyed a Christmas such as this in many, many years, and never quite like this.”

Mr. Asheley turned and grasped him by the upper arms. “Not at all, my boy, not at all. You are most welcome, and it has been a pleasure to have you with us, to be sure. Always welcome at Christmas, and any time after this.” He patted Hugh’s arms and moved off to greet some arriving neighbors, all of whom appeared delighted to be there.

Hugh couldn’t blame them. He was rather delighted himself.

He stayed off to one side of the room, watching as others entered and as some of the dancing began, though in small numbers.

Some of the cousins had trickled in and greeted him, and he remained tucked away, mostly to avoid Letitia, who was wild enough to try for any of the men, and had done.

As far as he knew, none of them felt likewise.

Then, in grand procession, came Mr. Asheley with his wife on his arm, and his children behind him. Mr. and Mrs. Partlowe followed first, then Edmund, Elinor, Elizabeth, and Ellen, the ladies all wearing some festive shade of red and bearing holly leaves in their hair.

Hugh could only stare at Elinor, her red and gold brocade perfectly embodying Christmas, the holly and gold ribbon wrapped around her exquisite golden hair seeming very much like a gift in itself. She glowed with her natural beauty, her cheeks tinged with a joyful blush that was only broken by her smile.

He had never seen anything so glorious, and it became difficult to swallow.

He didn’t trust himself to go to her right away, preferring to let the ball officially open and the dancing commence as it would. She danced with her brother, with Dough, with two cousin husbands, and with some young man that made her smile far too much for his liking. He’d been mildly chastised by John Winthrop for scowling in a corner instead of actually enjoying the evening.

Winthrop had a valid point there, and Hugh could not deny it.

Would not.

The strains of a waltz began, and Hugh found his feet moving before he meant to, driving him towards the only woman he cared to dance with this evening.

She turned to him as he approached, and he prayed the light in her eyes when she saw him was not imagined.

He hoped it was not.

He bowed to her, then held out his hand. “Will you dance with me, Miss Asheley?”

Her hand was placed in his without hesitation, her fingers curving around his hand. “Yes, Mr. Sterling,” she replied, smiling in a way that made him wish he could kiss her in this now crowded ballroom.