Page 47

Just as they neared the throng of costumed guests, there was a commotion: a clamor of voices and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor.

Damn it, some reprobate had touched her again.

He dove into the crowd, shoving past a Caesar and two Cinderellas before skidding to a halt just in time to avoid stepping on a woman lying on the floor.

The fallen woman wore one of those masquerade veils, along with a diamond coronet tipped over one eye. Lady Regina, presumably, though his lady was nowhere to be seen. Like a boat stuck on a sandbar, the lady seemed to be unable to regain her footing. The bolster under her gown held her thrashing legs in the air like an upturned turtle, stuck on its back in the sand. The group of party-goers who surrounded her stood stock still, watching her shriek at them with evident curiosity.

So much for polite society.

Stifling a sigh, Joshua leaned over and extended a hand. “Good evening. May I help you to your feet?”

Regina wrenched off her veil, and her diamond circlet skittered across the floor. She blinked up at him with huge blue eyes. “It’s you,” she breathed.

Which made no sense, but Joshua didn’t give it a second thought. He needed to get her up so he could resume his search. He bent farther, slipped an arm around her slender back, and brought her to her feet.

“Oh, my goodness!” their hostess exclaimed, popping out of the crowd. “What on earth happened, Lady Regina?”

“Too much champagne,” someone said audibly.

Her Grace frowned in the direction of that ill-mannered remark.

Joshua steadied the lady and stepped back.

“I tumbled to the ground while demonstrating a chassé to a bungling friend,” Lady Regina explained, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Our feet tangled.” She glanced about. “Likely, mortification has sent her away in tears.”

“I see,” Joshua said, retreating another step.

“Lady Regina, may I introduce your rescuer, Major Joshua FitzRoy-Paget?” the Duchess of Trent asked.

The lady dropped into a deep curtsy; Joshua suppressed a sigh and bowed. “Good evening, Lady Regina.”

“Good evening,” she said, smiling at him. He noticed—disinterestedly—that she was exquisite, though her eyes were hard as blue marbles. Drunk or not, Frederick was invariably accurate in his assessments: Lady Regina was pretty and poisonous.

“Speaking of the chassé step,” the duchess said, “we shall open the ball with a country dance. Major FitzRoy-Paget, if you would please accompany Lady Regina?”

She turned and waved at the orchestra, seated on a balcony.

Lady Regina beamed and stuck out a bony elbow; Joshua slipped a hand through it. The musicians fell silent, and guests drew back to the edges of the ballroom. The Duke of Trent joined his wife, and the four of them faced each other in a square in the center of the room.

When the music began again, he and the duke bowed to their partners. As he straightened, Joshua caught sight of Frederick, furiously waggling his eyebrows. He gave his brother a look, silently commanding him to find the lady in the red domino.

Frederick gave him a mad grin and turned away, so hopefully he understood.

For the next half-hour, Joshua and Lady Regina skipped and hopped their way through the country dance. All eyes were on them until another four dancers joined in, and then another. When the dance finally ended, the floor was filled with twirling, jumping aristocrats … and Joshua was irritated beyond belief.

He had a hard time mustering up a smile when Lady Regina curtsied at the music’s close. Together with her avid eyes and oft-wiggling bottom—thanks to the pillow she had strapped under her dress—he was forcibly reminded of a bird engaging in a mating dance.

Surely he was wrong about her interest in him. After all, an ostentatious diamond glittered on her left hand.

“I owe you so much for rescuing me,” Lady Regina cooed. “I shall award you the supper dance, Major FitzRoy-Paget, so that I can thank you at leisure.”

Despite himself, he made a grouchy sound, but her smile only widened.

“I know masterful men such as you prefer to ask your partners, but I saw you looking at my betrothal ring.” She leaned closer. “A daughter of a duke can change her mind even the day before the altar.”

She slipped away before he could come up with an excuse.

That was a mating dance.