She and Maddie stepped and spun in perfect unison through the familiar figures of the dance—every arch of Sophie’s arm, every lift of her foot seemed to tug invisibly at Maddie’s heartstrings. She barely felt the floorboards beneath her shoes: at the end of the row she half expected to turn and find they’d danced away from the earth and into a field of stars.
But perhaps that was just that her heart felt so light and buoyant. In a week’s time she was going out into the wide, wide world with a woman she loved more than she’d ever loved anyone. There might well be more villains lying in wait—but Maddie had faced down villains before. She was the furthest thing from afraid, because she knew she wasn’t alone.
Sophie’s eyes sparkled, and she hummed a harmony that only Maddie was close enough to hear.
Maddie curtsied at the dance’s end, skirts billowing around her. The dress was one she’d altered specifically for Westminster, so she might carry her past with her into the future. White silk with gold rosettes—the embellishments made of her mother’s weaving, which Gita Narayan had saved from the copycat Pomona green gowns. One rested like a talisman just over her heart; the ones on the hem of the gown floated between ribbons of deep blue nightingales, cut from souvenir programs of the Roseingrave concert. Every time she looked at them, her heart took flight.
What couldn’t she and Sophie do, so long as they did it together?
She took her beloved by the hand, and waited for the next song to begin.
Acknowledgments
It’s traditional to stack acknowledgments in ascending order of importance, but everything else about the past year has been topsy-turvy so why not get right down to the heart of the matter: neither this book nor its author would be in any kind of shape if it weren’t for the incredible love and flat-out heroism of my husband, Charles. This year was our ten-year wedding anniversary, and the fifth year since I came out as bisexual: we’d planned on Paris, and instead we found ourselves spending a year indoors in an apartment like a sealess ship. We’ve both lost loved ones, we’ve struggled to feel connected to absent friends, and we’ve been sick and tired of absolutely everything—except each other.
It is a gift to have you in my life, my love, and I thank you with everything I have.
My editor, Tessa Woodward, always sees where I’m trying to go with a book, and offers me a road map to making the journey more directly. Courtney Miller-Callihan, agent extraordinaire, has a sure and steady hand on the tiller when I am feeling most tempest-tossed.
Katherine Locke read an early version of this story and provided feedback of the most sensitive and invaluable kind; any pain or awkwardness still in these pages is mine and mine alone. Rose Lerner’s incredible brilliance (and high standards for heist stories!) made this book so much sleeker and sharper: I am perpetually delighted by her friendship.
Lastly, I want to send my love to everyone who is feeling haunted by this past year and its ghosts. We’re all missing someone, whether it’s for now or forever. It feels important to remember that we’re not alone in feeling alone. I hope the reading of this book may bring you a little of the solace that the writing brought me—this was my escape and my refuge, and its door is now open to you.
The Feminine Pursuits Series
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About the Author
OLIVIA WAITE writes historical romance, fantasy, and science fiction. She is currently the romance fiction columnist for The New York Times Book Review, where she writes reviews and thoughtful essays on the genre’s history and future. To learn more and sign up for her newsletter, please visit oliviawaite.com.
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Also by Olivia Waite
The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics
The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
the hellion’s waltz. Copyright © 2021 by Olivia Waite. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition JUNE 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-293181-8
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-293183-2
Cover design by Amy Halperin
Cover illustration by Christine Ruhnke
Cover images © Jenn LeBlanc (women); © rusty426/Shutterstock (background); © popcorner/Shutterstock (face)
Avon Impulse and the Avon Impulse logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America.
Avon and HarperCollins are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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