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“I remember when I wasn’t free to waltz,” Lady Regina chattered, as Lord Devin turned to the side to greet an acquaintance. “Lord FitzRoy-Paget, are you awake?”
Frederick opened his eyes and focused on the lady. “No. Surely only in a nightmare would the woman who tried to compromise my own brother consider it appropriate to converse with me.”
Lady Regina drew in her breath sharply. “Your brother … I shall say no more, as maidenly modesty forbids it!”
“Really?” Frederick looked slightly more awake. “Tell me more about maidenly modesty. I thought it had gone the way of dragons. Magnificent beasts, but nowhere to be found outside legend. My brother—Major FitzRoy—made it sound as if you were St. George and he the dragon to be slain.”
Daisy gave Frederick a reproving glance. Society at large had no idea that Regina had made a desperate attempt to compromise Livie’s husband, first by kissing him and then by announcing their betrothal. It would be very unkind of Frederick to reveal the truth.
Lady Regina turned to Daisy and laughed shrilly. “His lordship is attempting to be humorous. Major FitzRoy’s desire to bring his wife to the battlefields of Europe was sufficient to end our betrothal!”
Daisy didn’t like or trust Lady Regina. In fact, she clearly remembered telling her cousin that she planned to squash Regina under her slipper.
But now she had the distinct impression that Regina was anxious. Even lonely. And terrified that people would find out the reason why her latest betrothal came to naught.
“Where are your friends, the Misses Massinger?” Daisy asked, glancing around.
Regina hunched a shoulder. “Petunia married over the summer, and Prudence is hidden in the country because she has conceived again.”
In short, her friends had married, and Regina was still trying to find a fiancé who would stay with her, unlike her previous two … or was it three? Granted, Regina had played a part in her broken betrothals, but the major’s rejection last Season must have been particularly humiliating.
No trampling of Lady Regina.
At that moment, Lord Devin turned back to their group, drawing forward one of the most powerful women in polite society. “Lady Castlereigh, won’t you please allow me to escort Miss Wharton into the next dance? I gather she is not yet approved to waltz.”
The lady raised an eyebrow. “How interesting that you have decided to throw your hat into that particular ring,” she murmured before raising her voice. “Do waltz with Miss Wharton, Lord Devin. I’m sure your august presence will prove an excellent influence.”
“You must be joking,” Frederick muttered.
“I shall save you the first waltz after supper,” Regina informed Lord Devin. “In fact, we might share the meal to make certain that we locate each other.”
“Excellent,” the gentleman murmured, bowing.
“I’ve got a headache,” Frederick said to Daisy. “I’ll have a lie-down in the library. Come find me if you need me.”
He’d pass out on the sofa, but it was better to pry Frederick upright than find herself standing alone or joining her mother in the dowagers’ corner. She was lucky to have Frederick as a friend.
Though not, perhaps, as a suitor.
EPISODE NINETY FOUR
A DISASTER WHILE DANCING
Miles bowed before Daisy and placed his left hand on her back. His fingers tingled, and he found himself wrestling with an inappropriate wave of desire. Daisy may look like a pillar of salt, but she smelled like apple blossoms. Up close, her lips were utterly delectable: not port wine but sour cherries. Damn it.
She fit perfectly in his arms, moving fluidly backward as he stepped forward, both of them following the steps with easy skill.
“Are you insulted?” Daisy asked.
Miles shook off the effect of her smile. “Insulted by what?”
“I believe Lady Castlereigh implied that your silvered hair makes you a respectable escort to waltz with me.”
“I do not have silvered hair!”
Daisy squinted at his head. “Not yet.”
“She implied that you are a minx,” he pointed out.
