Fascinated

However, it became apparent that this night, among the Skeffinghams' refined company, Mr. Raulton was after only those girls who were very young, and very pristine, the ones who perched with great sangfroid on the sideline chairs and waited like queens for each escort to humble himself and come to her.

And so it must be, Regina decided. A woman must always wait. It was one of those things. If a man wished to renovate his name and reputation, he must act impeccably, and seem at the outset to require the most chaste, the innocent, who would be uncritical, malleable, and utterly inexperienced in the ways of the world; those he would be able to control and manipulate by their affection and their desire to be wed, for what else was there for a girl, or even a woman? And so, they must wait. She must wait. Wait for a man to notice, to speak, to come. But he would come for her, she was certain of it, when he was tired of all those green girls and their insipid conversation, and at a point in the evening when his choices would not be so much remarked upon.

She sat on the sidelines with Ancilla and patiently waited. 'Your Mr. Raulton shows no favorites,' Ancilla commented acidly. 'He goes to every sixteen-year-old equally. How democratic of the man.'

Regina suppressed a smile. Ancilla's observation was not quite true; as Raulton worked his way around the room, Regina had seen his covert looks at others, and the hesitating step he had taken toward her once or twice.

He had been watching her, amused that she, too, played the game of propriety by sitting on the sidelines and waiting, always waiting.

'My lady?' And then his voice startled her, because she had been so deep in thought, and she hadn't been expecting him, not just then.

'My lord?' She looked up at his lean face that only now was showing some of the ravages of his excesses. Pleasant enough, up close, but what really attracted her was the humor in his expression, as if he knew what was said about him and didn't care, as if he were tweaking the mores of the very society into which he sought entree, and she, at least, was in on the joke.

He took her hand, and she made a moment's show of reluctance before she allowed him to lead her to the floor for the reel. It was perfect for her purposes: there would be minimal conversation, and she could gaze at him as if her heart's soul were in her eyes.

One dance, one intricate interlacing of hands and steps and things unsaid. She couldn't have planned it better. She hoped Jeremy and her father were both watching. She hoped they both felt as powerless as she.

And it worked. She couldn't believe how beautifully it worked. When Raulton finally led her back to her chair, she found Ancilla had gone, effectively voicing her distress and disapproval. Her father was waiting for her, grim as a bear, and the best thing of all was when she finally caught her breath and looked around the room, she saw Jeremy by the door, his expression as black as a thundercloud.

So now the stage was set. She had only to sit back and wait for Jeremy to dance attendance on her, and then pay him back for his presumption.

She dressed accordingly the next day, in simple white muslin trimmed at the bodice and hem with demure pleating, and a matching lace-trimmed cap. Virginal. Innocent. What everyone expected to see.

She made herself comfortable in the library until, as she knew he inevitably would, her father wandered in.

'This season is too fatiguing,' he began, dropping into the wing chair opposite the sofa where she sat. 'Last night… too crowded, too many undesirables. I don't know what the

Skeffinghams were thinking. That Raulton-there is a man who ought not be received at the docks let alone in polite society. What is the world coming to?'

'Oh, indeed? He seemed quite the thing to me.'

'Well, he ain't. And you should have known better than to take his hand willy-nilly like that,' Reginald grumbled

'I did no such thing,' Regina said indignantly. 'I just danced with him. A reel, for heaven's sake. We were barely face-to-face throughout the whole. But'-she lowered her voice insinuatingly-'he did cut quite a fine figure. And his manners were impeccable…'

'Re-gina…' Reginald began, but the butler interrupted.

'Mr. Gavage, my lord.'

'Thank God,' Reginald muttered, rising from his chair and relieved as a ninepence that he didn't have to pursue the question of Raulton one moment further. 'Send him in.'

And there he was, framing the doorway, glowering.

'Jeremy, my boy-here's Regina.'

Jeremy cast a dark glance at her. 'So I see.'

Well, Regina thought, that wasn't too promising. She had better reconcile with him right now, or Jeremy would never fall for her plan.

She uncoiled herself from the sofa and went to him, her hands outstretched. 'Jeremy, it's been ages too long.'

'So it seems,' he said in that deep burnished voice of his.

Oh lord, he was tall, taller than he had seemed last night; she didn't remember him being that tall. Or those hands being so warm. Or those eyes so penetrating. Nor had his face been that old. She remembered the youth of that face, before the lines now there had been etched that deep.

He wasn't going to help her either.

'Do sit down. Father, go see to something to eat. Or drink. Would you care for…?' She couldn't even think what this early in the morning.

'Tea and toast will do. I assume you've eaten.'

'I could eat some more,' Regina said staunchly. She wasn't some faint-away female. And anyway, food in hand helped. She didn't know how, she just knew it would. 'I'll take the same. Father!' She had to get him out of the room. 'Do see to it.'

'I'll ring'-Reginald looked from Jeremy to Regina. Lord, she looked so sweet and innocent this morning. And yet she had danced with Raulton the night before and looked at him as it he were a god.

Jeremy eyed him meaningfully, and Reginald changed course. 'Of course, my dear, I'll see to it.' Anything to get out of the room and leave her with Jeremy. He could trust Jeremy. Thank the fates Jeremy had come and none too soon.

Regina closed the door behind him and whirled around to face Jeremy.

'Oh, Jeremy. Did I not see you last night at the Skeffinghams'? Why didn't you come to me? Oh, no matter, you're here now. You cannot know how grateful I am that you came.'

She came toward him and edged him farther into the room. This was the moment; she could not fiddle around with niceties or building the story up any further than what Jeremy had seen with his own eyes. She had to preempt him.

She had to take action now.

'You must help me.' She looked up at him, her eyes wide and beseeching, the very essence of femininity and innocence. She hoped.

'Must I?' Jeremy said repressively. 'Are we not to have a moment's civil conversation before you beg a favor of me? After all this time?'

Odious, odious man! Anyone else would have been at her feet, promising her the moon if she wanted it. 'We could have done so last night,' Regina returned tartly, 'but you chose not to. In any event, I will not ring a peal over your bad manners-today. This is serious. I need your help, Jeremy, and I haven't a moment to lose. You cannot refuse me.'

'Oh no? Appearances are deceiving: here I thought to bask in the company of a childhood friend, and instead I find a spitting hell cat. If I hadn't walked in the door, who might you have dragged off the street to abet you-a sniffing torn?'

Blast it. It was as if she was fifteen again and they were back snipping and sniping at each other. 'Jeremy! Be serious. Sit down.'

'I have a feeling I will want to be standing.' This wasn't going quite the way he had planned either. He waited stoically for the ax to fall.

No choice now. She must dive into it and hope she didn't land half seas over. 'There's a man.'

He hadn't expected that-that she would immediately confess to her interest in Raulton. It undercut