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But now …

Regina had exposed herself in front of Lady Paget, a leader in society, which surely meant that she was unlikely to approach Bea again. What’s more, Bea would never again be so vulnerable. She knew it in her core.

She had spoken back.

Regina loved to inspire fear and humiliation, which was why she created opportunities to shame Bea on the dance floor. Ironically enough, she had forced her brother into that dance at the Sheffield ball, which had led directly to Bea’s salvation.

One single dance with a man who looked at her with a glow of admiration had given Bea backbone and made her remember that she was not merely a country mouse.

In the morning, she would begin preparations to return home, which would be a relief for poor Lady Alcon. Once back in Cheshire, she would inform her father that she meant to find a husband at a local assembly, because Londoners weren’t for her.

Her heart lightened at the thought. She loved everything about Cheshire and there was still a month of spring left before the season—the real season—would turn into summer.

Query: What percentage of people invited to the Paget ball would choose a northwest county mostly known for its cheese over London?

Probability: Leaving her out of it, zero.

Not a single glossy aristocrat out there in the ballroom, circling each other while letting fly barbed remarks, would prefer Cheshire.

Though she did wonder about Regina’s brother, the duke.

It might take a while to forget the burliness of him and the way he looked at her from shadowed eyes. She had loved dancing with him, but it wasn’t until they’d talked—about barns of all subjects—that she truly noticed him as a man.

He wasn’t as beautiful as Lord Peregrine. In fact, she’d describe him as striking, rather than handsome. His hair was mahogany dark and always seemed rumpled. He had icy gray eyes, the same color as Regina’s.

Yet if Regina’s were cruel, his were intense.

He had watched her from the side of the room as if he knew what she was thinking. Or as if he wanted to know what she was thinking.

He was bigger and bolder than she had ever imagined a husband. Her father was short and round, but she recognized a key similarity: like her father, the duke was, surprisingly, a hard worker. Clear-sighted, too. Bea had the distinct feeling that Jonah loved his sister dutifully, but without sentimentality.

He made her heart thump, but not because she was afraid of him, the way she was—the way she had been—of Regina.

Not that it mattered, since she was going home.

Lady Paget walked into the library, closing the door behind her. “I’ve prevailed upon the Duke of Lennox to allow you to return home in his carriage. He will escort you to the vehicle and inform his coachman.”

“I truly don’t want to put him to trouble! Lady Regina wasn’t serious when she offered—”

“Oh, I know that,” Lady Paget said, walking over. Her eyes drifted over Bea’s slippers and the wet stockings draped on the fireplace screen.

“You might send me home accompanied by a footman, in a hackney,” Bea suggested. “Or perhaps you could send a groom to my father’s townhouse. Lady Alcon would send the carriage back for me. I’m sure she didn’t realize that Lady Regina was merely funning.”

“Lady Alcon ought to have known as much,” Lady Paget said sharply. “Of course, I could send you home in one of our vehicles, in the company of a maid and groom.”

“Well, then,” Bea said, more happily.

“But I shan’t.” The lady turned her back to the fire. “Did you know that I was friends with your mother?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bea said. “As children, or when she was a young woman?”

“We were girls together,” Lady Paget said. “I felt an acute loss when she died. I loved her very much. We exchanged letters every Tuesday for years, until we both had children, and life interfered. I must give you those letters. She writes about you so lovingly.”

“I would like that of all things,” Bea exclaimed. “I have memories of her, but they have faded, of course.”

“How old were you when she passed away?”

“Eleven.”