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“You’re a partner? How splendid.” Pride shone in her clear blue eyes, the outer ring a deeper, navy-blue. “I always knew you’d be a magnificent lawyer.” She had? “Well done, James. I’m so pleased for you.”

And she was. Her smile and the approval in her eyes weren’t affected or merely politesse. Her reaction was, perhaps, the first authentic thing he’d detected since she’d tilted his world on its end and violently spun it around and around thirty minutes ago. The rest she kept hidden behind that carefully constructed façade of decorum.

If James hadn’t known the carefree, vivacious girl of his youth, he might’ve believed the coolly poised, elegant woman before him had always been thus. She’d certainly taken to the role of a duchess with admirable aplomb, hadn’t she?

The churlish thought left a foul taste in his mouth and a prick of guilt as well. He’d convinced himself he didn’t care, and his bitter ruminations proved him a liar.

“Well, do you wish to visit the museum or not?” he asked, irritation with himself giving his tone a cryptic edge. Damn it all, she’d think he was angry with her.

Regine blinked twice then slowly nodded.

“I should be delighted to.” A becoming flush tinted her ivory cheeks, whether from pleasure, the brisk breeze and frigid temperature, or his sharp question he couldn’t determine. “I’m sure Juliet will as well. She’s ever so fascinated with displays and antiquities.”

The latter seemed an afterthought, and the notion pleased him more than it ought. Blast, but he must guard himself against Regine. One winsome smile or joy-filled gaze, and he was practically throwing himself at her feet. Again. Fool!

“Shall we meet you there at three of the clock?” she asked, her head tilted at an endearing angle. An angle ideal for kissing her sweet mouth. For tasting the soft, velvety pillows.

He tore his gaze from those tempting lips.

What had she said?

Ah, yes. Three. Museum.

Perfect. If James arrived at his office by six, he’d still put in a full day’s work before he left at half-past two. “Yes, that will suit.”

“I shall look forward to it,” she said. “And I’m sure Juliet will be beside herself with excitement.”

He handed her into the coach, and long after the door clicked closed, with the wind battering him from without, and his cracked heart buffeting him from within, he watched the conveyance. When the equipage turned a corner, he heaved a gusty sigh.

You, James Abraham Evan Brentwood, are out of your sodding mind.

One outing, he sternly admonished himself. One. And then he’d have Regine out of his system once and for all.

Like hell, he would.

Regine’s stomach churned, tangling in worse knots than the time Juliet’s cat had frolicked in the embroidery threads. She placed a gloved palm on her abdomen, certain she’d feel her belly rolling over itself. Breathing deeply, she checked her timepiece before tucking the watch inside her reticule once more—the fourth time since leaving Grosvenor Square.

It was precisely five minutes to three. Not so early as to seem overly-eager, but not late either. She abhorred tardiness and, similarly, disliked waiting on others—both bespoke a lack of consideration and respect. Heartwaite had maintained otherwise, and she swore while he had lived, they’d arrived fashionably late to every dratted function.

Fretting James might change his mind, she’d not told Juliet they were to meet him. Her sister would ask questions Regine wasn’t prepared to answer.

“Bullock’s Museum of Natural Curiosities,” Juliet breathed, practically pressing her turned-up nose to the glass as the carriage rumbled to a stop before two and twenty Piccadilly. “So many marvelous novelties from around the world. All in one place.” She gave an excited little bounce upon the seat as if she were six years old and not fifteen. “I’m ever so glad you agreed we might visit.”

Bestowing an indulgent smile on her, Regine gave silent thanks to James for having made the suggestion. Had he recalled Juliet’s fascination with nature even when she’d been a little girl? How often she’d find a feather, a rock, an insect, or something else, and insist on sharing her treasure with anyone who would listen?

“I’ve heard there are fossils and many preserved birds.” A wrinkle appeared between Juliet’s dark eyebrows above the thin metal bridge of her spectacles. “I confess, I think it’s quite barbaric to kill creatures simply so humans can gawk at them. But I also acknowledge it would be difficult and cruel to keep live species in cages and such.”

“We’ll not visit any exhibits you object to, dear.” Regine patted Juliet’s arm, her stomach tumbling over on itself upon spying James standing, tall and confident, outside the museum’s entrance. His beaver hat and a midnight blue caped greatcoat bespoke quality without being ostentatious. He might easily pass for a lord of the realm.

Her blasted, traitorous heart leaped with anticipation. She had no right to the gladness careening through her upon seeing him. Unwittingly, she clenched Juliet’s arm, and then catching herself, withdrew her hand.

Foolish, foolish goosecap. The carriage bounced as the driver descended, giving her a minute to gather her equanimity and disguise her rattled state.

Juliet—her head cocked like an inquisitive sparrow, her rounded blue eyes assessing Regine much too astutely from behind thick lenses—formed her mouth into a small moue.

Before her inquisitive sister could ask whatever probing question had formed in her mind, Regine fashioned an artificial smile luminous enough to light Seven Dials. At midnight. During a winter storm. Truthfully, she felt somewhat like she grinned in the rigid manner of a grotesque gargoyle.

She scrambled for a topic to distract Juliet. “I forgot to ask if you need any more materials for the orphanage’s valentines?”