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‘I am,’ he replied with a soft chuckle. ‘My mother insisted I learn from a young age.’
‘She’s a good woman – taught you well.’
‘Was a good woman, yes.’
‘My mothers are dead too.’
‘Mothers?’
She smiled, finding it easy to do as she looked into his interested expression. ‘Long story. For now, I appreciate you rescuing me.’
‘Did I?’
She nodded. ‘You can’t know just how much I needed it.’
‘I think I can. I noticed from this side of the ballroom that you really didn’t want to be where you were.’
Fleur shook her head. ‘It’s not the dance itself, it’s him.’
‘And I can understand why,’ he remarked.
She liked that he wasn’t asking any hard questions, wasn’t acting curious; he was simply following the conversation where she allowed it to roam. ‘I’m Fleur.’
‘Fleur,’ he repeated. ‘I love that name.’
‘Oh, come on. Don’t disappoint me.’
He caught on. ‘I’m not flirting. It’s an unusual name.’
‘True. I’ve never met anyone who shared it.’
He smiled. ‘I have. I met a girl once, when I was just a boy. Her name was Fleur and . . .’
She watched his gaze turn wistful as he trailed off, trying to find the right words.
‘I felt like she saved me in a moment of tremendous grief. I was lost and I know this sounds fanciful but, just as you felt a moment ago, I think she rescued me. She showed me a kindness and interest that made me feel like I could face . . .’ He trailed off again. ‘Sorry, we hardly know each other, you don’t want—’
‘No, I do.’ She gave him a gentle smile of encouragement. ‘What did she help you to face?’
He shrugged. ‘A terrible time. I’m a country boy. I was ten. My mother and newborn sister had just died, I was suddenly alone in the city to accompany their bodies to where her family wanted and I was . . . well, I was lost,’ he said again, finding a smile despite the memory. ‘And this young girl called Fleur arrived at the house where they had my mother and sister in a coffin. This little girl, full of confidence, took charge, not letting anyone bully me. Her whole name was pretty – I’ve never forgotten it. I think I fell in love with her then and there, but she was only eight. Fleur Appleby is one of my fondest memories. You’re every bit as pretty as she was.’ He shook his head. ‘You know, as odd as this sounds, you even look like her.’
He grinned at this fanciful notion, while she blinked with private astonishment as the music ended and all the dancers stopped to clap and smile at each other.
He looked a little bashful. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say so much. I never say that much. I didn’t mean to embarrass you either, but after how that bloke was treating you, I reckon you could do with a compliment.’ He shrugged again. ‘Can’t escape the fact that you are pretty, and brave to stand up to those jokers.’ Now he looked awkward, as if he was blushing, but she couldn’t tell under the lights. The music struck up a fast dance and people streamed onto the floor.
As they both turned to watch, Fleur replied. ‘You were the brave one. I just stood there.’
‘No, you defied him. I think you surprised everyone.’
‘Including myself,’ she said, watching the women on the ballroom boards looking adoringly at their partners. She could never, not in a lifetime, look at Jimmy Coglin like that . . . even if he did claim to have twinkle toes and all the right dance moves.
‘I doubt it, Fleur. I think you’d have found a way to leave him even if I hadn’t happened along.’ Her new companion cut her a glance. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Not really. I’d prefer to go. Sorry . . . what I mean is, I’d rather just leave the dance.’
He watched her carefully. ‘All right. Have you got everything? I’d be happy to take you home if you wish.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you. How about we walk? It will take an hour but it’s a lovely evening out there.’
