Almack's provided twelve weekly balls in London. There was a temple of exclusivity for the balls held on Wednesday nights, when subscribers were allowed to bring a guest to the join the normal crowd. Given a "Strangers Ticket," many regulars were interested in expanding their acquaintances for one reason or another. The reason of the Darling's this Wednesday night was to make Wendy's first London Season, announcing her as eligible to the upper crust of England. Not that they would ever inform their whimsical daughter, of course. Once approved by the Lady Patronesses, her social standing was guaranteed to soar.
Fortunate young ladies making their first London Season and who'd been allowed to 'come out' at an Almack's ball had their dancing partners personally chosen by one of the Ladies. And Wendy's had been chosen without her ever knowing it.
The Darling family approached the ballroom partitioned off by crimson ropes. Wendy could hear the orchestra from the line out in the hall. She pulled at the glove at her finger. "I still don't understand why Michael and John couldn't come."
"We'll be out past their bedtime, dear," her mother replied.
"They wouldn't have much fun at these things," Her father nodded.
Her blue eyes looked to them, "And I would?"
"Wendy," her mother sighed, "Isn't it romantic? I thought you loved romance."
"Adventure, mother. Not romance." Not after the boy she'd given a thimble to had left her window empty all these years.
"Life's not a book, you know," Her father looked knowingly over his glasses.
"I know." She knew better than anyone. Sometimes she wondered if she'd imagined her childhood from a book. Tales of pirates and flying boys were too absurd. Still, she couldn't give up believing; not at the risk of a fairy falling dead from the sky… Even a feisty fiend of a fairy.
As she entered the dance hall, she saw everyone performing country dances and Scotch reels in costume. She was proud of her own. She'd make the angel wings herself, out of feathers from an old pillow. All around, a queen danced with a jester, a knight with a butterfly. The alligator imbibing in the punch made her stop and stare. She laughed and shook her head. There was no clock in his mouth. No ticking noise to be heard.
"Wendy," her mother interrupted, "I'd like you to meet the Lady Patroness, Amelia."
Wendy met the eyes of a mischievous blonde. "How do you do?" she asked hesitantly.
"Very well, dear," the older lady answered. "Come, I have your partner waiting."
Wendy looked back to her parents. "Partner?"
"Go on," her mother urged, "have fun."
"But, not too much!" Her father warned.
"…Impossible," Wendy breathed as she followed her guide through the murmuring crowd.
"Poor dear. You had no idea," the blonde turned, "did you?"
"No," Wendy sniffed. "If I had known, I wouldn't have come."
Amelia laughed. "I have a feeling you'll change your tune when you see him. This gentleman has a Stranger's Ticket. He saw you standing outside in line and said he just had to have you. How unique. Not to mention, he's extraordinarily handsome."
What does it matter? Wendy thought. She wasn't in the mood for romance. Hardly anyone had struck her fancy over the years. Young, old, handsome, homely, stout, or lean. She might as well be describing a horse.
"May I introduce, James."
Wendy's head snapped up at the name, eyes wide. Her body tensed at the broad feathered hat. Her eyes traveled down to his ocean eyes and expertly trimmed mustache and goatee. Down a rugged neck where a pressed, ruffled shirt lay surrounded by a luxurious velvet, red coat. The tip of his hand was where her eyes stopped their traveling, at the tip of one very sharp hook.
"Wendy Darling," his smile broadened as he leaned to kiss the back of her hand. "Charmed."
"Hook," her eyes glowed.
"Impressive, isn't it?" He admired his appendage. "I simply had to purchase it to complete the pirate ensemble."
"Where's your ship?" She spoke tersely.
Amelia laughed, "Come now, Wendy. I said he was handsome. Would you prefer he was rich?"
Hook's smile curled. "Why ever not both?"
The lady tittered, "Careful, girl. If you don't take him, I will."
"Amelia, wait!" Wendy reached to her Lady Patroness who gave a wink before disappearing into the crowd. She would certainly be of no help.
Wendy turned to her threat. "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" His brow rose. "Enjoying a dance with my partner." He put a hook out for her hand.
She stood her ground and looked him in the eye.
"Would you prefer this one?" He sent out his good hand, which Wendy examined thoughtfully. Her memories had paid so much attention to the silver that she'd forgotten there was once a human equivalent. One that looked very much like this broad, open palm; honed fingers stretched for her acceptance.
So entranced was she with this concept that her own two fingers tentatively trailed his lifeline as the Countess de Lieven called, "Let's have a waltz!"
"Waltz?" Wendy looked up as the captain took her hand and lead her to the center of the floor. "But, I don't know how to waltz!"
How her worries had shifted. "All you need," he delicately spread her arm as his good hand found her waist, pulling her close and stealing her breath, "is a good leader."
Her eyes looked wide enough to swallow him. Her cheeks as pink as a swamp rose. A thrill ran through him as he thought of how thoroughly he could destroy her.
"Luckily, I've had years of service."
As the music began, his leg found its way between hers, around hers, as if he were moving on air. She, on the other hand, appeared to be the rock that was holding him to the earth. The girls off to the sides were giggling. Her ears burned hotter.
"We can't both be leaders, dear Wendy."
Her brow furrowed indignantly.
His eyes met hers gently. "I could show you how good it could be, how much you would truly enjoy it; if only you yield."
"I will not yield. Not to you."
His eyes traveled over her face. "Weren't you once my Red-Handed Jill?"
"Never. That was a lie."
"Sometimes a pretty, little lie can sooth so much. Anger. Jealousy. What other lies do you tell yourself, Wendy?"
"Enough."
"Ah." He pulled her closer. "There's one now. When will you ever let yourself succumb to the truth?"
"Your truth or mine?"
"Ours."
The room was spinning.
"Our truth that you've never been satisfied with London and never will be. Has the food turned to ash in your mouth, Wendy?"
"Quiet."
"Can nothing quite whet your appetite? Or, shall I say, no one?"
"Enough!"
The music had halted along with the dance, as the silence echoed louder than any horn.
His words were a whisper, "Should you desire another taste…" he slipped a piece of paper into her hand as they parted on the dance floor.
The page crumpled in her tight fist. She cursed herself for being unable to throw it away.