"No one should miss a moment at Almack's if they have the entree," Regina murmured. "I was remiss not to have considered my good fortune this afternoon." The irony was lost on her father, who believed every social event was a command to attend.
He was just as happy to have her company, particularly during the long wait to debark from their carriage at the door, and then again inside during that first awkward moment of greeting friends and acquaintances.
Everyone was there. The crowd was six deep by the velvet cordon. Regina could barely pass, and she felt a distinct irritation that she wouldn't be able to see, or to carry forward her plan. And she was hoping Ancilla had chosen not to attend be-cause she did not need a Greek chorus naysaying her every move.
But that was a faint hope, blast it. There Ancilla came, in her usual turnout of white muslin, long white gloves, and, a new fashion trick, a matching demiturban in her hair confining her pale curls.
"Always a crush," Ancilla murmured. "How are you?"
"I'm well to do given we saw each other only yesterday," Regina answered in kind. "And you?"
"As ever. Marking time. Observing the absurd behavior of those around me. No, no, not you. But take note that your Mr. Raulton is here already and in fine fettle. I daresay he has his dance card down and is busily deciding which of the Untouched he will touch tonight. I do wish you would give over your fascination with him. He is not worthy of your consideration."
"He is still the most interesting man here."
"And what about Jeremy Gavage? There he is, scowling as ever."
"Does he look our way?" She hoped.
"He scowls our way."
"I ought to greet him, even if he had the bad manners not to come to me last night. Do you wish to come with me?"
"No. There is nothing for me there. But do you go acknowledge him."
Perfect. Now it remained only to find Mr. Raulton. Tonight she did not want to dance with him. She wanted, rather, to be seen talking with him, or perhaps pretending to follow him to the garden for a private moment.
Which meant he must always be in her sights, and she must try to be sure that Jeremy was watching. Although how she would manage that, she did not know.
Blast it. Why couldn't a woman control these things?
"Well, don't you look-different tonight?" Jeremy was behind her, where she least expected him to be.
She curtsied. "Do you like it?"
"I think your father should not have let you out of the house wearing such a dress," Jeremy said feelingly. He didn't know quite what it was: the low-cut bodice that molded her breasts, or the way the dress shimmered against her body with her every movement.
Or the look in her eye. He didn't like that the most.
"Is your mistress here?" she asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.
"Dear God…!" Jeremy exploded under his breath. He grabbed her arm and pushed her to a corner where they could have more privacy. "And just what is your interest in my mistress?"
Her chin went up. "I'm fascinated. Especially since you brought it up. And they know so much about love and men. I've been thinking that I would be one."
"WHAT?"
His anger was something to behold. This was a good tactic, an excellent ploy. "I… would… be… one," she repeated succinctly.
"God in heaven… what is this new thing?"
"I want you to teach me."
"I'm teaching you." God help him, he hoped no one was listening. What was he doing arguing such a thing with her here in public where every comma was food for gossip by morning. "And I won't talk about this nonsensical idea of yours here. You don't know what you're saying. You don't know what you want. First it's Raulton, then it's this…"
"Well, I reconsidered that. I think it would be much more interesting to be his mistress than his wife. He'd be generous and kind… and he's so experienced. A woman really must prefer a man with experience… and so, by the same token, ought not a man? Prefer a woman with experience, I mean."
Jeremy blanched. "I'm getting you out of here. You have lost your mind or you have a fever. Stay here until I inform Reginald…"
She felt a bubble of triumph well up. She had totally confounded him, and the more agitated he got, the more enamored she became with the idea of him teaching her the erotic arts of a mistress.
Now, if she could only find a way to have that moment with Raulton, it would just set the cake.
She couldn't believe that it turned out to be a simple matter of following him discreetly and seizing the moment. She slipped into the crowd and edged her way around the room, nodding to acquaintances, and feeling a spurt of resentment when she was detained to listen to a morsel of gossip or a tidbit of news. It was a chore just keeping track of Raulton, with all the distractions around him.
Ah, there he was, presenting another of his limp young things with some lemonade. Nasty stuff, but the girl didn't know it. She looked awestruck; this was probably her first go-round at Almack's.
And Raulton had had obviously enough of her, too. He excused himself quickly thereafter, heaving a thankful sigh as he withdrew and headed for the refreshment room.
She scanned the crowd for Jeremy, caught his eye as he searched for her and, quick as a cat, went after Raulton.
Nothing could be better. She could make up any story about her supposed assignation with Raulton. But Jeremy's speculations would be a lot more pungent. Well, so it should be, blast him. He deserved to suffer.
He wasn't that far behind her, and he didn't scruple to grab her and haul her back from whatever folly she was about to commit. "Damn it. Damn you. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Raulton suddenly appeared as if by magic, a glass of ratafia in hand, and Regina almost fainted at the sight of him. Now what? She was cooked; her deceit was about to be exposed.
But she should have known: Raulton of all people was not behindhand about anything to do with subterfuge. He took in the scene with one lightning look, and then he held
Regina's eyes meaningfully, handed her the drink, and murmured, "There, my dear Regina. A reward for your forebear-ance. I trust you will be all right?"
He was saying, I'// play. You play. It was so perfect. She bent her body toward him. "Quite, Marcus."
"I wish there were more time." He took her hand, he kissed her palm. Her breath caught as his tongue swiped her palm. "There's never enough time."
"Marcus…" Who was a better actress than she? "Can't we…?"
"This is the only way," he murmured, and then he was gone.
"Jesus," Jeremy muttered. "You are a menace." He took her arm, as she stared after Raulton, barely able to contain her glee at the scene he had just wittingly played out with her. "Tell me you didn't breathe whisper of that bird-brained scheme of yours to him."
"What scheme is that, Jeremy dear?"
"To become his mistress."
She looked horrified. "Never yet, Jeremy. I'm not nearly skilled enough. But you're going to remedy that, aren't you- and soon."
There was that word again: remedy. As though he were castor oil or something. "I'm taking you home."
"There's nowhere I'd rather go with you."
And that tone-he did not like that tone of voice. It was too reasonable. Too rational. So he kept silent during the ride back to Green Street and said not a word as they entered the house.
Here was the moment he ought to leave. He knew it. He felt trouble brewing in his bones if he took one step farther into that house with her.
"Would you like a brandy?" Regina asked.
"I would like an explanation."
"Well, it's all your fault. You're the one who started gabbling about mistresses and how you hate to coddle and coax reluctant virgins. And frankly, any woman who thought about it would much rather know about those things than not."
"Get in the library. We're not going to discuss this where your servants can overhear."