Will Forsythe, a veteran of the Peninsular War, retreats to Worcestershire hoping a quiet, solitary life will heal more than his physical wounds. But it's Christmas season, and he finds himself faced with a damsel distressingly in need of help to gather mistletoe for her aunt's Twelfth Night Ball. As an officer and a gentleman, what else can he do?
~ * ~
The sad tale behind the Mistletoe Moment:
A number of years ago, I was on a tour designed specifically for authors of Regency novels. While in Bath, we were part of a Georgian dance evening at the Upper Assembly Rooms. The dancers were there to perform for us, and also to help us through the intricacies of the dance figures of the day. We were all costumed in Regency gowns. Knowing dancing was not one of my skills, I demurred, but when one of the charming, costumed Georgian gentlemen invited me to do the Grand March, how could I resist?
After a romp down the middle of the floor, we did a U-turn around a line chairs. Half-way back to the "top" of the dance, my feet went out from under me, and I in my gorgeous green gown went down splat on the floor. Of course everyone was appalled. My charming partner seated me on a chair, rushed off to get me water. The dancers assured me the floor was the most slippery they had encountered anywhere, etc., etc. But, believe me, I was able to put all my feelings that night into poor Pamela's plight. I was fortunate enough to have kindness shown. Poor Pamela was not. But I knew exactly what sent her flying to Worcestershire, for I sat out the remainder of the night, chatting with Mary Balogh's mother, while wanting to sink into that highly polished floor.
Out of such things are novels born—well, at least a novella. The link to Mistletoe Moment:
Coming soon: A Cape Cod romance from my backlist - Love at Your Own Risk
Grace, who writes as Blair Bancroft