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“Of course,” Bea said, backing up a step and pulling her arm free. “I appreciate your advice.”

Regina leaned after her, as if to share a confidence and hissed, “You didn’t, did you? You look as fleshy as you did when I last saw you. Your face is as round as the moon.”

“I did,” Bea said.

A lie.

Regina saw it in her eyes. Bea had never been any good at lying.

“I think you need more convincing. Perhaps a touch of humiliation in front of the world will convince you.”

“No!” Bea squeaked, but Regina’s face twisted with disgust.

“You don’t know what’s best for you,” she whispered, so sharply that spittle hit Bea’s cheek. “Brother.” Regina’s voice was suddenly as light and airy as could be. “I insist, I simply insist that you dance with Miss Valentine.”

Her brother turned back, looking down at his sister, one eyebrow raised. Bea shivered. If Regina’s fiancé was perpetually bored, her brother was … cold. Hard. Suddenly she did believe the rumor that he’d been to war.

“You know that it does remarkable things for a young lady’s reputation to be seen in your company,” Regina said, syrupy sweet.

The duke turned to Bea. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. He flashed a smile, but his eyes remained arctic.

“No, thank you,” Bea replied, keeping it simple. With an extreme exertion of will, she stopped herself from turning around and dashing into the crowd. When, oh when, had she become such a coward?

It was just that Regina was looming over her. Why did the woman have to be so confounded tall? If Regina wasn’t so big, Bea would be better at fighting back.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Bea never realized before coming to London that she was such a craven, chicken-hearted fool. She dropped an awkward curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to—”

“No,” Regina stated. “Lennox, just look at what you’ve done! You’ve frightened poor Miss Valentine with your ghastly lack of courtesy. Shame on you, Brother. I insist that you take Miss Valentine onto the ballroom floor.”

“No, please!” Bea exclaimed, but Regina spoke over her.

“Dancing with a duke will cause all eyes to be on Beatrice. It might be just the thing to bring her into fashion. We’ve been trying to get people to stop saying such unkind things about … well, about her figure, but to no avail.”

The duke cast his sister a look that—surely that wasn’t dislike? No; there was no emotion at all in his eyes. He reached out and took Bea’s hand before she could snatch it away, bowed, and brought it to his lips. “I repeat that dancing with you would be a pleasure, Miss Valenthorn.”

“Valentine,” she said, rescuing her hand.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Lennox,” Regina said, beaming. She turned to Bea. “You probably don’t realize this, having spent your life in the country, but my brother doesn’t dance with just anyone. You’ll want to be your most graceful, Beatrice.”

The duke caught that and frowned at his sister. “Of course Miss Valentines will be graceful.”

“Valentine,” Bea said, but she kept it low. Perhaps he was mispronouncing her name to make fun of her. That was precisely the sort of foolish quip that sent Regina into trills of laughter.

“You have no need to remind the lady to be poised,” His Grace finished.

Bea was graceless on the dance floor, and Regina knew it—which was precisely why she had pushed her brother into the dance.

Bea invariably turned the wrong direction and couldn’t seem to remember the pattern. Waltzing was a particular horror. The men were all so tall that she found herself being jerked along, like a marionette on strings.

“They’re calling a waltz!” Regina cried, clapping. “Now remember, Beatrice. Follow the duke, and don’t try to take control, the way you did with Lord Fettle. We all know that didn’t end well.”

Fettle had been drunk, tripped over Bea’s feet, and bumped into Regina. Regina had given Bea a shove that sent her sprawling on the floor.

That was the first time she came to Regina’s attention, five wearisome weeks ago. Fettle had capped the event by laughing hysterically when Regina had surveyed Bea and announced to all and sundry that Bea’s tumble was clearly due to the fact that her weight made her unsteady on her feet.