Page 26

CHAPTER TEN

“Shut up!” Bea snapped.

Without conscious volition, her hand flashed to the pitcher, scooped up a generous handful of water, and dashed it at Regina.

Who screamed.

“Oh my, look at that,” Bea said. She didn’t know what had overcome her, but suddenly she didn’t feel cowed in the least. Not by these silly girls.

Regina was plucking at her white skirts, which didn’t show spots, but clung to her legs. In fact, Bea decided that Regina’s limbs resembled those of a stork, and her knees stuck out like the wheels on a cart.

Martha fell to her knees and began dabbing ineffectively at Regina’s gown with a towel.

When Bea registered that she wasn’t the one on her knees, a little smile curled the edges of her mouth.

“You dare,” Regina squawked, sounding dumbfounded and infuriated at once. “You—you’re smiling? At me?”

“You wanted someone to kneel before you,” Bea said, with a gasp of laughter. “Martha will have to do.”

Behind Regina’s shoulder, the door began to open.

Regina didn’t notice; an unholy light had lit in her eyes. She wrenched her skirts out of Martha’s hands, grabbed the pitcher, and tossed the contents straight at Bea.

Bea yelped as a wave of cold water struck her midsection, sinking instantly through her gown and chemise. At the same moment, she met the astonished eyes of their hostess, Lady Paget, standing in the doorway.

In the blink of an eye, Regina turned from an infuriated Medusa to an injured damsel. She dropped the pitcher back on the table, turned on her heel, and threw herself at Lady Paget. “Beatrice Valentine destroyed my toilette, and now I daren’t return to the ball,” she wailed. “The Earl of Winchester has asked me for the supper dance!”

Bea was shivering; her skirts were drenched, water running into her slippers. Lady Paget looked her over, shaking her head.

“I can’t even summon a governess,” the lady said, sounding stunned. “What we need here is a nanny.”

Regina’s narrow shoulders were shaking with sobs.

“Lady Regina had to defend herself,” Martha cried. She was back on her feet, though Bea noticed that a big splash of water marked her gown in just such a position to suggest that she’d had an accident while using a chamber pot.

Lady Paget raised an eyebrow. She had put her arms around Regina, but Bea thought her patting seemed perfunctory. To this point, all society had followed Regina’s lead. But Lady Paget looked less easy to fool, perhaps because she’d raised several children and knew a nursery fight when she saw it.

“Lady Regina threw water at me, intending to make it appear that I had dampened my petticoats,” Bea explained. “For her part, Lady Prudence threw cake on the floor so that people would think I had retired here in order to eat.”

Her explanation ended in a shiver. Bea was so cold that her teeth were chattering. From where she stood, Bea couldn’t see any tears on Regina’s face, although she was blotting her eyes with a handkerchief.

Lady Paget sighed and put Regina away from her. “Pull yourself together, my dear. We all know how high passions can run during the Season, particularly for those in their first year. I’m sure you’re sorry, aren’t you, Lady Regina?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Regina whimpered. “I lost my head.”

Bea would never apologize, which Lady Paget obviously guessed, since she said, “Lady Regina, you may return to the ballroom. You’ll be in time for the supper dance. Lady Martha, you may also return, but I suggest you remain seated until your gown dries.”

Martha glanced down at her front and let out a yelp.

“I couldn’t go back to the dance,” Regina said, catching her breath, as if from a fit of violent sobbing. “My gown is damp!” She turned and looked at herself in the glass.

Bea thought Regina’s damp gown was extremely unflattering, but Regina clearly didn’t agree. Her lips curled appreciatively as she surveyed the way her skirts clung to her lean thighs. “Perhaps it’s not so terrible.”

“You won’t be the only one with dampened petticoats,” Lady Paget said dryly. “I shall be certain to inform everyone that your appearance is the result of an accident. Lady Martha, Lady Regina, I will speak to you later.”

Bea realized that Prudence and Petunia had snuck out of the room at some point. She wound her arms around her breasts as Regina—with one last, virulent glare at Bea—left with Martha.

“You’re too wet for further dancing, my dear,” Lady Paget said to Bea. “I will, of course, be happy to inform the gentlemen who have signed your dance card.”