Fascinated

more of you.' He bowed to Ancilla and withdrew.

What?

Ancilla was fanning herself. 'My dear Regina-he is quick off the mark. Complete to a shade. And not too bracket-faced for one of his experience.'

Regina bridled. 'Do you think so? Well, put yourself on the line for his experience, Ancilla, because he will in no way ever see more of me.'

Chapter Six

And that was not the end of it. Ancilla left just as her father came home fresh from his rounds of the clubs, fresh with the news, and a fresh rage over her lack of propriety.

'Everyone is talking about the Book,' he fumed, 'and the worst of it is, all but one of you were booked at Heeton's this past week as well. The wagering is astronomical, but to hear my daughter talked about like a piece of prime flesh is beyond anything a father should have to bear. And it is too late now to dump the broth, my girl. Why could you not be as restrained and proper as Ancilla? There is someone who keeps her counsel, speaks not an ill-advised word to anyone, and is universally loved by everyone.'

'Except a man,' Regina muttered, and immediately hated herself for even voicing such an ill-mannered self- serving comment. 'Then, by all means, I shall certainly try to emulate our saintly Ancilla.'

'You may mock me, but there is something to be said for a woman of taste and restraint, Regina. And you have proved you have neither…'

Oh, if only he knew…

'And that you cannot be trusted to know your own mind.'

That stopped her. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Your thoughtlessness, your cavalier dismissal of my wishes and my concerns-well, I had thought that all the product of a high-spirited, but at bottom, properly raised daughter. And here instead is the bottom line: she is the talk of the Town, named on the line in two of the most notorious betting Books in London, and is pursued right into her home by the most debauched man in England, a man she professed she wanted to marry, and who now apparently may not be averse to marrying her, especially if he can line his pockets in the process. Heaven help me, does everything you wish for come true? And yet you denied the whole straight up and down last night. So what is a father to make of that? I ought to lock you in the cellars at Sherburne until this stink blows over.'

Was there anything more humiliating than this? Her father's anger, his assumption she had been carrying on secretly somehow with Raulton to cause all this furor with the betting Books… what would he do if he knew she was living a secret life as Jeremy's mistress?

He would die. He would just die. He looked about ready to pop right now, and on the cusp of meting out some kind of punishment that would surely involve her banishment from London.

She didn't know how to make him believe that she had never had a moment's interest in Raulton. It was past doing: the betting line said it all.

And her father would believe that, sooner than her.

And it was all her fault to begin with. Blast it.

She was so tired. 'Just don't send me back to Hertfordshire,' she murmured.

'It is exactly where I wish you would go, my girl. You understand all the ramifications of this, do you not? Your name associated with Raulton? Bets being placed on our good name as to whether he will offer for you. Who in conscience after his decision is made would even want to marry you after this debacle? This is your third go-round with no reliable offers. After this Season, you will rusticate until you die, an unwed spinster. There is no other redemption for actions as careless as yours. And perhaps that is the best punishment of all.'

Jeremy came later, and Reginald met him at the door. 'So you've heard the news?' 'The news?' 'The Book.' White's had it then, and Reginald was aware of the whole, damn it. He hadn't been in time to shield him from the worst. 'I just heard.'

'So our little scheme didn't work,' Reginald said snappishly.

'My dear Reginald-we barely had any time. It's been three weeks or so since she declared. A week and a half since we made the decision, and this week did I begin to implement it. Events were out of our control. The card party last night. Everyone was talking about the repartee between them.'

'You should have come,' Reginald said sourly. 'You could have taken her away and prevented this.'

He could have prevented nothing, least of all his own wanton secret life with Regina. 'No. This was booked at Heeton's last week. There was no way to avoid it after that, Reginald.'

'Well, let me tell you-Mr. Jack Smart came to her here in her own home. What do you make of that?'

'The bastard was here? She let him in?' Damn and blast to hell. If he even breathed the same air, he would kill him. He would.

'Ancilla was here; she had no choice in good manners. But still and all-talk to her, Jeremy. I am at wit's end.'

You are not the only one, Reginald.

Reginald stalked out, and Jeremy settled himself in the wing chair to wait for her. He rose restlessly when the thought occurred to him that Raulton might have been in this room, sat in this very chair. Damn damn damn. Why hadn't Ancilla stopped her? But what did Ancilla know? Plenty, probably, knowing Ancilla. Damn and hell.

And where was Regina anyway?

'Ah, and here is my lord to ring another peal over me.' And suddenly she was there, standing defiantly on the threshold gowned in virtue and bile. 'Father wasn't content to beat me to snuff; he had to summon his great good friend to put me further down-pin. Well, go ahead, Jeremy. I'm all to pieces already anyway.'

'He was here.'

That brought her up short. 'He?'

'Raulton-here, in this room…'

'So was Ancilla. It was all perfectly proper.'

'He was in this room. With you. Which chair?'

'Jeremy…'

He wasn't angry. Well, yes, he was. He was furious, fairly simmering under all that impassivity, and she couldn't tell him anything about Raulton's visit that he wanted to hear.

'Where was he seated?'

Time to divert and distract. 'Why does it matter?'

'It matters.'

He was too cool, too collected. She ought to run scared. She ought to just run and hide, and lock herself in the cellars at Sherburne House.

But she was already shackled-to his desire-and his fury was nothing to her hunger for that.

'Ancilla and I were on the sofa; he sat in the wing chair.'

'In the wing chair. In this room. In your home. I see. And what was so urgent that he must fly to your side the moment the betting line at White's is announced? Do you guess?'

'I-' She hadn't thought for a moment about what he inferred. That Raulton's appearance was not just a social call, and that perhaps he wanted to be seen coming and going from their town house in order to increase speculation as to where his interest lay, and thus manipulate the odds.

So much for vanity. But these were the things men always knew and women did not.

'He has all the tricks,' she said finally, 'and all the experience to influence everything to his design. I should never have let him in. There is no excuse, because now Father believes nothing I tell him and is ready to send me to Coventry for my deceits.'

'Not all your deceits,' Jeremy murmured, feeling his anger ebb at this uncharacteristic show of humility. He bore some of the blame as well; he had done next to nothing to carry out the original scheme that Reginald had proposed, which, had he done so, might have prevented this Raulton