Regina sighed again. “She can have him as far as I’m concerned.”
“What about Lord Treadwell?” Lucy offered, her eyes scanning the ballroom.
Regina glanced over to the refreshment table where she’d seen Lord Treadwell minutes before. “Yes. He seems… nice.”
“Oh, dear,nice.” Lucy pulled a face. “The worst word in the world when it comes to husband hunting. Ranks up there withpleasantanddecent.”
Regina gave Lucy a wan smile and shrugged.
“Too bad the Duke of Huntley is a bit young yet.” Lucy snapped her fan shut. “He’d be perfect, though I daresay, I already have a match picked out for him one day.” Her eyes twinkled.
Regina was barely listening. She was supposed to be paying attention to the duchess and looking for a husband, but her gaze scanned the crowd for Daffin. He’d allowed the ladies to enter the crush ahead of him while he kept his distance. Regina had had a quick, discreet talk with Lady Hillard to briefly explain the situation. Thank goodness Lady Hillard wasn’t a gossip. She’d readily agreed to act as if Daffin were just another guest at the party. She seemed thrilled, actually, to have the famous Bow Street Runner from the paper as a guest in her home.
For his part, Daffin didn’t seem particularly amused with the party. He faded into the background so seamlessly that, at times, Regina had to look twice to find him. Once in a while, she’d catch him talking to someone, but his gazeremained focused on her. He was doing his job, she knew, but she couldn’t help but catch her breath every time she found those green eyes intently watching her from across the crowded ballroom. Her belly felt a bit sick. But in a good way. Just as Lucy described. Drat.
“Oh, there’s the Marquess of Morvenwood,” Lucy said, a catlike smile on her face. “I’ve been looking for him all evening. Widowed over a year ago. Recently back in the marriage mart.Highlyeligible. I’ll just pop over and greet him and bring him over for a visit.”
Regina watched Lucy go with halfhearted interest. She was being the worst sort of matchmakee, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. Her fantasies just happened to be filled with Daffin.
Moments later, Lucy came strolling back with the Marquess of Morvenwood in tow. Regina narrowed her eyes on the man. She didn’t recall him from her former days on the marriage mart. He’d been married by the time she’d made her debut. The marquess was nearly forty years of age, tall, with dark brown eyes and dark brown hair with a bit of silver at the temples. He was certainly a decent-looking chap. There was something about his eyes that looked hard, however, perhaps tired. No doubt losing your wife did that to you. She felt a tug of sympathy toward him.
“Regina, there you are,” Lucy exclaimed as if she hadn’t left her side moments ago. “I was just telling the marquess what a wonderful dancer you are.”
Regina nearly choked on the champagne she was sipping. She wasnota wonderful dancer. Never had been. She was more likely to step on the marquess’s feet than impress him.
Lucy made the introductions and the marquess bowed to Regina. “My lady,” he intoned. “A pleasure.”
“You absolutely must dance to the next waltz,” Lucy declared, and as if her words conjured the music, a waltz began to play.
The hint of a smile touched the marquess’s lips. “It would be my honor.” He presented his arm to Regina, who swiftly handed her glass to Lucy and placed her gloved hand on the marquess’s sleeve.
Regina managed to dance the entire waltz without injuring the marquess. She was feeling quite pleased with herself, when he surprised her by saying, “Would you care to see the conservatory?”
“The conservatory?” She blinked at him. Had she heard him correctly?
“Lady Hillard was telling me earlier about her prized roses,” he continued. “I’ve been hoping to get away to look at them. I thought perhaps you would like to join me.”
It might have been years since Regina had been actively searching for a husband, but she keenly remembered that gentlemen did not ask ladies to go away with them privately at events such as this. Perhaps the marquess was taking a liberty due to her advanced age. She was about to refuse him when he added, “My apologies. I can see the request has made you uncomfortable. I forget myself. My wife would have loved to see the roses and I must remember she’s no longer here. I shall go by myself.”
Suddenly Regina felt petty for refusing to look at some flowers. The man was obviously still in love with his deceased wife. He wasn’t trying to make an unwanted pass at her. “I’ll meet you there,” she said to him. “I, too, love roses.”
The marquess smiled at her and took his leave and Regina turned around and nearly ran straight into Lucy. “Well?” theduchess asked, tapping a slipper on the parquet floor. “How was the dance? Any sparks?” She waggled her dark eyebrows.
“I’m afraid not,” Regina replied. “He seems like quite a nice man who misses his wife terribly.”
Lucy shuddered. “Oh, dear, there’s that word again,nice.”
“I’m not certain which would be worse, being married to Dryden who’s certain to ignore me, or being married to a marquess who wishes I’m his dead wife.”
Lucy scrunched up her nose. “Neither seem appealing, dear. I hoped you might feel a spark.”
A spark? At the mention of a spark, Regina lifted her head to scan the ballroom for Daffin again. She didn’t see him.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Regina told Lucy. No use courting scandal by telling Lucy where she was going. Besides, she would only stay briefly. No one would be the wiser. She should tell Daffin. But Daffin, for the first time all evening, was nowhere to be found. She bit her lip and glanced toward the door. The marquess would be waiting for her. She wouldn’t be gone long.
She slowly made her way to the doorway and waited until a new waltz began to play, before turning, lifting her skirts, and slipping from the ballroom, headed in the direction of the Hillards’ conservatory. She remembered the way from a long-ago tour of the home with Lady Hillard. Down the corridor, a right and then a left, the conservatory sat at the end of a long portrait gallery.
The moment she opened the glass doors that led into the humid room, the smell of roses overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes and breathed it in, enjoying the scent. What a lovely place. The conservatory at Colchester Manor had always been one of her favorite places, too.
