Four hours later, Regan was rather pleased with her efforts. A visit to one of the local milliners yielded half a dozen caps, three straw hats, and four bonnets. She found parasols and reticules in Widegate Street, shoes and dancing slippers in Lower Holborn, and hosiery and gloves in Birmingham. The delightful French dressmaker in Upper King Street assured Regan that the seven dresses she had ordered would be ready in a week.
While her groom and coachman tied down her purchases, Regan perused the nearby bookseller that also ran a circulating library. She hoped to find a romantic tale or two that might lift her flagging spirits. Throughout the entire afternoon, it had been very difficult not to imagine Dare and Lady Pashley together. Had there been a family crisis, or was that merely an excuse to conduct their secret tryst?
The afternoon Regan had joined Dare at his family’s town house, he had seemed reluctant to engage his sister-in-law even on the most civil level. Later, he had warned Regan to stay away from the marchioness.
Perhaps his animosity toward Lady Pashley had been feigned. After all, the lady was married to his older brother. Discretion, patience, and cunning were crucial when conducting an illicit affair. Regan knew personally that Dare was extremely resourceful when properly motivated.
Was that why Dare had been looking for a mistress this season?
With another lady in his bed, no one would suspect that Dare and his precious Allegra were still lovers. “Ugh,” Regan muttered under her breath. What had she ever seen in such a scoundrel?
Disgusted with the entire affair, Regan paid for her books and exited the bookseller’s shop. She nodded to a gentleman who tipped his hat to her and allowed her to cross in front of him onto the sidewalk. In the late afternoon, the streets were heavily congested with pedestrians, costers peddling their wares in wheelbarrows, barrel-laden wagons, gentlemen on horseback, and fashionable coaches.
Regan tried to stop to get her bearings, but the steady flow of pedestrians moving in both directions could not be stemmed. She clutched her books to her breast and continued forward, her gaze sweeping the street for her coach. Was the coachman obliged to drive on? she wondered, ignoring the tiny frisson of panic in her spine.
She moved to the outer edge of the sidewalk and peered ahead. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she recognized the Chillingsworth crest. The coachman saw her and waved.
As Regan shifted the books in her arms so she could return the man’s wave, something struck her in the back and she went flying into the busy street.
The air was filled with masculine exclamations, curses, and ladies’ cries of dismay as she landed inelegantly face-first into the filthy street. Regan grimaced, then used her palms to push herself onto her hands and knees and glanced behind her. All she saw was a sea of concerned faces. Who the devil had shoved her? Belatedly she recalled her books. They were scattered several feet in front of her. She reached for the closest one, but hastily snatched her hand back as horses and the wheels of a coal cart trampled over it. The bearded driver of the cart scolded her as he drove past. Another carriage severed the spine of another book. Regan shivered and scrambled backward toward the sidewalk.
An unfamiliar gentleman grabbed her upper arm and helped Regan to her feet. “That was quite a tumble that you took, miss,” he said, escorting her back to the sidewalk. “Are you hurt?”
Regan shook her head.
While Regan assured several bystanders that she was fine, another helpful gentleman rescued her books and the shoe that she had not been aware that she had lost. As she slipped her foot into the shoe, she glanced down at the front of her dress and groaned. Oh, her beautiful walking dress was ruined!
Her brother’s large coachman swaggered up to her, using his hands and size to make a path to his mistress. “Are ye injured, milady? I saw the whole thing from my perch and have never felt so helpless in my life.” He tucked her books under one arm and led Regan back to the waiting coach.
The fresh-faced groom accepted the books from the coachman, giving Regan a worried look. “Are ye really all right, milady?”
“I am fine,” she assured the boy, though she was not certain that she was telling the truth. Hesitantly she asked, “Did either one of you see the person who pushed me?”
The groom and the coachman exchanged a long glance.
“Are ye telling us that some ruffian shoved you into the street?” the coachman said, his caterpillar eyebrows coming together. “Pardon me for saying so, but yer brother won’t be liking this. No, not at all.”
“Then perhaps we should not tell him,” she said, but the coachman had already shut the door in her face.
* * *
It was seven o’clock when Dare entered Nox. He was tired and hungry, and would have paid a small fortune for a glass of brandy. Upstairs, as Dare entered the large private room, he noticed that Vane, Saint, and Hunter were seated, their bodies vibrating with unreleased tension.
“What has happened?”
Dare belatedly noticed Frost leaning against the billiards table. He had not spoken to his friend since his departure. It explained why the others were so grim-faced. They probably thought he and Frost would come to blows over Regan.
“Good evening, Frost.” Dare genially inclined his head. “I trust you haven’t come to put a bullet in my head?”
The corners of Frost’s mouth curved upward. “And risk putting a hole in my fine coat? It seems a shame to ruin my tailor’s efforts. Besides, the gents have been telling me that you have a few acquaintances who do not like you very much.”
“Did you hire them?”
Dare tensed when Frost shifted his stance and crossed his arms.
“What do you believe?”
Dare slowly exhaled. “I believe, if you truly wanted a man dead, Frost, your face would be the last thing he sees.”
Frost snorted softly, and then his head tipped back as silent laughter shook his body. “A damn scary fellow, I am. A man would have to be touched in the head or in love to annoy me, would you not agree?”
Dare glanced down at his black boots and remained silent.
“You may not have been the gentleman those ruffians were after,” Vane said, the first willing to break the resounding silence in the room.
“How do you know?”
Hunter stirred and gave Frost a wary look. “There was another attack this afternoon.”
Dare immediately thought of Sin and Reign. Both gentlemen had families to look after and protect. “Who?” The hairs prickled on the nape of his neck when Frost walked over and placed his hand on Dare’s shoulder.
The earl’s turquoise-blue eyes cut Dare to the quick with a single glance. “My sister.”
* * *
Across town, Regan was sitting in Lady Karmack’s drawing room. The viscountess had invited a few of her closest friends for an evening of intelligent conversation and musical appreciation. Regan counted close to sixty guests in attendance.
Thea leaned over and whispered, “Not the crush that Lord and Lady Trussell’s ball was, but I commend Mama on her guest list.” Her cousin looked incredibly lovely in a pink dress with an antique scalloped lace flounce at the hem. The Karmack diamonds glittered from Thea’s ears and neck.
“I daresay the gentlemen outnumber the ladies,” Regan murmured back. “Not counting your father, I do not see a single gentleman older than the age of forty in this house.”
Although it might not have been apparent to the other guests, Lady Karmack had created her own version of Tattersall’s. Instead of horses, she offered her female guests some of the ton’s most eligible bachelors from the wealthiest families to admire.
“Oh, look, could Mama be any more obvious.” Thea gestured toward their friend. Nina sent them a pleading glance as Lady Karmack presented yet another nobleman for the young woman’s inspection. “If we do not stop her, Mama will be inviting Nina to check the gentleman’s teeth.”
Regan snapped open her fan and used it to conceal her mirth. “Or to see if his feet
have been adequately shod.”
Both women collapsed in giggles, earning a warning glance from the viscountess.
“Oh, we must stop. Else, Mama, will seat me next to Lord Charlton at supper.”
Regan frowned, unfamiliar with the gentleman. “Why would that be so bad?”
“You would not be asking if you had had the pleasure of his acquaintance. One of Lord Charlton’s favorite tricks is to spit liquids through his broken front tooth.”
“You jest!”
“No, I am completely serious!” Thea stood and extended her gloved hand to Regan. “And you will be, too, unless you want Mama to seat you next to him. Now come, let us rescue poor Nina.”
* * *
“How could you have allowed Regan to go out for the evening?” Dare demanded as they traveled in Frost’s coach to Lord and Lady Karmack’s town house. He was still furious at his friend’s carelessness with Regan.
If Dare had been there, he would have locked Regan in her bedchamber and stood guard outside her door. Better yet, he would have joined her in the locked room and made love to her until they both collapsed, sated and exhausted.
Dare could sense that his friend was amused by the question.
“You should know better than most that my sister is headstrong and does whatever suits her,” Frost said with a hint of unfathomable pride in his voice. “I might have reconsidered if I had learned of the attack on you. However, no one saw fit to tell me of the incident.”
“My apologies, Frost. I was in no condition to pay you a visit,” Dare said drily. Or pick up a quill pen for that matter. “I suppose Vane, Saint, and Hunter thought they were protecting me—”
“So all of you did wonder if I had a hand in that bit of mischief,” he mused aloud, though he did not sound upset about the unspoken accusation.
“The suggestion was raised and swiftly discarded,” Dare replied. “I did not summon you because of—” He searched for the proper words. “—this awkward business with Regan. I have ruined our friendship and I am sorry for it.”
Frost did not respond immediately. When he did, he said, “I have a feeling that you, Regan, and I will muddle through this ‘awkward business,’ as you call it, and our friendship will be put to rights again.”
Dare silently marveled at his friend’s optimistic outlook. Until Berus had told him that Regan had come to Nox and asked to see him, Dare had assumed that Regan despised him. “What are you not telling me?”
“Do not fret, my friend,” Frost said easily, his eyes gleaming in the shadowed interior of the coach. “I have no intention of forcing you to marry my sister.”
The coach slowed as it reached their destination.
Wary, Dare asked, “What of Regan?”
Frost shrugged. “She has come to the conclusion that you would make a dreadful husband.”
For some reason, her conclusion annoyed him.
The door to the coach opened. “This is your stop,” his friend said congenially.
“Are you not joining me?” His instincts were warning Dare that Frost was up to something. He disembarked from the coach and turned around to glare at his friend.
Frost leaned forward. “I told you earlier that I have other plans. Once you are satisfied that Regan is safe at the Karmacks’, then you may see to your own pleasures.”
* * *
Gaining entry into Lord and Lady Karmack’s residence without an invitation was simple enough. According to the butler, if a gentleman was in his prime, unmarried, and possessed a respectable fortune, he was more than welcome to join the gathering.
It was not until he entered the drawing room that Dare realized how unbalanced the Karmacks’ supper table would be. Apparently the viscountess had gone to great lengths to improve her youngest daughter’s marriage prospects.
Dare’s blue-gray gaze narrowed as he saw Regan standing near the pianoforte with six admirers surrounding her.
Lady Karmack was parading London’s blooded stock in front of Regan as well.
Dare’s breath came out in short puffs. Frost knew precisely what Lady Karmack was planning, and he must have heartily approved. Now he understood why Frost was confident that their friendship would recover. Any discord between them would end once Regan married.
Frost was correct. There was nothing to worry about. Regan was safe at the Karmacks’.
Dare turned to leave, but his knees locked at the sound of Regan’s distinctive laughter.
The hell she was.
Dare rolled back his shoulders. He snapped his head to the right and the bones in his neck crackled. Then with grim determination in his gaze, he marched toward Regan and her admirers.
Chapter Twenty-five
“Good evening, Lady Regan … gentlemen.”
Regan returned Dare’s greeting with a curtsy, speechless that he was attending Lady Karmack’s little gathering. Before she could form a proper response in front of their audience, Dare took matters into his own hands.
“Lady Regan, if I may, I need to speak with you privately. I have a message from your brother,” he said, taking her firmly by the elbow.
“You have spoken to Frost?”
“See here, Mordare,” a slender blond gentleman protested. “You cannot just drag off the lady whenever it suits you.”
“It’s Bailey, is it not?” Dare said silkily, causing the gentleman to take a step out of striking range. “Do not interfere. This is family business.”
“Family business,” she muttered. “Do you not have enough of your own to keep you occupied?”
Dare escorted her upstairs until they reached the family’s private quarters. He gently nudged her into the nearest bedchamber.
“We cannot go in here,” she weakly protested. “It is unseemly.”
And she was still vexed with him.
“I will not detain you for long.”
She gasped at Dare’s embrace. It was the last thing she had expected after their parting. Regan buried her nose against his coat and inhaled. His unique masculine scent had always felt like home to her.
Dare pulled back and touched her face. “Frost told me what happened while you were out shopping. Are you hurt?”
So his strong sense of duty had lured him back to her side. Regan stifled her sigh as she shook her head. “My limbs have stiffened in the passing hours since the incident, and I have a few bruises. Otherwise, I am fine.”
“Are you certain someone pushed you?”
The urgency in his voice surprised her. “Someone struck me from behind. I know you do not believe me—”
“I do.” His chin dropped to his chest as he seemed to struggle to offer her some kind of explanation. “I want you to be more vigilant in your outings. Take a groom with you, and always keep your friends close to you.”
Concerned, she unthinkingly reached for his arm. “Dare, what is it?”
Dare scrubbed his face with his hand. “It could be nothing. A coincidence, nothing more,” he said, unwilling to explain further. “This town is full of dangers, and, of late, there has been too much violence.”
Regan thought of Mrs. Randall, and then of the strong anonymous hands that had shoved her into the busy street.
“Dare, why have you come?” she said, her eyes clear and steady as she committed his face to memory. “Tell me the truth; Frost did not send you.”
His mouth tightened at her soft accusation. “Frost is aware that I needed to see for myself that you were unharmed.”
She stepped back and opened her arms. “As you can see, I have recovered from my ordeal. Although your concern is appreciated, I do not want you to ruin your evening on my behalf.”
Dare gestured at the door. “So with Lady Karmack’s assistance, you think one of those gents downstairs will want to be your next protector?”
Regan glanced away, lifting one of her shoulders in a careless fashion. She had come to support Thea this evening, though Dare did not deserve such reassurances. Especially, since he could offer none to ease t
he pain in her heart.
“Lady Karmack frowns on the word protector. In her opinion, it does not sound very respectable. The viscountess refers to the gentlemen downstairs as potential husbands,” Regan said, taking satisfaction when she noted fury in his blue-gray eyes.
“So, like your friends, you did come to town in order to secure a husband,” he said emotionlessly.
“I came to London for you!” she said, bringing her fingers to her lips. “I was willing to settle for a relationship on your terms … your rules. God, I was such a fool, because now I understand that you will always let her stand between us.”
From Dare’s expression, he knew that she was referring to Lady Pashley. “Regan.”
She held up her hand. “Do not touch me. I do not want to be appeased. I want—I want—”
“What?” He walked up to her extended palm. “What do you want, Regan?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and then blinked the tears away. “I want you to escort me back to Lady Karmack’s drawing room.”
Regan brought her chin up and silently goaded him to give her a counteroffer.
They stared at each other in silence.
Finally Dare said, “I have kept you from the drawing room too long, and I have business to attend to. With your permission, I will escort you back to your new friends.”
* * *
Without his private coach, Dare had to use a hackney coach to drive him to several of his father’s clubs. Now that he knew that Regan was unharmed and protected at the Karmacks’, he could continue his search for his father and brother. Charles, in many ways, had always been unpredictable, but his father had become conventional as he aged.
Dare located the duke on his third stop.
He was not a member of this staid, respectable club. Not anymore. When he was seventeen, Dare and the other members of the Lords of Vice had been kicked out for some outrageous prank the seven of them had concocted one night when they had been too foxed to consider the outcome of their actions. Their families could not stave off the inevitable outcome; nor had Dare and his friends cared.
After Dark with a Scoundrel Page 17
