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Captain Mason watched his wife leave with a small smile before turning his attention back to Leo. “Believe it or not, that was a good sign.”

In time he would understand how her mind worked. Until then, he would err on the side of caution.

“Where is Miss Mason?” his mother asked with a bright smile. “I have heard such a glowing report of her I am eager to make her acquaintance.”

“Ah she will be in the garden now,” Captain Mason replied, but his eyes were on Leo.

“Oh,” Leo’s hands curled into the couch cushion, his eyes flicking to the door. How long should he wait before excusing himself?

“Go, boy,” his mother grumbled, shaking her head in annoyance.

“Excuse me,” He rose to his feet and walked out into the corridor until he was out of sight then he started jogging.

There was a brief moment where he wondered how on earth he would be able to find her considering he had never been to this estate before.

But then he saw the open french doors opening out onto a verdant landscape and his Regina dancing in the grass surrounded by flowers.

It was a scene that could have been out of any Indian folk tale.

A beautiful maiden moving with grace and power in a garden fragrant with lilies and jasmine, her skin glistening in the golden light of the evening and her lush curves wrapped in a simple, white muslin saree.

Her long dark curls woven in a braid now loosened from her exertions, her only adornment the joy in her eyes and the satisfaction on her face.

She danced to a rhythm only she could hear, the skill and discipline belayed by the seemingly effortless flow from one movement to another.

He’d never seen her dance before, couldn’t imagine what it would look like.

Her movements weren’t as polished as the courtesans he’d witnessed in Bombay, who had studied the art for most of their lives, but there was a charm to the intensity with which Regina moved, as if she was using the exercise to work through some emotion.

He almost left her there. Somehow it didn’t seem like the sort of thing he should have been witnessing.

As beautiful as she was and as fascinating as it was to watch her dance he couldn’t help but feel as though he was intruding on something private.

Something that only meant for her and no one else.

There were so few things she she’d been allowed to have for herself so far, and in the years to come there would be less.

Even their marriage, as happy as it would make both of them, served a dual purpose.

Perhaps he should leave her to her dancing and allow her the privacy she was clearly seeking.

Entranced as he was, he didn’t realize she had caught sight of him until she stopped moving.

He almost regretted allowing himself to be seen.

She was a sight to behold when she abandoned herself to her dance.

Then a smile to rival the setting sun spread across her face, setting his heart thumping and she was running towards him, hair flying, and one arm flung out towards him in anticipation of embracing him.

One moment more and she was in his arms, warm from the sun and slightly damp with sweat, embracing him tightly.

His baroness. He tightened his hold on her and picked her up, spinning her in a dizzying exuberant circle.

Her laughter in his ear filled his heart to bursting, and the weight of her body against him soft and strong and full of life settled something deep inside.

The fear he’d glimpsed in her eyes had left him unmoored and Harrison’s threats had rubbed him raw even though he hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone.

But he was here now, his face buried in her hair, and his heart was racing in time with hers.

He squeezed her waist tighter because he could, and she drew her head back, took his face in her hands and kissed him in that open, earnest and almost reckless way she had.

He could taste spices and ginger on her tongue, and sighed into her mouth as tears stung his eyes unexpectedly.

She felt like home. All his life he’d wanted a place to belong, and he’d found it in her arms.

“Who is that?” a small voice asked, and he turned his head to see a doll of a little girl watching him with interest and a level of suspicion inversely correlated with her age.

*

Penwood Hall, Staffordshire

Regina couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from her chest at Lillian’s expression.

She had been so caught up in the sight of Leo standing in her parents’ garden that she’d forgotten every ounce of propriety which dictated she walk not run and certainly not kiss her fiancé in full sight of God and man.

In that moment she hadn’t cared, but not watching her little sister she wondered if perhaps she should have exercised a little more caution in her response.

Leo however had little compunction about interacting with her sister.

He shifted to face Lillian, his arms falling away from Regina’s waist.

“Am I correct in guessing that you are Miss Lillian Mason, the second young mistress of this fine estate?”

“You are.”

“Apologies for not greeting you earlier Miss Lillian. My name is Leopold Kingston, I am your sister’s fiancé.”

Her dark eyes went wide and she shifted them to Regina. “He is your baron?” she whispered loudly.

“I am indeed, Miss Mason. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He gave her a deep bow which was entirely ridiculous considering her age and social status compared to his own but accompanied by her sister’s less than confidant curtsy, it struck Regina as adorable.

“I am pleased to meet you my lord,” she replied before glancing at Regina for confirmation. She heard the unspoken question. Is he the nice one? She smiled and nodded.

“Ah Leo,” Regina looked up to see a statuesque woman with the same burnished skin as Leo, approach them. Her strong build was robed in forest green velvet and her hair was wrapped in a patterned silk turban.

“Mother.” He shifted and held out his hand to her as she drew closer. She took his hand, but her dark brown eyes were fixed on Regina. “This is Miss Mason, my betrothed.”

Then he spoke to her. “Regina, this is Naomi Kingston, my mother.”

Regina began to sink into a curtsy, but those slender dark fingers cradled her chin, lifting her face to the light, those dark eyes drifted over her face with steady perusal.

It occurred to Regina that if she was going to meet Leo’s mother she would have preferred to be dressed for dinner, instead of sweaty and disheveled.

But then she smiled, in that slow deliberate way that Leo often did and nodded before saying one word.

“Beautiful.”

*

Naomi Kingston was a terrifying woman, but she was also one of the warmest people Regina had ever met.

She had no idea what Leo’s father was like or how much he favored him but what she knew for a fact was the calm and regality of the mother had been distilled in the son.

Both of them had the uncanny ability to remain utterly still while they took in every detail of stimuli in the room.

From the moment she had declared Regina ‘beautiful’, Naomi, as she insisted on being called, was never far from her, listening attentively whenever she spoke or encouraging her to voice her opinion.

Regina had thrown on her blue dress that she’d worn to the theatre for dinner and added more curls around her face.

She even dabbed a few drops of her lotus perfume to her neck.

Now that she was to marry Leo, she wanted to be at her most beautiful.

His slack jawed expression when she came down the stairs was all the validation she’d needed.

After dinner, while the rest of the party had moved to the sitting room, Regina took a moment to make chai the way her mother had taught her with spices and tea leaves from Ceylon, boiled first in water then milk and sweetened with honey.

Leo’s eyes had lit up when the aroma reached his nostrils as she served the steaming beverage to them all.

It was interesting the little things Regina was learning about him.

He had always been sure to avoid tea, even at tea parties, but the minute he saw a steaming cup of masala chai, he couldn’t take the gilded glass cup fast enough.

Naomi had hummed in appreciation at her first sip, closing her eyes to breathe in the aroma before declaring she’d never be able to drink English tea again.

Now, she sat beside Naomi, arm hooked with hers listening attentively to her mother while she discussed posting the bans.

In a way Regina was grateful for her future mother-in-law’s attention.

It kept Regina from staring at Leo for too long.

It was always difficult to look away from him but tonight, dressed as he was for dinner, his broad muscled shoulders highlighted in a deep blue jacket and a bronze brocade waistcoat pulling every shade of light brown from his eyes she was more distracted than usual.

Every time he caught her gaze his soft mouth curved slightly as if he knew where her thoughts were straying.

“Regina,” her mother said, and she met her eyes.

“Yes aai.”

“I was asking if you had a wedding date in mind.”

“Not one in particular.” The sooner the better. The only wedding she was interested in was the kind that made her his wife.

“Well that is good, the betrothal need not be too long I think,” Naomi said.

“Agreed,” Leo said, giving her a wink.

“Two or three months should do it.” Her mother said and Regina felt all the blood in her veins go cold.

Two or three bloody months? “What?” she asked.

“A two-month betrothal period.”

“Why must we wait two months?” she asked.

“It is hardly an unusual amount of time,” Naomi replied.

“I’ve been engaged to him in one way or another for over five years.” Panic was clawing at her throat. Two months?