Page 2

Gatwich Place, Mayfair, London

S he was tired of waiting. This glittering, exclusive event hosted by Lady Trawley was meant to unofficially announce her engagement to her fiancé, The Baron Starkley.

It would mark the beginning of the end of her autonomy, the first step into a life of privilege and desolation, and Regina had spent it flanked by her parents, watching couples swirl before her in a lukewarm room choked with the musk of exertion and the sickening sweetness of perfume.

The frank stares and stilted smiles followed by almost discreet whispers were more insulting than a pointed finger.

Didn’t they find the pretense exhausting?

She’d almost rather they behaved with an ounce of integrity and spoke up, so she didn’t have to strain her ears to hear what they had to say.

She missed Elodia and Ada. They had always been able to lift her spirits even at the worst of times, but after their adventure involving Mr. Thompson, a stolen carriage, a kidnapped driver and a jaunt to Gretna Green, her parents had refused to let her out of their sight.

Under her mother’s insistence, and to Lillian’s delight, her father had returned them to Kent a fortnight before Ada’s delayed wedding reception, hosted by Ada’s newly recovered brother, Mr. Richard Thornfield.

Then Ada had gone on honeymoon with Mr. Thompson.

Regina’s mother had even banned contact until a few months ago.

Her mother had only allowed the family to be in London because Regina’s fiancé was expected back this season.

If not for that, she would still be at their estate in Kent practicing her Bharatanatyam and Kathak dancing with her mother and Lillian or fencing and shooting with her father.

So, she was here, trotted out yet again for a social gathering she couldn’t participate in to visibly await a man who would finally marry her and bestow a title.

She knew she was destined to be a baroness, but the man to do the job was proving to be far more elusive.

Her father, currently tapping his fingers restlessly on his arm, had taken the ingenious step of setting up the contract of marriage between her and the title of the Baron Starkley.

It was unusual to be sure, but Mrs. Mason wanted a baroness for a daughter and Captain Mason was nothing if not a devoted husband.

That being said, Regina was entirely unsure if the Barony of Starkley wasn’t cursed.

First there had been Mr. Robert Starkley, the original baron in waiting under contract.

He had gone on holiday to Italy and never returned due to an unfortunate run in with a signora or, rather, her husband.

Then there had been his brother, Mr. Francis Starkley.

He had elected to race a phaeton on the beach and broken his neck when Regina was nineteen.

Now there was Lord Reginald Starkley, cousin to the late Misters Starkley.

He had been ‘under contract’ for at least three years now.

Regina had never met Sir Reginald Starkley, but what she’d heard hadn’t disposed her kindly towards him.

All of them were only too willing to leave her waiting while they used a down payment of her dowry to revitalize their estate and fund their adventures, but none of them would be able to break the contract without reimbursing what they had spent with compounded interest.

Which meant that at some point before she died, one of them was going to have to marry her or forfeit upwards of eighty thousand pounds.

And counting.

She was meant to be Penelope to his Odysseus, Psyche to Eros.

The devoted, chaste companion who patiently awaited his return and guarded his interests with an open loving heart.

At this point, she felt more like Clytemnestra.

The minute Lord Reginald set foot on English soil; she was tempted to strangle him in his bathwater.

She wasn’t even dreading the prospect of marriage anymore so long as it put an end to the interminable waiting.

At least then she’d have something to do, even if it was putting up with a foppish buffoon and his offspring.

She’d never be happy stuck among the nobility but at least she’d be certain she was a part of it.

At least then she’d have a sure position.

She’d been a future baroness for so long it was starting to become a joke. No one knew how to treat her, and she didn’t know how to see herself.

“How are you holding up, choti rani?” her father murmured, resting a hand on her lower back.

“I’m tired,” she replied.

“Stand up straight, he could still come,” her mother hissed, nudging her in the ribs.

“The guests stopped arriving over an hour ago, aai. If he was going to be here, he would already have come.”

“A baroness doesn’t slouch.”

“When you find one, please be kind enough to let me know. She might appreciate the guidance.” Regina replied, earning her a glare.

Her father cleared his throat. A warning that she was on thin ice.

She glanced at her mother and noted the grip she had on her white gloved fingers, the downturn of her mouth she struggled to hide behind a mask of aloofness.

She was nervous and disappointed. Perhaps embarrassed?

Regina hooked her arm through her mother’s and gave it a small squeeze.

“I’m sorry, aai. I’m tired and it is utterly impossible to take an unpolluted breath in this room. ”

Mrs. Mason shook her head in response and patted Regina’s hand gently, the only signal that she was forgiven.

Her mother rarely smiled in London and never smiled when they left the house.

The ton had never been kind to her, and Regina knew it had been precisely that treatment which drove every action her mother took when it came to her and her little sister Lillian.

No one knew it better than Regina. She’d been subjected to the same behavior.

“Gigi!”

Regina looked up to see Elodia approaching her with a broad grin.

Her father, the Viscount Melbroke, was just behind her, wearing his customary polite smile.

She reached out her hand to take Elodia’s and pulled her closer.

“Ellie,” she glanced at the viscount and sank into a curtsy. “Good evening, my lord.”

“Good evening to you, Miss Mason,” he turned to her parents. “Mrs. Mason, Captain.”

“Good evening, Lord Melbroke,” her father said. “Have you been here long?”

“About an hour. We only just got to this side of the room.”

“Mr. Mason, may I steal Gigi for a turn about the room?” Ellie asked, hooking her arm through Regina’s.

“Why?” Mrs. Mason asked. There was no teasing in her face or her voice.

“I haven’t been able to speak to her for some time. I promise to bring her right back.”

“Five minutes,” she conceded, her dark eyes narrowing.

Elodia blinked at her twice before looking to Regina for help. Five minutes was hardly enough time for anything.

“Aai, it will take that long to go two steps in a room this crowded.”

“Your point?” She stared Regina down, daring her to push the point.

Captain Mason laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder, bent low and murmured in her ear.

Elodia and Regina watched expectantly as she huffed in annoyance, pursed her mouth against a torrent of objections, and finally, blessedly, let out a sigh, closing her eyes.

Regina glanced at the viscount who was staring pointedly at the ground with his eyebrows raised.

Was he amused by her mother’s clear distrust for anyone who wasn’t Captain Mason?

It was true that her mother hadn’t fully forgiven Regina for taking off with Ada and Elodia last summer to Gretna Green. She still inexplicably blamed Elodia more harshly than Ada or even Regina for that debacle despite Regina’s assurances that it had in fact been as much her idea to go.

Mrs. Mason’s dark eyes opened once more and fixed on Regina. “You come right back.”

“Yes, aai.”

“She’s not dancing,” she snapped out to Elodia who nodded fanatically.

“Understood.” She slipped her arm around Regina’s waist and drew her away along the wall of spectators towards the refreshments area. “Your mother is so terrifying.”

“Yes, she is.”

“What on earth did your father say to her?”

“I have no idea.” It was the truth. Her father was a consummate diplomat handling them all deftly with minimum force. Her mother shouted at times and snapped, but Regina couldn’t remember having ever heard her father raise his voice in her life.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, how have you been?”

“Well enough. We only just returned from Kent a month ago.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

Regina shook her head. Elodia and Ada had apologized profusely for landing her in hot water with her parents, as if they had dragged her kicking and screaming into the entire enterprise. “It was in the service of a friend, and I daresay the mission was a successful one.”

“That is my thinking as well.”

“How have you been?”

Elodia shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. I’ve missed you dreadfully. I haven’t been on my own in years and I find I have no taste for it.”

“Have you not been able to attend assemblies?”

“No, I have. But my experience of them is not exactly favorable without you or Ada there.”

“At least they don’t stare and point fingers and whisper about you.”

“Well, they don’t point fingers at least,” Elodia replied with a scoff. “In any event, my papa has agreed to help us.”

“Us?”

“Yes. He is currently inviting you and your parents to enjoy our box at the theatre when we attend next week.”

“Is he really?” Regina’s eyes widened in shock. The viscount had always been cordial, but he’d never taken such explicit action to befriend her parents before this.

“It’s the perfect plan I thought. I cannot withstand another season without your company, and your mother is anxious about your reputation and surely being seen as an open acquaintance of the Viscount Melbroke cannot be a bad thing.”

“Of course it cannot! Ellie, you are a genius!”