The ballroom, already stifling, seemed to close in around her. The glitter of chandeliers dazzled her aching eyes; the mingled perfumes of roses, ambergris, and too much powder turned her stomach. She pressed a hand to her temple and pushed her way through the crowd once more, determined to speak with Jane before her strength deserted her.
Her friend stood with a small gathering of admirers, men Regina herself had danced with earlier, laughing far too freely at some witticism. Regina’s heart sank. Was this truly love Jane felt for Worthington? Or merely the giddy infatuation of a girl who enjoyed being adored?
“Pardon my intrusion,” Regina said, slipping into the circle with as much courtesy as she could muster. “Might I have a private word with Miss Meyers?”
The men bowed and excused themselves, though not without disappointed glances at Jane. Once they had gone, Jane’s smile vanished. She turned a scowl upon Regina. “What is it now?”
Regina grasped her friend’s hands, holding them tightly as though sheer force might convey her desperation. “I’m not well, Jane. I must leave the ball. But will you promise me something before I go?”
To Regina’s dismay, Jane’s expression lightened, as though her illness amused her. “I’m sorry you feel poorly, Reggie,” she said, her tone far too bright. “But I make no promises.”
The use of that detested nickname nearly unraveled Regina’s temper, but she forced herself to remain calm. “All I ask is this: do not let your father announce the engagement tonight.”
Jane gave an exaggerated sigh and folded her arms. “That will not be necessary. Mr. Worthington has been detained. He is not even certain he can attend this evening.”
Relief washed through Regina so suddenly that her knees weakened beneath her. She nearly sagged against Jane but managed to keep upright, clinging to her last ounce of dignity.
“Thank heaven,” she whispered. “Please, then, take these few days to think clearly about what you are doing—before it is too late.”
“Fine,” Jane said shortly, though she darted her eyes elsewhere, already losing interest.
Wearily, Regina released her and turned toward her mother, who sat in a cluster of ladies nearby. Her mother’s sharp gaze caught hers, widening in alarm as she rose at once.
“Regina, my dear, are you ill?”
“Yes, Mother,” Regina admitted, clutching her mother’s arm to steady herself. “But do not fret. I shall sit in the coach until I am better. You need not leave your friends just yet.”
Her mother cupped her cheek with gentle fingers. “If you are not returned in an hour, I shall follow. Your father will understand.”
Regina managed a faint smile, kissed her mother’s cheek, and forced her heavy legs toward the entrance. Each step felt an effort. Her head pounded, her stomach churned, and a strange weakness unsettled her limbs. Surely this was nothing more than nerves over too much worry about Jane. Yet she had never felt this ill in her life.
Fetching her cloak from the footman, she stepped into the cool night. The sudden darkness was a relief after the glare of chandeliers, though the lanterns fixed to carriages gave the drive a ghostly glow. The damp night air chilled her, but she welcomed it, drawing it into her lungs in deep, desperate breaths.
The line of coaches stretched along the gravel sweep, shadows shifting as horses stamped and tossed their heads. Regina’s dizziness worsened, and she pressed a hand against the stone wall to steady herself as she searched for her family’s vehicle. The world seemed to tilt with every step.
At last, she spied the familiar crest painted on the side of her father’s coach. Relief nearly unmoored her. The driver was not in sight, but no matter, she was capable of climbing in unaided. Tonight, however, she dreaded the effort. Each movement required willpower she barely possessed.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the door handle.What is wrong with me?she wondered in a fog of pain and confusion. Surely it was only the strain of the evening, the burden of trying to save Jane from herself.
Still, a chill of unease slid down her spine as she prayed the malady would soon pass. Too much depended upon her. And she would not surrender before her task was done.
Regina gripped the handle with both hands, the metal biting cold against her palm. With effort, she hauled the heavy dooropen and mounted the step, her knees trembling as if she had run a race. Once inside, she collapsed onto the cushioned seat, her cloak falling in a heap about her. The familiar leather scent of the coach surrounded her, comforting in its way, but it did little to ease the nausea roiling her stomach.
She drew the curtains closed, shutting out the flickering lanterns beyond, and leaned her head against the padded wall. Her temples throbbed, every heartbeat a hammer blow. For a moment, she closed her eyes, willing the spinning to cease.
The muffled sounds of the ball drifted even here. The distant strains of a waltz and bursts of laughter carried through the night air. The voices seemed far away, as though she were already removed from that glittering world, stranded in some quiet, shadowed place where only her pain existed.
It is only fatigue. The strain of worrying over Jane, the heat of the room, the endless dancing…Yet deep inside, unease coiled tighter. What if it were not merely worry? What if something else was amiss—something she could not yet name?
A movement outside caught her attention. Through a small gap in the curtain, she glimpsed two gentlemen walking swiftly across the drive. Their voices carried low, urgent, though she could not make out every word.
“…Worthington…delayed…better this way…”
Her breath caught. Were they speaking of Jane’s Mr. Worthington? She strained to hear more, but the men passed out of sight, their words swallowed by the night.
A shiver ran down her spine, though whether from the cool air seeping into the coach or the ominous mention of Jane’s suitor, she could not say. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and pressed trembling fingers against her forehead.
The pounding would not relent. The world tilted again, and she let herself sink further into the cushions, her strength ebbing like the tide. Still, she clung stubbornly to one thought, that shecould not abandon Jane, not now, not ever. If she had to drag herself back into that ballroom half conscious, she would…no matter how dizzy she felt.
