Trust Your Heart - A Story of the St. John Family

Here is the prologue from my novella, Trust Your Heart.  This one is a historical romance.  Later on this year, I will be posting some exciting news about this novella as well as my Regency novel, Touch the Sky.

Enjoy!

Prologue

Christmas Eve – St. Louis – 1859

“May I have this dance, Miss St. John?”  The young Army officer bowed from the waist, his blue eyes sparkling, his uniform immaculate, and his smile wide.  The sound of his deep baritone echoed pleasantly in her torso and made her breath catch.

Amelia noticed him earlier when he entered the ballroom.  Tall and well muscled, he was hard to miss.  Her brother-in-law introduced them.  She watched Lt. Joshua Hawthorne as he moved through the crowd for more introductions.  She could not take her gaze off him.

“Of course you may,” said Ellen, nudging her sister toward him.

Amelia shot a glance at her older sibling, before flashing her best smile at the lieutenant.  “I would be happy to dance with you, Lt. Hawthorne.”

In the glow of candlelight, he led her onto the dance floor.  Though his hands were properly gloved, she could feel the heat at her waist where he held her.  Focused on the sensation of his hand she stumbled briefly when he took the first step.  Amelia recovered quickly and they joined the other couples swaying around the floor to the lovely waltz. 

As they whirled in the steps of the graceful dance, other people existed only in the background. 

The music, the sparkling crystal chandeliers, the gentle murmur of the guests, the passing colors, and the scents of evergreens added to the pleasurable experience.  Yet Amelia saw only the handsome face above her. 

When their first dance ended, he stayed by her side.  “I did not expect to find such pleasant company in St. Louis,” he said as he strolled with her to the refreshment table.  “Would you care for some wine?”

“Yes, thank you.”  She allowed him to lead her. “Where are you from?” she asked.

He handed her a cup of the cinnamon dusted mulled wine.  “I am originally from New York.  This is my first trip to St. Louis.”

“I hope it won’t be your last trip to St. Louis,” she said.

“So do I.”  He leaned down to her.  “Will you be going to the Mayor’s New Year’s Eve Ball?”

“I’m afraid not.  The day after tomorrow I leave to return to New Orleans.”

The orchestra struck up a lively number.

Joshua offered his arm to Amelia.  They moved to the floor once again and danced a schottische.  After that, they danced another waltz, a polka, and a reel.

Between dances they drank more wine and chatted with each other.  Amelia wondered if some of the matrons would consider her behavior inappropriate dancing with only one man.  She did not care if they did.  The strong attraction she felt for the handsome lieutenant could not be ignored.

He held her hand. “May I compliment you on the lovely ring you wear?  I have never seen another quite like it.”

She held out her hand to better see the ruby ring.  Set in gold, glittering diamonds surrounded the large oval cut center stone. 

“The ring is an heirloom from my late grandmother.  When I wear it, I am reminded of her.”  She smiled up at him.  “I must confess I wear it everyday.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her to the picture window.  They faced the street, alone in the overcrowded room, looking out the window at the falling snow.  “Must you go back to New Orleans so soon?” he asked, softly.

“I’m afraid so.  I have to return to Madame Dumond’s Seminary for Young Ladies for my final term.  My parents wanted me to complete my education.”

“Aren’t you worried about the state of politics, all this talk of war? It might be dangerous for you to be in the South.”

She smiled up at him.  “I’ll leave the subject of war to you men.  We ladies have no business worrying about such matters.”

“If things were different, I would take the time to court you properly.”  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.  The touch of his lips gentle and warm on her skin beneath the lace mitts she wore, he lingered over the task. “May I have an address at which to send you letters?”

Amelia sighed at the sensation of his lips on her skin.  How fortunate I wore the lace mitts instead of my gloves.  She looked at their reflection in the window glass.  He was tall and dark, dashing in his uniform.  They looked good together, an attractive couple. I wonder if this is what love feels like?  Belatedly she realized he had asked a question. “Yes, I would like to correspond with you.” She did not recognize her own voice.

Joshua held her gaze and turned her hand over to kiss her palm. 

Her knees buckled at the sensation.  Sighing, she could look nowhere but at him.  I’ve never felt anything like this.  It must be love.

“Promise me,” he whispered, “to answer the letters I will send you.  I don’t want to lose touch with you.”

“Of course I shall answer your letters.”  Her voice breathless, she could barely talk.  “We won’t lose touch.  Why would we?  I will complete the term in June and then I’ll be back in St. Louis.  After all, it is just a steamboat journey from New Orleans to St. Louis.”

The guests began to leave.  Amelia saw her sister bidding her guests farewell at the front door beyond the ballroom.

Joshua noted the activity.  “I suppose I must be a courteous guest and depart. I had a wonderful time this evening.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, so did I.”  Please don’t leave just yet. Amelia hurried to the escritoire in the hallway, for paper, a pen, and ink.  She hastily wrote her New Orleans address.

Joshua got his greatcoat and hat from the housemaid. 

I’ve got to say something else so he won’t leave yet.  “Merry Christmas,” she said, as she handed him her address.

“Merry Christmas to you, Miss St. John.”  He put on the greatcoat with a flourish as he smiled down to her.

He’s so handsome, the very picture of perfection, so strong and confident. I could stare at him forever.

His expression became serious.  “Promise me you will be very careful in the coming months.”

Amelia tossed her head as she had seen her best friend, Jo Beth Wilcox do. “I shall be perfectly fine.  After all, what could happen to someone like me?”