He seemed taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader, his hair longer, his frown utterly forbidding, but that could be the effect of the high ceilings and low light. Certainly the dark look on his face reflected the fact that he was not pleased, not with anything. Especially not her.

But why should he have any opinion in the matter at all?

She could not take her eyes off of him.

Nor could he stop staring at her.

He had been thinking all along he would be dealing with the artless child she had been, only a few years older, of course, and instead he was looking at a woman full grown and aware of her power, a woman with presence and passion. A woman old enough to wed.

It was the most stunning revelation.

Reginald should have warned him. Damn him-Reginald should have told him. He felt as if he had fallen off a steep cliff, as if everything-every preconception, everything he knew-had been wrenched out from under him.

And to make matters worse, there was Raulton, strutting and preening around the perimeter of the room, accosting the ladies who would speak with him, and commanding her avid attention as she seemed to follow his every move.

Damn, damn, damn. Those eyes. As bright and blue as ever he remembered. But not that womanly body, or that beautiful face. He didn't remember her looking like that at all. Damn Reginald. Damn him.

And standing next to that pale blond woman in white, she positively glowed. Did he not see Raulton slide a proprietary look of interest her way?

Damn it damn it damn it…

Thank God he had come tonight; thank God he had seen her before he had started any intervention, because he couldn't trust himself to go to her now, knowing what he knew.

And he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Or Raulton.

Things could heat up at the instant, he thought, watching the man warily. Raulton meant business, and there was no more beautiful business in this ballroom than Regina.

And from the way she was looking at Raulton, Reginald had it exactly right. Regina didn't care a fig about his reputation or any improprieties. All she saw was the virile cock-of-the-walk.

So like a woman, he thought mordantly. Never looking beyond the outward appearances or the size of a bankbook.

And Raulton looked ripe to feed on a frisky virgin or two.

But it mattered not. Regina would not be one of them. If Jeremy had been ambivalent before about this ridiculous charge he had undertaken, he was not now. Reginald had not overstated the case. And he had been right to come to Jeremy.

Raulton was the enemy, and he would never have her, not if Jeremy could help it. His mission was perfectly clear: he had her father's full faith and trust, and he knew exactly what he had to do.

"They say she left him because he wasn't rich enough."

Ancilla's words finally registered, and Regina swung her gaze back to her friend, though she would much rather have gazed at Raulton. He was fascinating to watch, the epitome of cool disdain as he circled the room, dropping a greeting here, a word there, a bow to a lady. Perfect. Impeccable. One would have thought he was the most welcomed parti in the world, instead of a man who was bent on mending his reputation.

She reached frantically for the topic of conversation. Yes. "Jeremy, you mean."

"Jeremy, I mean. And doesn't he look the brooding hero now, with that deep frown and dressed all in black?"

"Ancilla!"

"No, no, no. There is a man I would not suit, not in the least. I could never get past that woman."

There was always a that woman, Regina thought critically. Witness Raulton. And the that woman always seemed to have a great deal more fun, too.

"What about Mr. Raulton, then?" Best to keep her attention there; then she could gaze at him with impunity and fuel the fire, which, given Jeremy's complicity in her father's scheme and the way Jeremy and her father were glaring at her she was more than wont to do at the moment.

It was like having two bulldogs nipping at her heels, blast them both.

"… how much of a man's more primitive nature ought a woman support," Ancilla was saying. "And yet, the Skeffing-hams had no compunction about inviting him here tonight," she added, voicing what many guests must be privately saying.

Well, yes, there was a consideration, Regina thought. He had been at any number of events already, hosted by personages who seemed to be lending their countenance to his efforts to-what?-reinstate himself in society's good graces? Reform? What did anyone know of Raulton's motives?

Or any man's for that matter?

"Strictly speaking, he is as eligible as anyone," Regina pointed out. "His wealth must make him so. And morality doesn't enter into it once a man is serious about finding a wife. Every man goes off hall-cocked until he gets leg-shackled. You must admit, he's a most intriguing man, and any one of us would be curious if not interested."

"Not this one of us," Ancilla said tartly. "And yet-he's so very good about doing the Proper. That is Harriet Soames with him. She's a very great heiress. She need not even consider anyone of Mr. Raulton's station, and yet there she is. She cannot be above sixteen years. Who could have so ill-advised her as to stand up with him?"

Regina's ears pricked up. Stand up with him? The thought settled in her mind, light as air. "Are you sure?" Stand up with him… oh, the very thing to make Father go around the bend.

"Oh, we are no great friends and she is as aloof as a choir stall, but yes, she is among those everyone is watching to see where her interest lies. Oh, but surely it is not with Mr. Raulton."

"Do let's move closer to see," Regina murmured. It was a really bad suggestion, verging on ill-mannered, but she had to make sure that he noticed her. For how else would he know she was there? And how else would Jeremy see them when Raulton came to ask her to dance?

"Regina!"

"Come, haven't you a lick of curiosity about Miss Soames?"

"Not even a lap."

"Well, I do. Do come with me, Ancilla. You know you want to."

Ancilla followed her reluctantly. "It is far too noisy," she whispered crossly as they edged their way to the forefront of the onlookers.

"Oh, but do look. You are so right. Miss Soames looks as though she just let down her dresses and put up her hair. What would a man like Mr. Raulton want with such a milk-and-water girl?"

"Oh, these men!" Ancilla muttered disgustedly. "Why is there not some kind of guide, some kind of tutoring for a girl as young as this to deal with a man like that…"

Regina was only half listening as she watched them, but then Ancilla's words suddenly penetrated, taking shape, and taking on life, and she grasped her friend's hand urgently. "What? What did you say?"

"I said a girl as young as Miss Soames ought to have some kind of guide or tutor so she could learn how to deal with a man as experienced as Mr. Raulton."

"Oh, exactly!" And why hadn't she thought of that herself? Because Ancilla was a genius, and she was a dolt was why. The answer had always been before her. But now, it was a plan, sprung fully formed from Ancilla's trenchant observation, perfect for diverting Jeremy and accomplishing her own ends.

Yes. Once she got Raulton to dance with her. "Women are always the last to know anything," she added roundly, "especially anything having to do with men."

"Well, poor Miss Soames, in any event," Ancilla said dampingly. I don't envy her if it is Mr. Raulton on whom she seeks to fix her interest."

"Oh, nor I," Regina said hastily as the music ended and the dancers bowed to each other. And now, and now-she needed to catch his eye, but he was busy returning Miss Soames to her mother. He did have manners.

But she really really needed just this one more piece of the pie. Mr. Raulton must dance with her before the evening was done, so she could set her Plan in motion.

However, it became apparent that this night, among the Skeffinghams' refined company, Mr. Raulton was after only those girls who were very young, and very pristine, the ones who perched with great sangfroid on the sideline chairs and waited like queens for each escort to humble himself and come to her.

And so it must be, Regina decided. A woman must always wait. It was one of those things. If a man wished to renovate his name and reputation, he must act impeccably, and seem at the outset to require the most chaste, the innocent, who would be uncritical, malleable, and utterly inexperienced in the ways of the world; those he would be able to control and manipulate by their affection and their desire to be wed, for what else was there for a girl, or even a woman? And so, they must wait. She must wait. Wait for a man to notice, to speak, to come. But he would come for her, she was certain of it, when he was tired of all those green girls and their insipid conversation, and at a point in the evening when his choices would not be so much remarked upon.

She sat on the sidelines with Ancilla and patiently waited. "Your Mr. Raulton shows no favorites," Ancilla commented acidly. "He goes to every sixteen-year-old equally. How democratic of the man."

Regina suppressed a smile. Ancilla's observation was not quite true; as Raulton worked his way around the room, Regina had seen his covert looks at others, and the hesitating step he had taken toward her once or twice.

He had been watching her, amused that she, too, played the game of propriety by sitting on the sidelines and waiting, always waiting.

"My lady?" And then his voice startled her, because she had been so deep in thought, and she hadn't been expecting him, not just then.

"My lord?" She looked up at his lean face that only now was showing some of the ravages of his excesses. Pleasant enough, up close, but what really attracted her was the humor in his expression, as if he knew what was said about him and didn't care, as if he were tweaking the mores of the very society into which he sought entree, and she, at least, was in on the joke.

He took her hand, and she made a moment's show of reluctance before she allowed him to lead her to the floor for the reel. It was perfect for her purposes: there would be minimal conversation, and she could gaze at him as if her heart's soul were in her eyes.

One dance, one intricate interlacing of hands and steps and things unsaid. She couldn't have planned it better. She hoped Jeremy and her father were both watching. She hoped they both felt as powerless as she.

And it worked. She couldn't believe how beautifully it worked. When Raulton finally led her back to her chair, she found Ancilla had gone, effectively voicing her distress and disapproval. Her father was waiting for her, grim as a bear, and the best thing of all was when she finally caught her breath and looked around the room, she saw Jeremy by the door, his expression as black as a thundercloud.

So now the stage was set. She had only to sit back and wait for Jeremy to dance attendance on her, and then pay him back for his presumption.

She dressed accordingly the next day, in simple white muslin trimmed at the bodice and hem with demure pleating, and a matching lace-trimmed cap. Virginal. Innocent. What everyone expected to see.

She made herself comfortable in the library until, as she knew he inevitably would, her father wandered in.

"This season is too fatiguing," he began, dropping into the wing chair opposite the sofa where she sat. "Last night… too crowded, too many undesirables. I don't know what the

Skeffinghams were thinking. That Raulton-there is a man who ought not be received at the docks let alone in polite society. What is the world coming to?"

"Oh, indeed? He seemed quite the thing to me."

"Well, he ain't. And you should have known better than to take his hand willy-nilly like that," Reginald grumbled

"I did no such thing," Regina said indignantly. "I just danced with him. A reel, for heaven's sake. We were barely face-to-face throughout the whole. But"-she lowered her voice insinuatingly-"he did cut quite a fine figure. And his manners were impeccable…"

"Re-gina…" Reginald began, but the butler interrupted.

"Mr. Gavage, my lord."

"Thank God," Reginald muttered, rising from his chair and relieved as a ninepence that he didn't have to pursue the question of Raulton one moment further. "Send him in."

And there he was, framing the doorway, glowering.

"Jeremy, my boy-here's Regina."

Jeremy cast a dark glance at her. "So I see."