She’d taken only a few steps away from her host and hostess when Chidding greeted her with a warm smile, bowed over her hand, and touched a light, barely whisper of a kiss to it. She imagined he might do the same before climbing into bed with her. He was incrediblyformal, but it was the way he’d been brought up. He would never be the object of a salacious book or have his name associated with scandal. But then she would provide enough scandal for them both. She need only determine if he was willing and capable of weathering the storms her mother’s misguided heart and her own impetuous one would be sending their way.
Straightening, he said, with true joy in his voice, “I’m frightfully glad you’re here. Will you honor me with your first waltz and your last?”
“I would be delighted.”
He complimented her loveliness, as though it was something over which she had control, commented on the pleasant evening air, but stopped short of asking her to take a stroll about the garden in it.
After he left her to make her way through the crowded ballroom, she took a coupe of champagne from a passing footman and wandered along the edge of the dance floor. To a small group of four women she recognized from her first Season because they, too, had debuted that year, she offered a small smile that was not returned by any of them. As a matter of fact, in unison, they managed to give the appearance of presenting their backs to her, even without a single one of them actually turning around. She recalled each had gained a husband, but before they’d achieved their good fortune they’d viewed her as competition—even if they’d all been courted by firstborn sons while she’d had the attentions of the lesser ones.
She hated that terminology, because it implied one son was not as important as another. Why should only one son inherit? Why should so much stock be placedin him? She’d become so involved in inwardly arguing the unfairness of the untenable situation, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand landed briefly on her bared upper arm. When she spun around, a bubble of laughter escaped. “Lady Letitia.”
The young woman smiled brightly. “You looked as you do when concentrating deeply on your cards at a gaming table at the Dragons.”
“Merely contemplating the hard row non-firstborn sons are forced to plow.”
“You have a firstborn interested in you, though. Viscount Chidding’s face quite lit up when your name was announced.”
More than a hundred people had to be circling about this room, and the lady noticed one gentleman’s reaction? Why had she been studying Chidding to begin with? Had she a tendre for him? “He has shown me some kindness, yes. Not everyone does.”
“Probably because you best them at cards. You took most of my allowance the last time I sat at a table with you.”
It was silly to be grateful to this girl for drawing her aside, for actually speaking with her, and to feel a need to show a measure of appreciation after the rebuffs she’d suffered thus far. Regina placed her hand near some curling strands of her hair that dangled against her neck and began coiling the tresses around her index finger. “You always play with your hair like this when you’re holding a pair of jacks or better.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “I do not!”
Regina shrugged. “As you wish.”
“Do I really?” Lady Letitia furrowed her brow and gnawed on her lower lip.
“And you do that—worry your teeth on that lovely lower lip I’m certain some gent wishes to kiss—when you’ve been dealt nothing of consequence.”
“Devil take it. I think I do. Is that how you manage to win?”
“The players always reveal much more than the cards.”
“What about Lord Langdon? How do you know what sort of hand he’s holding?”
“Ah, he gives no hints whatsoever. He is a formidable player, although I suspect it is because his family has a close association with the club owner, and he’s spent many hours at the card table, perfecting his ability to give nothing away. From what I understand, his family’s origins are almost as scandalous as mine.”
“Much worse to be sure. His father was known as the Devil Earl. While yours, in spite of his sins, still managed to be respected by most of theton.”
His sins.Of which she was the result of one. No matter how fancy she dressed or how warmly she was greeted, she couldn’t remove the stain of her birth. She’d condemned her daughter to a repeat of her mother’s life. Would Chidding be able to spare the child at least some of the worst of it?
“What of Lord Knightly?”
With a mental shake to turn her thoughts from her worries, she studied the young woman standing before her. “What of him?”
“Does he provide any clues regarding his cards?”
When he knew he had a chance of winning, hebrushed back those forelocks that never wanted to stay in place. She offered the lady a coy smile. “I can’t share all my secrets. It would place me at a disadvantage, and I do so love winning.”
“Who doesn’t?” Lord Lawrence asked as he smoothly stepped into their circle. He bowed his head toward her. “Miss Leyland, I hope you’re enjoying yourself at my brother’s soiree.”
“I am indeed, my lord.”
“Good. I hate to deprive you of conversation, but”—he offered his arm to Lady Letitia—“this lovely lady promised me the next dance.”
As Lady Letitia placed her hand upon his forearm, she also began twirling strands of her hair, so her habit extended beyond the gaming table to signal anything she truly liked or took pleasure in. Or perhaps she thought she was on the verge of winning Lord Lawrence. Regina decided she didn’t need to make the lady feel self-conscious by telling her what she’d noticed. “Enjoy the quadrille,” she said instead and then watched them walk away.
