Escape

By Pattie Lawler

 

Regina breathed the frigid evening air with relief as she escaped the sweltering press of the ballroom. Closing the French doors on the music and the hum of conversation, she moved clear of the embrace of the manor and crossed to the marble banister that framed the veranda.

The late winter chill rippled a shiver up her spine and wicked the warmth from her gloved hands as she laid them on the rail. The change was so welcome that while she was tempted to moan, she contented herself with a sigh. Her pleasure continued unabated as she gazed into the garden below. Large, flaming urns were set at intervals beside a wide, white gravel path that meander toward a dark grove.

"It is not unlike the night sky," she murmured, smiling at the image in her mind. "Stars, Milky Way and the moon is the manor."

"A very pretty simile."

With a gasp, she whirled to find herself facing an unknown gentleman. Lounging against the wall beside the door, he was smiling as he pushed himself up.

"Forgive me, please. I didn't mean to startled you."

Recovering slightly, she managed to nod.

"You have discovered my flight," he went on, gesturing to the building they had both abandoned. "Private balls are a misnomer, are they not?"

Her wits were recovered with his jest and she laughed at him. "They are indeed, sir."

Moving closer, he took up a position beside her, turned, and leaned on the rail, looking up at the manor. "I find the solitude of a veranda, no matter the temperature, a welcome respite..."

She saw his gaze flick to her face and back.

"...though being discovered holds its own appeal. It makes me think that you and I, though unknown to one another, have something in common."

"And what would that be, sir?" she whispered, her lips twitching with a blossoming smile.

This time he did look at her, though he did not turn his head. "Neither you nor I suffer fools gladly and seek solace in seclusion when the world is too much."

"You do not suppose," Regina replied, making no attempt to disguise her mirth, "I could simply be hiding from the unwanted attentions of some strange man? The same stranger that my elderly guardian has brought me here to meet for the express purpose of marrying me off and saving himself my expenses? Or that perhaps I am not on the guest list at all and am here for my own nefarious purposes."

"Which are?"

"Do not call me out, sir," she chuckled, turning back to the garden. "My wit may not be as lively as yours, and though the occupation of cut purse leaps to mind, I am not sure how long I could maintain the pretense."

"Cut purse?" he mused, his tone suggesting astonishment. "An admirable calling in a venue such as this."

A door opened, drawing their attentions and allowing the strains of a waltz to take wing, before snapping closed with a definite click.

"Hmm," he murmured. "I have yet to be locked from a house."

Regina chuckled again, envisioning the scene.

He looked up then, pleased, it appeared, at her amusement. "Do you waltz, Lady Cut Purse?"

Regina shook her head. "No, sir. I have made my application but as yet—"

"Excellent!" He leaned forward, grabbed her wrist and stepped toward her.

"But...I said, sir!"

"Shh," he whispered as he set their form. "Close your eyes and imagine the music or I shall be forced to sing and I assure you, the resulting pain will be acute."

"And you?"

"I shall close mine as well; the better to steer us in the dark." He pulled her forward, and in a moment Regina was circling the veranda.

His warm hands on her body were so unlike her dance master’s that she was taken aback. Powerful and strong—yet he held her as gently as if she were a downy chick, fallen from its nest. She relaxed into his knowing embrace, her eyes sinking closed as she focused on her partner and the intimate contact between them.

"I believe we have been granted our wish, if for this moment only," he murmured as they turned and made their way back across the length of the porch.

"What wish is that, sir?"

"We are enjoying a private ball, are we not?"

 

After their waltz he insisted they return to the party, pointing out the likelihood of her taking a chill. Regina thanked him for the dance and allowed him to lead her into the heat of the ballroom.

 

"Regina, my dear," Lady Winston purred as her ward drew near, "where have you been? I was beginning to despair."

Smiling serenely, Regina lowered herself onto the seat beside her aunt. "I beg your pardon, aunt, but I stepped out for a breath of air."

"Yes, you do smell of the evening. Most becoming."

"I met a man there. He was also escaping the press."

"Indeed. And his name?"

Regina's smile warmed as she leaned forward to kiss the wrinkled cheek. "I did not ask, aunt, and he did not offer. It was all too romantical."

Lady Winston returned the smile. "A charming story, my dear, but with an unhappy ending. How will you ever meet again if you do not know for whom to ask?"

"I will know him, Aunt Lydia, of that you can be sure."

 

"We are meeting the Chestertons before the play, and I dare say the Ryans will be there as well. They always are. Do make sure, Regina darling, that you mind Lady Ryan. You were unkind last week, or so she reports, and I will not have anything said by her, of you, that is not a compliment."

"Of course, Aunt Lydia. I am sorry to have distressed you."

"You did nothing, I am sure. Lady Ryan speaks to hear herself talk, and few listen, but should someone make it their business..." she looked at her niece in a meaningful way.

"Of course, Aunt Lydia," Regina said with a broad smile.

"You’re a good girl, Regina. I will be very sorry for myself when you marry. Whom shall I tease then?"

"My numerous children, of course."

"Should I live that long."

"Do not say such things, aunt. Next week we are to Bath and you will be right as rain in no time. My Uncle Andrew assures me that there is nothing more beneficial than the waters."

"My brother has never had a sick day in his life."

"And I beg you follow his example. Come, I’ll call James to carry to you the carriage."

 

 

Intermission was drawing to an end when Regina saw him.

He was seated across the theater and down two rows. Their eyes met and she saw recognition spark. With a knowing smile he inclined his head a fraction of an inch, and Regina’s smile grew marginally wider in reply.

The second act was well under way when she excused herself. Sitting forward, she kissed her aunt’s cheek. "I don’t think I will ask his name this time either, aunt."

"What will I do with you?" Lady Winston softly chuckled.

Rising, Regina turned for the door and begged pardon of those in the box as she extricated herself. In a moment she was alone in the hall, then skipping down the stairs.

As he was mounting them.

She cleared her throat, catching his attention and halting his headlong dash.

Gathering himself, he smiled in greeting and observed as he came on, "Our escape was too obvious."

He was panting from the exertion to reach her, and Regina was gratified by his eagerness. "I’m afraid it was, sir, but that doesn’t lessen the pleasure, I assure you."

"I have been hopeful of discovering other sanctuaries for private balls and have busied myself with exploring all kinds of belvederes this past week. But with no success."

Regina’s reply was made amid suppressed laughter. "You flatter me, sir, and I thank you for the compliment. I am, however, sorry to say that owing to my guardian’s delicate health we are seldom in society. Our private ball may well be unique, if ‘rare’ be too promising."

"You cannot dissuade me, madam," he grinned, closing the distance between them. When he was two steps below her, he stopped and they were eye to eye. "Until this past week I have found little to like in a ball, but am determined to recapture the delights of a private affair."

"I cannot encourage you, sir, no matter how I might be tempted."

"Edwin?"

The feminine voice caused his smile to fade and an apologetic expression overspread his face.

"Edwin, my dear, what are you doing? Who is this?"

Regina leaned to her left and looked down at the most magnificent woman she had ever beheld. Dressed in crimson and black, the woman’s snowy skin and ebony hair seemed to glow in the sumptuous, velvet setting.

"I assure you, sir, I am perfectly able to return to my party," Regina said, raising her voice slightly. "I am sorry to have detained you for so long and thank you for coming to my rescue."

"Is something amiss?" the woman inquired as she advanced, her gaze darting between the two.

"I suffered a misstep upon the stairs," Regina explained. "This gentleman was kind enough to save me from any real harm."

"But you are well now?"

Regina smiled, nodding. "I am; I thank you. Please, think no more on the matter, and pray, excuse me."

Without waiting for a reply, Regina turned to retrace her steps to the box. Her aunt smiled in greeting as she reclaimed her seat.

"And what news from the outside world, my dear?"

"Edwin and I ventured no further than the stairs, aunt."

"Edwin? An eventful few minutes I see."

Regina chuckled and clasped the withered hand on the armrest. "No, my dear, not so eventful. A member of his party noted his absence and in calling out to him exposed more than I cared to know."

"And what of Edwin? Does he, in turn, know how to call out to you?"

Regina placed a tender kiss on the smooth skin and said no more.

 

"Will you be sorry, Regina darling, to leave all this behind?"

"No, aunt. I will be happy to see your health recover. Nothing else matters."

"Not the shops, the concerts nor even your mysterious Edwin?"

Smiling, Regina leaned forward to kiss her aunt. "Not even Edwin. Now tell me, will the Chestertons be coming with us?"

"And, doubtless, the Ryans. They always do."

Chuckling, Regina shook her head and scanned the list of books she requested be packed for the journey.

"Removing one’s household," Lady Winston murmured, watching her niece, "is always exhausting. I’m sorry I cannot be of more use to you."

"It is true," Regina agreed, nodding without looking up. "You are the greatest burden of my life, Aunt Lydia. The proverbial millstone, to be sure. Forever underfoot; making unreasonable demands; refusing all social engagements—"

"Yes, yes," the older woman laughed. "You’ve made your point."

Both ladies looked up as a butler entered, a card surmounted tray in hand. Regina slipped the card off and read it aloud.

"Lady Balston." She looked at her aunt, concern creasing her forehead. "How do you feel, darling? Shall I send our regrets?"

"No," Lady Winston replied, laying a hand upon Regina’s. She looked up at the butler. "Please show her in and ask Mrs. Kent to send us tea, if you would be so kind, Richard?"

Regina placed her list aside, tidied her work space and rose to face the door.

As the butler announced Lady Balston, he didn’t pause for breath as he included Lady Catherine Devine. Regina shot a puzzled glance at her aunt then inwardly gasped as the ravishing woman who had called to Edwin upon the stairs swept into the room.

It was clear from her expression that Lady Balston considered this introduction a coup. "Lady Winston, cousin Regina," Lady Balston breathlessly began, "I hope you are well? I have been approached by Lady Devine to make your acquaintance and wasted no time in bringing her to you. Lady Catherine Devine, may I present Lady Lydia Winston and my cousin, Miss Regina Dickson."

Regina curtsied as Lady Winston inclined her head.

"I have actually met Lady Devine," Regina said, rising. "Though we have not been introduced."

Lady Balston looked positively crestfallen.

"You remember," Lady Devine said, moving to shake Regina’s hand. "How clever you are."

"Not at all, Lady Devine. Your gown at that theater was a master work and not easily forgotten," Regina replied, her eyes wide and guileless. "Aunt Lydia," she went on, twisting to address her aunt. "You may recall I told you of how I tripped upon the stairs at the theater and that a gentleman was there to impede my fall. This gentleman was a member of Lady Devine’s party. Is that not so, Lady Devine?"

There was a momentary pause as Regina offered their guests seats upon the sofa and placed herself on the couch beside her aunt.

"And yet," Lady Devine coolly replied, sinking onto the cushions, "our box was two levels below yours and directly across the theater."

"Indeed! How uncommonly kind you are to have noted my return. I am sorry to have been the cause of concern," Regina said, nodding to Mrs. Kent as the housekeeper placed the tea service before her. "What excellent seats you must have had, do you not agree, Lady Balston? Are you fond of the theater, Lady Devine? Do you frequently request that box?"

"It is a private box," Lady Devine purred. "My fiancé, the Viscount Claremont, Lord Edwin Spencer Hodson, owns it."

"And is it he whom we must thank for coming to Regina’s aid?" Lady Winston asked, waving aside her niece’s offer of tea.

Lady Devine inclined her head. "Lord Hodson is forever the knight in shining armor."

"I should learn to better modulate my gasp of alarm," Regina murmured, handing across a cup and saucer to her new acquaintance. "It appears I can summon men from deep within the theater with my bleating. How very embarrassing."

"I’m sure you thought nothing of whom you were summoning," Lady Winston soothed. "When one is falling, such things cannot be foremost in one’s mind."

"How very right you are," Lady Balston agreed, accepting tea from her cousin. "I have often remarked upon just such a topic. It’s all rather trying; satin slippers on unfinished floors."

"Too much traffic," Regina offered, "and too little polishing."

Lady Balston hung her head, nodding, and Regina didn’t attempt to mask the fond amusement in her eyes as she smiled at her aunt. "But," she mused, helping herself to tea, "I wonder at Lord Hodson being so far from his party when my bleating commenced." She looked up at Lady Devine only to find she was under scrutiny. Without acknowledging the hard stare, she went on. "With a private box, one would assume his lordship was fond of the theater and unlikely to wander."

"It is singular," Lady Winston agreed.

"Perhaps he was going to meet someone?" Regina offered helpfully, glancing at her aunt.

"I must confess," Lady Devine murmured, "I begged an introduction from Lady Balston to ask, Miss Dickson, if you, perchance, saw anyone upon the stairs. I only ask as my father does not trust Lord Hodson’s devotion, no matter how often he proves his constancy."

Smiling, Regina looked back at her guest. "I willingly vouchsafe the he and I were alone, Lady Devine, though how my word could placate your father is beyond me."

"No, Miss Dickson," Lady Devine said with a tight smile, "it is enough that you say you were alone. There is no pleasing my father. I simply look for another chance to prove him wrong."

"Then I am happy to assist, Lady Devine."

 

 

Two weeks in Bath passed with little incident, and even less effect on Lady Winston’s declining health. Twice daily she drank the hot spring water, and every other day spent a quarter of an hour immersed in it, but showed no marked change. Regina was beside her aunt every moment, sharing the treatment and the mounting pain. Increasing doses of laudanum provided temporary relief, but more and more the couple was confined to the house. Guests were met by Regina, who gently warned them, and others, off.

But Lady Winston was not insensible to her ward and sought distraction in the almost daily parade of milliners and dressmakers. Regina’s wardrobe swelled, as she lacked the power to disappoint her aunt.

"The Cartwrights are going to the assembly tonight, my dear," Lady Winston announced one day over tea. "I asked them to collect you at half six. Now, do not argue. I can see your expression, and I know what you’re thinking, but I won’t have you holding my hand every night while we are here. Mrs. Kent will wait upon me if there is a need. Your new blue silk needs to be displayed, and what better venue? Go, my dear, go and have a good time."

"But the Cartwrights," Regina whined teasingly.

"You’re only saying that because you’ll miss the Ryans."

Regina smirked over her book, but said nothing more.

 

By ten that evening Regina was ready to be home, making sure that her aunt was comfortable. She had danced, almost continually, since the music began. Her partners had all been charming, if insipid, and while she longed for a veranda to escape to, she knew enough of Bath to know no such avenue was open to her.

"My dear Miss Dickson," Mrs. Cartwright said as Regina left her partner and sank into the seat beside her hostess. "I have been approached by Mr. King. He desires your presence for an introduction."

Torn between accepting and pleading fatigue, breeding won out as Regina dutifully rose and made for the lobby.

The Master of Ceremonies, as gracious as ever, hurried to her side and gestured to his office. "Miss Dickson, how good you are. His lordship has been waiting the greater part of this hour for a chance to approach you," he gushed, opening the door.

Edwin sat at his ease in a wingback chair, but rose as the couple entered.

"Miss Regina Dickson, may I present to you the Viscount Claremont, Lord Edwin Spencer Hodson."

Regina’s head dipped as she sank into a low curtsy. "Lord Hodson," she murmured, rising. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"Miss Dickson, the pleasure is mine, I assure you." He bowed over her proffered hand, and Regina smiled at the meaningful glance he shot Mr. King. Taking the hint, the Master of Ceremonies begged their forgiveness, pleading the demands of other guests, but offered them the use of his office for as long as they desired. Edwin inclined his head in thanks as the majordomo left the room.

Alone, once again, Regina strengthened her grip on Edwin’s hand and he smiled in return.

"You’re dashed hard to run to ground, Miss Dickson. I’ve had people scanning the arrivals for weeks."

"You always say pretty things to flatter my vanity, milord, and I thank you."

Edwin’s gaze dropped at the mention of his title and he looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Ah, yes...I am the son of the Earl of Westnell," he said, his tone apologetic. "I hope this doesn’t color your opinion of me."

Her smile grew. "You are all that is amiable, milord, but if you would prefer to continue as nameless strangers as before..." her eyes sparkled as she squeezed his hand.

His thumb stroked her fingers and he nodded. "If you don’t mind, Lady Cut Purse?"

"No, sir," she whispered. "I do not."

The tenderness in her voice allowed him to finally meet her eyes. "You look splendid."

This praise was evinced with such emotion that it was impossible to doubt the speaker’s sincerity.

"It is the sight of you, sir, that has made me so. This is the first night in three weeks that I have had a moment to myself. Sharing it with you is more than I could have hoped for."

"Such an admission can only add to my felicity. Will you allow me to partner you in the next set? Doubtless your card is full."

Her gaze dropped as she nodded. "I am not above disappointing them all and having them stand up for nothing, but wouldn’t you rather stage a private ball in a less public venue?"

Edwin nodded, his features set. "You are, of course correct, and I hasten to add, the most incredible creature I have ever met, Miss Dickson. To finds such intelligence and honesty is unique in my experience."

"In a life consumed by lies," she murmured, withdrawing her hand from his, "I find my mask only comes off when I am set amidst my peers. If I offend, sir, pray forgive me."

He opened his mouth to protest, when the sounds of a country dance filled the hall.

"I am sorry to say that I am spoken for, sir, and should not, no matter the incentive, disappoint my undeserving partner."

Chuckling, he stepped closer and matched her tones. "I certainly shall not detain you from the unworthy recipient of your attentions. But tell me, please, when shall I see you again?"

Regina, moving from his immediate sphere, turned for the door and glanced over her shoulder as she went. "I have yet to reply to an invitation from the Hurst’s for a ball this Thursday. I might, with proper inducement, be tempted to accept. Doubtless your name is on the guest list?"

With a smile, Edwin held the door for her as she swept from the room.

 

 

When the veranda doors opened, and Regina left the Hurst’s ballroom behind, she stood for a moment, surveying the scene, and awarded Edwin the chance to admire her.

Dressed in shell-pink and white, her figure glowed softly in the light through the door. Her honey-golden hair was wound upon her head and pink flowers had been woven into the arrangement. Rosy cheeks attested to other partners who likewise approved of her appearance. As he reached for her, her bright blue eyes and open smile illuminated the terrace.

He had taken only a few dances, and those were early in the evening. From a position in the entrance hall he had watched Regina and her party’s arrival and had not seen her since.

In truth he was avoiding looking for her. He didn’t like to think of her partners and so contented himself with the thought of being alone with her when she made her escape. To that end he had, from ten of the clock onward, slipped onto the terrace between sets so that he might be there when she arrived.

Mere hours had elapsed between the information from his man of business that a certain Regina Dickson’s name was numbered among the Bath arrivals, and Edwin’s descent upon the town. The ensuing days were spent with his aunt, learning all he could of the ailing Lady Lydia Winston and her particular niece. And there was much to learn.

Born in Paris, Regina was the daughter of the Viscount Bledlow, Lord Jonathan Dickson and the French born Duchess Joan d’Argent, both of whom lost their lives in The Horror. The infant Regina was smuggled to Calais and placed in the care of the childless Lady Winston, the younger sister of Lord Dickson. Edwin was relieved to learn that Regina was far too young at the time to recall a scrap of what she survived.

Adopting the role of devoted daughter, Regina became the sun and moon to her aunt and uncle, and upon his death, swathed herself in full mourning along with her aunt. Sadly, the gossipmongers of Bath painted a grim portrait of the widowed Viscountess’ chances of enjoying the approaching Easter feast.

He also learned that Regina was regarded as a rather odd creature. Her manners were considered correct, but she could be relied upon to speak the absolute truth, no matter how damaging. As a result, she was included on guest lists, but not encouraged to attend.

One final bit of information he had learned only tonight, and that from a guest of the party.

Miss Dickson, he was told, took a daily constitutional in Bowing Park. On some days her aunt accompanied her, but rain or shine, she could be found traversing the park from ten to eleven of the clock.

 

The hour was approaching midnight when Regina escaped the ballroom. The cold air was threatening either rain or snow, but her footsteps were light as the prospect of company was warmer than any wrap. She turned to the manor wall, convinced she would find him lounging there.

He had not disappointed her.

"Do you mind that I penciled you on my card for this set?" she asked, slipping her hand into his as he reached for her.

"I only wish you had done so for the entire evening."

To the sounds of waltz she laughed, allowing him to arrange her. "But then my retreat would have worked in reverse and been in vain! In fleeing from you, I would need to go inside to warm myself rather than come out to cool off."

"Have you been dancing all night?"

"Sadly, yes. Since my arrival was placed amidst the announcements many a gentleman has demanded my attention for the simple act of ascertaining the availability of greater beauties still in town." She laughed at herself as they began dancing. "Soon they will learn that I am a dry well with regards to tonish news and I shall fade; a forgotten wall flower.

"But no more talk of me," she insisted. "Tell me why you are not in town. How did you manage to escape the lure of the theater?"

"A gentleman’s business," he smirked, "can take him to many places at a moment’s notice."

"So you are here on business?"

"That is the belief."

Regina chuckled, nodding. "And the truth of the matter?"

"A goal I had hoped to achieve and have accomplished only this night."

"And what goal was that?"

"The pleasure of a private ball."

Regina raised sparkling eyes to his and whispered, "I wonder you took the trouble."

"It is no trouble, I assure you, when the object sought is so rare."

But her mirth was not won over by his compliment. "Do you not employ a man of business to locate rare items for you?"

"Some quests a man must entrust to no one but himself."

Satisfied, Regina said nothing more while the music lasted. But when it ceased, their dancing did not.

"Have you enjoyed your private ball?" she teased as they rounded the turn.

"Our private ball, and yes, it was all I hoped for."

"Expectations of a ball seldom manifest. I congratulate you, sir."

"I mean to change all that."

"Oh? And by what means, if one may ask?"

He smiled and bent to her ear. "I will not share my secret as yet, but will test it once again."

"Then your business is not concluded with this goal?"

"It is not."

A freezing raindrop halted further conversation. "Ah," Regina murmured, scowling at the sky, "the joys of Bath."

 

The rain continued unabated through the night and into the next day. Without consideration of the damp, Regina was helped into her pattens, collected her umbrella, and was upon her accustom path when the mantle clock offered its tenth chime.

Her daily, hour-long walk was a mental break in an indelible routine. Her days revolved around Aunt Lydia’s needs and desires. On days when the doctor called, they stayed home, and on the other days went to the spa. There was a ready supply of steaming water from the Pump Room at every meal and Regina suffered the treatment along with her guardian.

Entering Bowing Park, Regina took the right-hand path and began her journey.

She came to Bowing as few people ever did. It wasn’t fashionable enough, which suited her. The desire for solitude suffered little competition on the park’s uneven, gravel paths. Moreover, there was secret grove she had discovered early in her tenure and when she needed to disappear it had yet to disappoint.

The sounds of approaching footsteps drew a sigh from her lips. She adjusted the angle of her umbrella, so that she might not have to speak to the interloper, and hurried on.

"Good morning."

Pausing, she smiled and drew the umbrella back to gaze into Edwin’s brown eyes. "Good morning. Was this the test you had yet to execute?"

In reply, he offered her his arm. "Would you do me the honor?"

"With pleasure." She slipped her hand under his elbow and allowed him to lead on.

"How did you uncover this forsaken park?" he asked, eyeing the sodden lawn and muddy paths.

She chuckled to think of what his reaction would be. "The need for quiet led me here."

As anticipated, he looked sheepish as he spoke. "Should I leave you alone?"

"No. You should distract me."

"From?"

She squeezed his arm and whispered, "Not yet."

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, he went on. "And what shall I regale you with? News from town?"

"You know it holds no interest."

"Well then," he mused, "the latest hunting news cannot hope to compete."

She laughed, nodding. "Tell me of your youth." They arrived at the first fork and she directed him to the right.

"My youth?"

"Yes. Your time at Eaton, Oxford, the Grand Tour...all that."

"And you shall tell me of yours in return?"

"Whatever for?" Regina laughed, squeezing him again. "There’s no interest or drama in an idyllic childhood."

"Idyllic? You poor creature—"

"But before you launch into your riveting narrative," she interrupted him, halting upon the path, "please allow me to share a secret with you."

The timbre of his reply displayed his willingness.

A sign set in the grass declared the approaching path to be rough and uneven. Edwin smiled to think there was only one woman in all of Bath that would view this warning as a challenge. True to his convictions, Regina charged ahead, then disappeared behind a tree.

Bemused, he followed, and found himself in a sheltered grove.

"No one comes this way," Regina said, turning to face him. "I have yet to be disturbed here."

"Do you come here often?"

She spread her hands. "It depends upon...the weather."

Owing to what information he had gleaned, Edwin read a great deal into her pause. He did not, however, feel comfortable enough to broach the subject. "And today’s weather?"

Her smile returned. "Conducive to strolling, sir, if you have no objections."

"I desire nothing more than your company," he replied, smiling as he once again offered her his arm. He held a branch aside for her. "Lead on, Lady Cut Purse."

They slipped from the grove and retracted their steps to the level path.

"Will your business keep you from town for long?" Regina asked as they stepped onto the gravel.

"I have no way of knowing. I hope to be here a while—"

"You hope! Is your business so engaging? Am I keeping you from a pleasure that the capital could not afford?"

His voice fell to a caressing whisper. "I believe you know my business."

With a shy smile she offered him her hand. Beaming, he accepted.

"You were telling me of your youth."

"My time at Eaton."

"And the Grand Tour."

"How disappointed will you be to learn I actually attended Wimbledon, and have taken no Grand Tour?"

"Imagine, please, that I have reacted with shocked surprise and indelicately demanded an explanation."

He laughed at this. "To what end?"

She smiled up at him, her blue eyes dancing with mirth. "I am too fagged this morning to even feign surprise, sir, so the telling was easier than the effort."

He bowed in acknowledgement and began. "The tale is quickly told. My father was dying, but managed to linger until I came down from Cambridge. I was then recalled home."

"I’m sorry for your loss," Regina whispered.

But his ensuing tone bespoke of no lasting sorrow. "My father was not an affectionate man, but he was supportive. He instilled in me an intense sense of duty, the strength to make hard decisions and an appreciation of honesty. I cannot say I miss him—I saw him but rarely—but I am sorry to have lost such a mentor."

"Both my parents were killed in Paris," Regina offered, to his surprise. "I was but a babe when I was smuggled to Calais." She laughed and cast a quick glance at him. "The story says that I was hidden in a wine cask. While my uncle lived he delighted in teasing me, saying that the cask was full when I was placed there, and empty upon my arrival."

He chuckled at the image. "Your aunt and uncle raised you?"

"It is my aunt’s delicate health that has drawn us from town. But...you knew that," she concluded with a smile.

Edwin had the grace to blush. "I admit I inquired of my aunt. She’s a great one for the latest news."

"And what else has the ton to say of me?"

"That of all the women I know, you are the most honest."

Regina looked away. "No, sir, I am not. I am a slave to all lies and every moment I breathe compounds my infamy."

Edwin stopped and turned to face her. "Your perceived honesty is enough for me, Miss Dickson."

 

A fortnight passed in a similar fashion; the couple meeting daily and strolling for an hour. There had been no chance of a repeat of their shared escapes, but they were content.

One morning, as Edwin waited upon the path, he was surprised by Regina’s lateness. It was the first time that she had failed to appear, and after a quarter hour, he was left to conclude that something had happened to Lady Winston. This left him in a quandary, as he was unknown to Regina’s household and could hardly present himself at her door.

With a mental shrug he decided to spend a few minutes in the secret grove before returning home.

As he penetrated the foliage, he was completely unprepared for the sight that met his eyes.

Regina was there, her back to him, but as he opened his mouth to greet her, she whirled and he gasped.

Her eyes were scarlet and her swollen face awash with tears. She stared at him, but he could see she was lost to all reason. A crumpled handkerchief was clutched in her hand and she pressed the sodden material to her face.

"Regina," he whispered, appalled for her sake.

Shaking her head, she swayed and threw herself forward even as he reached for her. Closing his arms around her, he pulled her shivering body against his chest, murmuring assurances. Regina sobbed with renewed energy as he held her. He could feel her hands worrying his lapels in her impotence.

Time seemed to stand still, but at long last her tears slowed and he drew back enough to present her with his handkerchief. She languidly lifted it from his hand and attempted to dry her face.

"Thank you," she panted, her voice raw from strain. "Doubtless I have given you a false impression of my situation. Please be assured, sir, my aunt yet lives but," she gasped and a tremor shook her body. "The doctor says for...days...only."

Her clawed hands tore the ribbons of her bonnet in her need for air. Edwin reached to assist, frantic of be of aid. But once again she became insensible until, howling with anguish, Regina yanked the hat free and flung it as she dropped to her knees.

Horrified, he followed, throwing his arms around her as her tears began anew.

"I am lost," she sobbed, slumping against him. "I am lost. What shall I do? What shall become of me? Great God, I am lost!"

"Not lost, dearest," he breathed in her ear. "I will take care of you. Please, darling of my heart. Please, allow me to take care of you, Regina, my love."

But she shook her head and said nothing.

 

The next day dawned bright and clear. Regina was upon the path at her accustom time and Edwin smiled as he offered her his arm. It was as if the previous day had never happened.

"You are very kind," Regina said as they neared the end of their time together. "Knowing you to be the consummate gentleman I have no doubt you are anxious for news of my aunt but are fearful of inciting pain. I was sincere when I said she has days left, so I am afraid that I must quit my morning strolls until such time as—"

"I will be in the grove," he cut in to spare her. "I will be there every day this hour to wait upon you, or should you send for me. And please, Miss Dickson, do not hesitate to send for me."

"You are all that is good, sir."

Rounding the final curve in the gravel path, Edwin stiffened as they beheld a figure approaching.

Dressed in a smart gray and dusty lavender walking dress, the woman’s parasol was at such an angle that there was no way she could have seen them. Regina glanced at her companion, and withdrew her arm when she saw his stricken expression. Edwin said nothing, but stared.

At the very last second the parasol came up, and Regina was not surprised to meet the gaze of Lady Catherine Devine.

"Good gracious!" Lady Devine gasped upon seeing them. "Edwin! Miss Dickson! I am all astonishment! I had no idea you knew one another."

"A less ingenuous greeting I have never had," Regina murmured.

Lady Devine eyed her shrewdly.

"Why, you yourself arranged to meet me," Regina ruthlessly went on, "to question my relationship with your fiancé."

"Fiancé?" Edwin said with a jerk. He blinked at the bristling Lady Devine.

"Please, excuse me," Regina concluded with a shallow curtsy. "It is past time to return home and my aunt will be missing me. I bid you good day."

"I would not wish to detain you," Lady Devine purred, stepping aside to allow her passage.

The couple stood in silence and watched Regina's retreating figure as she left the park. Once they were alone, Edwin turned to Lady Devine.

"Would you care to explain why it is that Miss Dickson mistakenly thinks we are affianced? And how it is that you made her acquaintance? Really, Catherine."

 

Two nights later, as Edwin dressed for dinner, a butler hurried into his suite, a folded note upon the tray he carried.

"This has just arrived, milord, and I was informed the matter is of the utmost urgency."

Snatching up the foolscap, Edwin waved away his valet and opened the note. The single word, "Grove," caused him to yank his coat from the valet’s hands and run for the door. Pounding through the house, he bellowed to whatever staff was listening for a cab to be summoned. He barely paused upon the threshold but raced into the street, searching for a hackney, then hailing one some distance off.

"Bowing Park, man," he shouted, vaulting into the carriage, "and there’s ten pounds if it’s in five minutes."

The cabbie whipped the horse around and the mad dash commenced. Edwin clutched the rope handle as the rocking cab thundered around the Crescent and headed for the edge of town.

Not five minutes later he was running into the park, after telling the cabbie to wait. He wasn’t sure what he would find, but the chilling thought that Lady Winston had finally passed away was his only certainty.

 

Regina was indeed in the grove, as he thrust the branches aside, and the sight of her black figure brought him up short.

On her hands and knees, her filthy, lace gloves attested to the fact that she had dug the small hole she bent over. Her forehead was inches from the sodden grass as she allowed her tears to fall into the tiny grave. She made not a sound but rocked herself in her struggle to remain silent.

"Oh, Regina," Edwin moaned, sinking to his knees beside her. "My love."

She shook her head, her features contorting into a grimace as she fought her baser instincts.

"Cry, my love. You must cry."

Her head dropped onto the grass as her lips curled back in a silent scream. Her whizzing breath was the only sound in the park. Edwin cast about, searching for guidance, then gave in to desire.

Leaning forward, he gathered her into his arms and lifted. She struggled for a moment, but he crushed her to his chest and turned, making for the carriage.

The cabbie jumped down from the box and jerked the carriage door open as Edwin emerged from the park. "Where to, milord?"

"Gay Street, number 11."

He would take her to his aunt.

 

Springing from the carriage, Edwin spared not a thought for any onlookers as he ran into the house with his light burden. Regina seemed asleep, her labored breathing the only sign that she was yet among the living. Edwin made for the withdrawing room, shouting orders as he went.

"Edwin?" Lady Celestine Stokes called with evident confusion as she crossed the hall from the parlor. "What has happened, Edwin?"

She stopped upon the threshold, looked at the tableau before her, and began giving orders of her own. "Summon Mrs. Parks, send Leeson to fetch Doctor Moyer. Rogers! Bring my writing desk and build up that fire!"

Moments later a note was dispatched to Regina’s home, informing them of her location and asking for her maid to come with clothing.

Surveying the dirt-stained satin on the slumbering creature, Lady Stokes turned to Edwin. "I only heard moments ago, my dear, or I would have warned you."

Edwin’s head snapped up. "Are you not alone?"

"Fear not. Lady Darby has been gone these ten minutes at least. I was merely reading before making dinner preparations."

He sagged. "Forgive me, please, Aunt Cel, but I didn’t know to whom to turn."

"You did the right thing, Edwin. Here she will be among friends, not by herself in Green Street."

"But I know so little about her, aunt. I may very well have snatched her from the comfort of friends."

"She would not have summoned you, my dear, had she not wished to be rescued."

He looked up, encouraged, and found his aunt nodding.

"News could have reached you from any number of sources. That she called to you means that it was your hand she longed to grasp." Lady Stokes sank down beside Regina and lifted her cold hand. "She has no one, Edwin; no one to whom she can turn."

"I made her an offer." His voice was flat and his eyes locked upon the pallid sleeper.

The older woman glanced at her nephew. "And her reply?"

Edwin dropped into a chair beside the fire. "I did not press."

Lady Stokes nodded. "Better to wait for happier times, my dear. She is a pretty young thing and you both have many years before you."

"She is the one that I want, Aunt Cel. I'll have no other."

"And what of Catherine? Does she know?"

Edwin scowled, turning to the fire. "She delights in telling all and sundry that we are engaged." He swung back and waved a hand at Regina. "She told Miss Dickson. Forced an introduction from an innocent cousin expressly to question my whereabouts."

Lady Stokes rose, laughing. "She is a formidable young woman."

"And she will make an unsuspecting and ill prepared duke very tired some day."

"Don’t speak slightingly of your cousin, my dear," Lady Stokes scolded, though she smiled.

A footman announced Doctor Moyer.

"I will return," Edwin said as he rose and made for the door, passing the doctor who hurried to the couch.

Lady Stokes followed her nephew into the hall. "Where are you going?"

Watching as the door closed upon physician and patient, Edwin stared for a second at the sealed room, then smiled. "I’m going to obtain a special license, aunt."

The older woman frowned, laying a hand on his arm. "She is in mourning, Edwin."

"And I want no more excuses to be removed from her side, Aunt Cel." He looked hard at the door. "I should be with her...even now." After a moment he shook himself and smiled down at her. "Wish me happy," he breathed, bending to kiss her cheek.

"I do, my dear. You know I do."

 

One year later...

 

Regina closed the doors on the manor and turned to the wall where Edwin lounged. His smile echoed her own as he reached for her.

"Lydia would not go to sleep," Regina murmured apologetically, slipping her hand in his and allowing him to draw her closer. "Nurse and I were near our wit’s end."

"Should I speak sternly to her? Perform my duty as father?"

Molding herself down the length of him, Regina shook her head. "You should distract her mother. That, I have come to understand, is a father’s true task."

"What is your pleasure, Lady Cut Purse?"

She snuggled against him. "While using you as a pillow has its appeal, I would enjoy a waltz, if you have no objections?"

"You’re not too chilly?"

"Nothing I mind...and a waltz won’t cure."

He kissed her before gathered her into his arms. "Close your eyes, and imagine the music..."

 

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