It is a sad story, my dear Rachael, of misguided interference. Of lies told and believed. Of squandered opportunities and hearts broken. And love unrequited and true love lost...

Lady Rachael Norcross surveyed the crowded ballroom before her and tried to push the passage from her late husband's letter to the back of her mind. It was as futile as trying to stop the beating of her heart. The lines had burned themselves into her memory the moment she'd read them this afternoon in the letter delivered now two years after George's passing.

She moved through the crush with a nod here and a smile there, confident that no one would suspect her thoughts were on anything but Lady Bradbourne's annual New Year's Ball and anywhere but the new year: 1815.

Would he be here tonight? It was entirely possible. She had heard he had returned to England this very week and had steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation. After all, Jason Norcross was her husband's cousin and only male heir. With George's death, Jason was now the Earl of Lyndhurst.

She'd hoped to be able to conclude their dealings, officially ridding herself of the responsibility of the estate and all else that accompanied Jason's legacy, with a businesslike attitude and a minimum of personal contact. With any luck, she could avoid him entirely, leaving everything in the hands of solicitors. That had been her plan since the day of George's passing. A plan shattered along with everything she'd based her life on the moment she read his letter.

A passing waited offered a glass of champagne and she accepted with a feigned air of indifference.

Dear God, Jason had thought she was dead!

The revelation still stunned her. George's letter explained her father's part in the deception. Her hand tightened on the stem of the glass and a wave of bitterness washed through her. Her father. Even on his deathbed he had not sought reconciliation nor forgiveness. No doubt for the best. She didn't know what she would have done if he had. And only now did she know the full extent of his betrayal.

Betrayal? She sipped the wine in an effort to wash the taste of the word from her mouth. As brutal a word as it was it still was not harsh enough. Her father had made certain the man she loved would never so much as write her a note of regret. Or seek her out to explain his abandonment. Or ease her pain.

No, her father made certain all Jason Norcross would leave her with was a broken heart, bittersweet memories and half a gold coin . . .

--From "The Last Love Letter" by Victoria Alexander, one of three stories in Secrets of a Perfect Night
© December 2000 Victoria Alexander used by permission