Page 66 of One Perfect Dance
She took a deep shuddering breath and let it out, forcing a smile. “I shall be off, then. She paused, with her hand on the door. “And Regina? Your buttons are mismatched.”
With that, she left.
Regina looked down. Sure enough, she had a loop of bodice with a spare button on one side at breast level, which meant she must have an extra buttonhole at her throat. She undid them all again and turned back to Elijah.
“Now. Where were we?”
His eyes lit up and he opened his arms.
*
“Your mother isbeing rather magnificent,” Cordelia commented.
Regina, who had been daydreaming rather than listen to her friends, replied, “Mmm?”
Margaret laughed. “You are talking to the wind, Cordelia. Regina is far away.”
“The lady is entitled to be lost in thought when she is newly betrothed,” Arial insisted. “The question is whether it is memories or dreams that keep her so absorbed.”
Regina felt her face heat. It was both. Memories of the evening before, of the kisses and caresses—the heat, the pleasure, the closeness, the sense of something more, just out of reach. Dreams of the something more. When Ash had recovered. When they were wed and could spend private time together without scandalizing her son and the servants.
“She has left us again,” Cordelia observed. Then, sharply, “Not there!”
That snapped Regina back into the present. Cordelia had already excused herself and was crossing the ballroom to correct a group of workmen on the placement of an ornamental arch.
Regina was meant to be supervising the decoration, with the help of her friends. “I am sorry,” she told them. “I am a little distracted.”
“As long as you are happily distracted,” Cordelia said, rejoining them. “Your betrothal is much better news than this latest nonsense about Deffew.”
“It is a real betrothal, is it not?” Margaret asked. “Not just a strategy because of Deffew’s lies?”
“You may take her blush and her smile as your answer,” Arial said. “Let alone the fact they have been smelling of April and May for weeks. No, darling, don’t go away again. We want to know what really happened the night before last, and how we can help.”
Cordelia cast a general’s eye over the busy ballroom. “We can leave this for thirty minutes. Let us take tea in my little sitting room.”
The tea tray was waiting; the urn bubbled over a spirit lamp. While Cordelia unlocked the tea caddy and measured out the leaves, Regina briefly summed up what had happened.
They listened with rapt attention and the occasional startled comment.
*
“And that iswhen Mr. Ashby was hurt.” Regina concluded her story.
“How is he, Regina? Is it bad?” Arial asked.
“It is an old injury,” Regina explained. “The doctor says nothing is broken, but the bones did not knit properly many years ago, so a blow in the same place causes more bruising than might otherwise be expected. Elijah is certain he will be up and around again in a few days, but the doctor said at least a week. He is staying at my place until he is well.”
“And there goes another blush,” Arial said.
“Your mother wants us to spend the afternoon telling everyone we meet that you and Mr. Ashby were at the apartment building to rescue Geoffrey, which we will do,” Cordelia informed Regina. “It is nice to know that it is no more than the truth.”
“We shall, of course, deny Mr. Deffew had any part in your adventures that evening,” Arial added. She put on a kind of cooing purr to say, “No, indeed, Lady Whatever, Mrs. Paddimore did not go to that address to see Mr. Deffew, and nor did Mr. Ashby. They are betrothed, you know. Childhood sweethearts. So wonderful to see a love match. No, Mr. Deffew was the last thing on their minds, I imagine. I happen to know that Mrs. Paddimore has refused him several times.”
“All perfectly true,” said Margaret, approvingly.
Cordelia sipped her tea, smiling broadly. “Meanwhile, Lord Arthur and your brother William will be doing the rounds of the gentlemen’s clubs with my husband and Arial’s, wondering how Mr. Deffew came to be naked and tied to a bed in another gentleman’s apartment. Your mother,” she added, “is a masterly strategist.”
“Well, ladies,” Arial said, putting down her cup, “Shall we check progress in the ballroom?”
