The last time, there had been only one at the door to take coats. Yet as she moved further into the bar, she saw why they had brought more in. The bar was the busiest Harriet had ever seen...well...anywhere. The dance floor was still there and the couples dancing managed to swing around without colliding with anyone, a skill Harriet was sure she didn’t possess. She was used to open spaces for her dancing. People were standing around chatting on the edge of the dance floor and at the bar, and others were crammed around tables far too small for their parties.
“Is it usually like this on a Tuesday?” Harriet whispered as she followed Charlie through the crowds, her hand in his to avoid getting lost.
“No, but it’s usually like this when they have a performance,” Charlie answered as he led her upstairs. It was only five or six steps, but it was enough to make it easier to see the stage.
“So, they’re all here for Rosalie?”
He grinned at her as they sat down. “Yes and no. They’re not here for Rosalie, specifically, but they are here to see her and the other girls she sings and dances with.”
She turned her attention to the stage, watching as the velvet curtains fluttered while people moved around behind them. She wondered if one of those flutters belonged to Rosalie. Her eyes darted to the bandstand, to the people who played a soft melody in preparation for the oncoming show. She was looking for the familiar face of Jeffrey Williams, and when she found him, her gaze flickered back to Charlie.
He was focused solely on the stage. He didn’t even cast a glance at Jeffrey. She wondered if their conversation last week resulted in this foul mood. That she had brought back the realisation there was no future for them, not with Uncle John becoming stricter with Charlie and his behaviour.
The lights dimmed and she turned to the stage as the band started to play a more upbeat tune and a dozen women poured out onto the stage. They all wore heavily beaded silver dresses covered in fringes that accentuated every single movement. The light reflected off all the jewels and glitter and sent beams dancing all over the club. Everything about their dress was built to add to the show. Even so, the entire outfit was so risqué, with the fringe reaching their knees and the actual dress reaching mid-thigh.
Her papa would have definitely fainted had he seen the dresses.
Harriet scanned the stage, looking for any sign of Rosalie, but found none. She frowned, wondering if something had happened. Her heart dropped to her stomach and she almost leaned towards Charlie to say she would go if Rosalie wasn’t there, when the curtains fluttered a second time. Another woman stepped out into the centre with six girls on either side of her. And where the other women were dressed in silver, this one was drenched in red.
Her short hair was poker straight for a change, instead of the ends curling into her cheeks. She wore no headpiece. None of them did. Harriet was most curious about that until the music started up and the thirteen of them began to move, and she realised why—they all moved so fast, their dancing so upbeat and energetic, that no headband would have stayed in place.
Every single woman on the stage was mesmerising. Their feet seemed to blur as they moved and tapped against the stage, adding their own rhythm to the music. The light hitting their dresses caused rainbows to spark in every direction.
Harriet had never witnessed a dancing act like this before—she knew that they existed, even in Britain, but her people rarely attended such shows.
Now she wished she had.
Her gaze never strayed far from Rosalie, mesmerised by the glimpse of skin she’d see every time she did a spin and the fringe twirled out around her. Nothing in her wildest dreams could have prepared her for when she lifted her leg in the air until her foot was above her head and slid to the floor with her legs forming one long line against the ground.
After several minutes of dancing, Rosalie eventually slowed as the momentum of the music changed. Then she started to sing, and Harriet was lost. She was bowled over by the sweet sounds she made, how utterly heavenly her voice was. It was the perfect balance of raw and soft, husky and velvet. Harriet wanted nothing more than to find a way to get it on a record to forever play on a gramophone.
She couldn’t say how long she sat there, utterly entranced by Rosalie, the way her body moved and how her voice washed over her like a prayer. It could have been a mere thirty minutes or five hours before Harriet was released from the spell as all the girls—Rosalie included—bowed at the rapturous applause that echoed through the club before hurrying back behind the curtain.
Only when the club brightened a little and the band struck up a soft melody did Harriet straighten. She turned to her cousin, ready to apologise for being such a terrible companion, yet when she rounded, she found his seat vacant.
Her heart tightened in her chest as panic seeped into her mind. How long had he been gone? Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t have left without her. Harriet stood from her chair, rocking up onto her tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of her cousin.
She found him rather easily, his golden hair a dead giveaway. He was perched on a stool by the bar, a horde of empty glasses around him. It made Harriet wince.
Gathering her bag, Harriet pushed herself away from the table to go to her cousin...until she heard a familiar voice. Her head whipped around to find Rosalie at the centre of the stage. She was still wearing the same dress, yet a black chiffon skirt had been added to make it look more formal. She had a beautiful sheen to her skin from all the exertion, and it did all sorts of things to Harriet’s mind. Mostly, it brought back all those fantasies of them sharing the same bed—no doubt her skin would take on that same sheen after hours of lovemaking.
“Thank you, thank you all,” she opened as she took hold of the microphone stand. “Now, before we wrap this show up, I want to play you something new that I wrote. It’s a little slower than what we’ve played all night but sometimes, it’s good to slow down.”
Harriet found her gaze darting back to Charlie. She knew she should keep moving and go to him. She had no doubt that it was Jeffrey who was troubling him. She remembered how broken he had looked as he had declared that nothing could happen between them. And maybe it was admitting it aloud that was causing these issues...but she wished he would talk to her. Whatever was eating him alive would continue to do so—the only way to stop it was to talk about it. A problem shared is a problem halved, their Granny used to say.
“So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to my new song, ‘Highland Bloom.’” Rosalie’s voice cut through her thoughts again, and Harriet’s eyes widened as the song’s title sunk in.
She felt her cheeks redden as a voice in her head whispered, That’s about you. She wrote that song about you. After all, how many Scottish people did she know?
However, as soon as the thought entered her mind, Harriet was quick to banish it. Why would she write a song about her? She couldn’t have made that much of an impression on Rosalie last week...could she?
Harriet shook her head, ready to move towards the bar. She was being extreme, making connections that weren’t there.
But then Rosalie started to sing, and Harriet was once again captivated. Her gaze quickly darted to her cousin before they moved back to the stage. He had been stewing all night. Another two minutes wouldn’t hurt.
There was a time I met a girl,
She touched my hand and flipped my world, I swear that she was sent for me,
A distant seed blown across the sea.
She’s as lovely as can be,
Inspiring a soft and sweet symphony,
Was it chance that blew you to my door? Or is there the promise of something more?
And even if it’s not meant to be,
And you return to your home across the sea, I’ll have our memories for when I feel gloom, The memories of you, my Highland bloom.
There were tears in Harriet’s eyes as Rosalie finished singing. The crowd erupted into cheers, yet it didn’t seem to faze Rosalie. She merely gave a gentle incline of her head and then turned, disappearing behind the curtain once more.
(c) Charlotte Anne Hamilton, Entangled Publishing, 2021. Shared with permission from the publisher.
The Great War changed everything for Lady Harriet Cunningham. Instead of being presented at eighteen, she trained to be a nurse and shared forbidden kisses with her colleagues.
But now in 1923, at the age of 24, Harriet is facing spinsterhood.
It's not such a ghastly prospect to her, but as the daughter of the Earl of Creoch, there's a certain expectation that she must meet. So, in a last attempt to find a match for their daughter to see her safe and secure, they send her to her aunt and uncle in New York.
Only when she gets there, she and her cousin, a man who, like her, suffers from the weight of expectation from his father, decide on one last hoorah as a memory to hold close to their heart in their later life.
But when they arrive at the speakeasy hidden beneath a small bookstore, Harriet finds herself entranced by the singer. No matter how hard she wants to please her family and do her duty, she finds that there's something about the woman that she can't stay away from — that she can't ignore her heart. Which is loudly calling for Miss Rosalie Smith.
Romance Historical | Romance LGBTQ [Entangled Embrace, On Sale: October 18, 2021, e-Book, / eISBN: 9781649371706]
Charlotte Anne Hamilton is a blue-haired mermaid-wannabe who lives in Ayrshire, Scotland with her two fur-children, Izzy (chocolate lab) and Smudge (queen cat). She is currently studying Astronomy and Planetary Science and in her spare time, she enjoys reading and gaming, as well as dabbling in all forms of art and her craft as an eclectic witch. Her main source of inspiration in writing and in life is the popular phrase: "but make it gay."
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