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“He returned to Cheshire.”

At first, they’d both been excited to come to London, certain Bea would quickly find a husband. Her father had been confident and generous, telling her that he would never accept an offer without consulting her first. He’d shared stories about the offers her mother had received, and the thrill, the exultation, he’d felt when she chose him over the others.

Needless to say, things had gone differently for Bea.

Her father had remained in London for two weeks, waiting for bouquets of posies, morning calls, invitations, all the things that were supposed to happen. He had to return to his bank after that; besides, they’d both surmised by then that suitors were unlikely to line up at the door.

Lady Paget was frowning. “I do not condone the practice of handing young ladies over to paid chaperones. Look at Lady Alcon’s behavior. As if her failures of last Season weren’t egregious enough, she left you at a ball without a suitable chaperone and scarcely a way to return home. I shall have a word with her about her lax behavior.”

Bea could just imagine Lady Alcon’s reaction to that.

Lady Paget opened the door. “Come along, dear. I’ll bring you to the library. There’s a warm fire, and you can dry off. It will take time for His Grace’s carriage to be brought around. You certainly don’t want to stay here and have to explain why you are wet!”

Query: What percentage of Lady Paget’s guests would believe that the lovely Lady Regina had dashed a pitcher of water at her?

Probability: Perhaps … 1%.

She had the odd feeling that Regina’s brother, the duke, might believe her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jonah gave his sister’s dance card a cursory glance. “You might want to avoid Freddy Arbuthnot. Word has it he’s gambled away his entire allowance again.”

“He’ll be a marquess someday,” Regina argued.

Jonah shrugged. “A penniless marquess would make an uncomfortable husband.”

“He won’t spend my money.”

“Your money is in the form of a dowry,” Jonah explained. “It will belong to him as soon as you marry.”

Regina smiled. “No, it won’t.”

If any woman could overturn the English legal system, it would be Regina. He couldn’t remember a single occasion in their childhood wherein she hadn’t gotten her way.

“Gambling holds a powerful allure,” he said, trying again. “I’ve seen Arbuthnot at the tables until three in the morning.”

“Not if I decide to marry him,” Regina stated.

He almost had sympathy for the gambler, but someone had to marry Regina. Having done his duty, he handed her to a young gentleman who vainly tried to hide his excitement at dancing with a duke’s daughter.

“You have a problem,” Devin said, appearing at his shoulder without warning.

“What?”

His friend gestured at Regina, who was briskly dragging the boy into the lead position in a country dance.

“Your sister.”

“What about her?” Jonah turned and surveyed the ball room again. What had happened to Miss Valentine? Not that he planned to dance attention on her, but he thought he might take her in to supper. Since he was here.

“She’s dampened her skirts,” Devin said, in a lowered voice.

For a moment, Jonah thought he was talking about Beatrice Valentine. A dizzy, fleeting image of that young lady in wet skirts that clung to her curvy body lanced through his mind.

“Not only is it unsuitable,” Devin continued, “but she’ll gain a reputation as soon as the dowagers notice.”

“Are you talking about Regina?” Jonah said, belatedly making sense of the conversation.