“I daresay I will not.”
She gave as ladylike a scoff as she could muster and arched a brow. “You claim that now—”
“Tomorrow, Hyde Park, half four. We’ll put your theory to the test.”
She had only another few seconds to ponder him and his words before the music drifted into silence, and the din of conversation took up residence, bombarding her ears and making it impossible to think, to decipher if he was mocking or daring her. Or making a promise, the sort she had little doubt every unmarried lady in the aristocracy longed for, a rendezvous in the park when it would be filled to the brim with everyone anxious to be viewed.
He repeated his earlier smooth maneuver where her hand, suddenly without any effort on her part, found itself on his firm and solid forearm. He escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, lifted her fingers to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the gloved tips so firmly the heat of his mouth managed to make its way to her skin like no barrier separated them. His gaze, intense and unwavering, never left hers. “Tomorrow. I’ll find you.”
Then he was confidently walking away, leaving her feeling a bit unsteady on her feet, as though something significantly more than a dance had occurred between them.
King had waited. Knight had known he would. He’d been tempted to ask the lovely lady for another turn about the floor, but he’d managed to catch a glimpse of her dance card and noted not a single dance had remained unclaimed. He suspected she had the right of it. Those with empty coffers were striving to fill them as easily and quickly as possible. A daughter with a significant dowry was always the preferred method among noble sons who were opposed to work. Bugger the lot of them.
“I’ll leave it to you to explain to Bishop and Rook the reason they had to wait on us for the true merriment of the evening to begin,” King said as his coach carried them through London.
“By all means, it should fall to me, although I doubt very much if they’ll mind. We have plenty of night left.”
“You seemed anxious to leave once you finished your dance. Did it not go as you’d hoped?”
It had gone differently than he’d expected, but he hadn’t wanted to watch her dance with others, to discover if she enjoyed being in the company of someone else more. If some other gent had the ability to coax a smile from her. If her eyes would warm for another. “I was merely in the mood for a dance, King. Make no more of it than that.”
King issued a little grunt, his equivalent of calling Knight a liar, but it required no response, was merely an acknowledgment. Because it was a lie. He’d been in the mood for a closer association with the woman, had wanted to know her better. Having her in his arms had been sublime. She was light on her feet, wispy as a cloud. Delicate and yet sturdy. But it was what he’d discovered while talking with her that fascinated him. She wasn’t like the other women who flung themselves at him, anxious to wield the power that came from being a countess who would one day be a duchess. She’d seemed to have no interest in him at all.
“I detest these balls,” King muttered. “I believe I’m going to stop attending.”
“You go to few enough as it is.”
“But going to none would be even fewer.”
“How do you propose finding a wife? The whole purpose of these affairs is to facilitate the arrangement of matches.”
“I’m not yet ready to take a wife. When I am, I’ll come up with another means to spare me the bother of these tedious social engagements. Perhaps I’ll run an advert.”
Knight laughed. “Oh, I can’t imagine that tactic will go well. Your mother won’t take kindly to your lack of participation.”
“As she’s begun to travel more, I doubt she’ll even notice.” He glanced out the window. “Ah, good. Almost there.”
The coach came to a stop. A few minutes later, they were inside the Mermaid and Unicorn. Located in Whitechapel, it was seldom frequented by nobility, which was one of the reasons they liked it. They were never bothered by people wanting investment advice.
Knight immediately spotted Rook and Bishop at their favorite table in a back corner. Tumblers of scotch were already waiting for them as he and King drew back the empty chairs and sat. In a ritual from their Oxford days, they each immediately lifted a glass and held it aloft in a salute before tossing back the contents.
Bishop began pouring from the bottle he’d no doubt purchased to save the barmaid being run ragged with all their requests. “What kept you?”
“Knight took a fancy to the earl’s daughter and decided to have a dance with her.”
“Thought you were going to let me tell them,” Knight said, glowering at his friend.
“You’d have lied.”
“She must have been pretty, then,” Rook said. “He only dances with the pretty ones.”
“She was very comely,” Knight admitted. “Like King here, she didn’t want to be there.”
“Hence you thought your company would make the evening more pleasant for her,” Rook said, grinning.
“How could it have not?” He took a sip of his scotch. “I’m the most pleasant among us.”
His comment received a mixture of groans, laughs, and headshakes. He did enjoy time with his mates. But not nearly as much as he’d enjoyed those few minutes with Miss Regina Leyland.
Chapter 3
What he asked of me was simple enough. “Turn around.” His voice was gravelly with need, and I did not hesitate to comply. Then his mouth swooped in to capture mine. Of their own accord, my lips parted for him. Soon his tongue was tangled with mine. Nothing had ever felt so wicked . . . or so sublime.
—Anonymous, My Secret Desires, A Memoir
June 5, 1875
When the coach finally drew to a halt in front of her residence, Regina was still trembling from her earlier encounter with Knightly. Blast the man for ruining her evening, tonight of all nights, when she’d spent a delightful afternoon with Lord Chidding and was striving to determine if he could provide her with the protection she required. If he was strong enough, powerful enough to withstand Society’s censure if the truth of her ever came out. If? No, when, because the truth always revealed itself, usually at the worst possible time. Would he stand beside her—or would he bolt at the last minute as Knightly had done?
She’d simply needed a few hours of not worrying about how her carefully constructed life had begun to fray at the edges. Of looking upon her past, of acknowledging decisions made that at the time had seemed so very wise—and all too often had threatened to be her undoing.
And Knightly, damn the man, was at the center of each and every unfortunate decision made. Damn, damn, damn him.
She was reaching for the door when it suddenly opened. Crossing the threshold, she smiled at her butler. “You didn’t have to wait up, Shelby.”
“I can’t sleep until I know you’re home safe and sound, miss.”
“Well, I’m safe. I don’t know how sound I am.” As she had no wrap or other item to hand off to him, she merely bade him good night and headed up the stairs.
Once in her bedchamber, she rang for her maid. It wasn’t until Millie had assisted her into getting out of her gown and into her nightdress and was brushing out her hair that her most trusted servant mused, “Things didn’t go well at the club.”