Page 15 of One Perfect Dance
“Much the same, sir. The doctor is still with him.”
“I will go to him,” Mama announced, and Regina was about to follow when Mr. Paddimore put a hand on her arm. “Run upstairs and change, Miss Kingsley,” he advised. “If he awakens and sees you so disheveled…”
Regina almost dropped her mother’s shawl at the reminder. She had forgotten how she must look, and when she got up to her bedchamber and was able to see herself in the mirror, she realized it was even worse than she’d thought.
Her maid entered the room and gasped. “Miss! What happened to you!” There was no chance that she would keep Regina’s state to herself. It would be all around the house in ten minutes, and across London with the breakfast cups.
Regina sighed. If the servants didn’t gossip, theTonwould. “I was attacked, but that doesn’t matter now. Find me something I can get into quickly and help me tidy my hair so I can go and sit with my father.”
Papa was nearly as white as his sheets and was so still Regina thought he had died until she saw his chest rise and fall. She waited, holding her breath. It seemed a very long time until the next rise and fall. Mama was sitting at his bedside, holding his hand. Like Regina, she had taken the time to change into undress and have her hair taken down from its ornate style.
Mr. Paddimore was in the corner with the doctor. They were speaking in undertones, with frequent glances towards the bed.
Regina took the chair on the other side of her father.
Her mother’s lips were moving. Was she praying? It was a good idea. Regina tried to pray, too, but all she could think was,please, God. Please, God.
Mr. Paddimore and the doctor parted. The doctor walked to the door, and Mr. Paddimore came over to the bed. “Lady Kingsley, the doctor would like to have a word with you.” He put out a hand to help her rise, but she ignored him and stood up on her own. “Would you like me to come with you?” he asked.
Mama treated him to a scathing glance—a comprehensive rejection, and all without a word.
She left the bedroom with the doctor, and Mr. Paddimore took the seat she had been using, and fixed bleak eyes on his friend’s face.
“What did he say?” Regina asked.
He seemed to come from a very long way away, needing to refocus his eyes so they could see her. “I had better let your mother tell you,” he said. “Regina, about Deffew. You will not be made to marry him,” he promised. “Your father wouldn’t hear of it.”
Regina took another look at the still figure in the bed and caught back her fear that her father would not be alive to stop it.
Mr. Paddimore must have read her face. “Regina, if your father is too unwell to protect you, he has declared me your guardian and trustee of your wealth. I promise you, neither Lord Kingsley nor I will give our consent to a match with Deffew.”
“How dare you, Gideon!” The shocked and angry words came from the doorway, where Mama stood, her fists clenched. “The girl has been ruined, I tell you. Marriage to Deffew is her only chance of marriage. Do you hate me so much you would destroy Regina to get your revenge?”
“I will not discuss this in front of Geoffrey and Regina,” Mr. Paddimore said. “Pull yourself together, Elizabeth. We can argue tomorrow, and in another room. At the moment, your husband needs you and so does your daughter.”
Mama opened her mouth and then closed it again, clearly having second thoughts about whatever had sprung to her lips.
“You have not eaten,” Mr. Paddimore said. “I will order something light. Elizabeth, Regina asked me what the doctor said. I told her she should ask you.”
Mama stepped to one side to allow Mr. Paddimore to leave the room, suddenly looking much older. She sank into her chair and took up her husband’s hand again. “I am sorry, Regina. The doctor says his heart is struggling. He is unlikely to survive more than a few days, and if he does, another attack like this one could carry him off at any time.”
“Mama!” Regina protested.
Mama sighed deeply. “It is best you know the truth without the bark on it. Your Papa will not be there to lend his protection against the consequences of today’s mischief, and Gideon, for all he thinks so much of himself, does not have any influence on theTon.” She shook her head.
“I expect that Deffew will make a poor husband, but at least your money will mean you will not have to live with his horrid father, and soon enough you will have children to console you. If Lady Beddlesnirt and that nasty creature Miss Wharton had not seen—but it is of no use to repine. Your choice is between Deffew and ruin. You will live the rest of your life in the country as a spinster. And, if you choose ruin, you take me and your brother William down with you. Think of that while you are deciding what suits yourself.”
Regina sat back in her chair, stunned that her mother would promote this heinous marriage over the body of her dying father. The room remained silent until Mr. Paddimore returned, carrying another chair, and leading a short procession of maids with food and drink.
Chapter Seven
Paris
Ash wrestled withguilt. He had it all. Amazing accommodation. Gourmet food. A high-fashion wardrobe. Servants to do the cleaning and cooking and all the hard physical labor. Access to libraries, museums, entertainments, even a mistress. And on top of that, a quarterly salary that gave him more money than he had ever seen in his life.
And all Rex asked in return was for Ash to manage every aspect of Rex’s correspondence. Answering invitations and requests for donations. Replying to letters and notes. Even personal letters from his mother. Ash was required to read everything to Rex, and then write the answer that Rex dictated—or, more often, outlined, for Ash to fill in and make courteous.
Ash wondered why. Certainly, secretaries expected to deal with business matters and importunate beggars. But wouldn’t it be easier for Rex to read his personal correspondence? Wouldn’t any normal person write to their own mother?
