Thea Devine - Fascinated

It wasn't as if he weren't aware of it, but the fun was in seeing who made the Book. It was always vastly entertaining.

White's echoed Heeton's line but one. Soames was there- insipid little whelp-and Law, who at least had some countenance if nothing else to recommend her. But the interesting one was the Olney. She who had kept up with him at loo this past evening, and who eyed him with more than passing curiosity whenever he saw her.

She was the only one Raulton would not have predicted. She was too outspoken, self-aware, self-sufficient. And not in the least malleable, or one who would be accommodating to his needs.

But beautiful, yes. The most beautiful among this year's London belles, despite the fact it was her third turnout. And well-spoken, witty, stylish, shapely, with plump full breasts and neat taut nipples that she had practically presented to him on a platter last night.

Olney with her thick dark hair and her knowing blue eyes. Silvery laugh. Elegant hands. Exquisitely dressed. An only child, and her father's heir. Fascinating. A woman any man should want to marry.

And the Book made her at ten-to-one.

Why had no one told him about her?

He wasted no time finding out. And he liked what he heard: a productive estate in Hertfordshire waiting for the man she would marry. Money in funds. London town house. Best circles.

The woman was surely a treasure. What was wrong with her?

Why had no one snapped her up heretofore?

Did it matter? If no one wanted her, she must be desperate this third Season, and thus, fair game. And he was as eligible as anyone, and mending his reputation daily. It was time to suck it in and throw his preconceived ideas out the window and sniff around a woman he could actually stand to live with.

One who looked like an excellent fuck, judging by her breasts and nipples. And if she was, so much the better. Things-or at least one thing-were certainly looking up.

Ancilla came to call. "What's to do, my dear Regina? I missed the Petleys' party last night, and apparently it was the place to be."

Regina rang for tea, and they settled in the library. "It was a card party and supper for a few friends. A few hundred friends, that is. Their house cannot accommodate such a rout. But there we were, and so was everyone else they had ever met in all their years in London. I ensconced myself at loo and did not need to bother with the rest."

"No, just with Mr. Raulton. Really, Regina…"

She sighed. "Is that out and about already? You would think these people had better things to talk about." She motioned the maid to bring in the tea cart and set up the table. "Like food, for instance. Well, the Petleys do better than most at table, but where can you find anything like this? She filched one of cook's scones from the cart and popped it in her mouth.

A strategic exercise really so she would not have to answer Ancilla's questions. But Ancilla was never deterred, and if anything she was too patient by half, which was probably the way in which she got most of the good gossip she always seemed to have.

"They've booked his matrimonial chances at White's," she said off-handedly. "Father told me this morning. Which means it's been on at Heeton's for at least a week. Would you care to wager whose names are on the line?"

"Soames," Regina said promptly, because it stood to rea-son that anyone Raulton had paid that much attention to would instantly come on the line. "Other than that, I couldn't begin to guess."

"Well, for today-Soames, but the odds are off the sheet on that one, Miss Law, Miss Babbage-a dark horse-and a certain Lady Olney."

It took Regina a moment to grasp that last. "ME?!"

"Your very self, Regina. Now, how did that come to pass? Did you throw yourself at him last night?"

"I played cards for hours and hours and hours. With six other people alternating," Regina said indignantly. "We had not a moment alone, or a conversation that was not overheard by a half dozen onlookers."

"It must have been very interesting conversation," Ancilla said.

Had it been? Or was it just the usual card table rousting and jousting? For the life of her she couldn't remember, and all because she had been so furious that Jeremy was not there.

But he was here with her now. She could feel the light touch of the chain around her hips and between her legs. Her body reacted, stiffened.

She belonged to him. She hungered for him. She wondered where she even got the patience to sit with Ancilla this morning. She didn't care about Raulton's stable or whether sane men were willing to lose massive sums of money wagering on which impeccable innocent he might marry.

But the fact her name was on the line shocked her.

God, if her father found out…

Of course he would find out. One round at the clubs and it was over: his every nightmare come true. His daughter's name on the lips of every gabble grinder in the whole of London, and worse than that, scandal broth for the Tatler, too.

"I thought you should know," Ancilla said. "Although what you might do about it, short of leaving Town, I don't know." She bit into a scone. "These are excellent, Regina. I must come to tea more often."

They sipped in silence for a few minutes, Regina's mind racing nineteen to the dozen trying to think of some way to cope with this awful news.

"I never encouraged him." Not really. Only Ancilla and her father had overheard her imprudent and indiscreet comment about her desire to marry him. Only Jeremy believed that she would have become his mistress, had she not become his. And now this. Irreparable, irreversible THIS.

"I did not want him."

"Well, he now has cause to think just the opposite."

Jeremy would know soon enough, too. And after last night when he had ridden her to midsummer and over. How would it be once he heard this news? All the chains in the world could not bind him to her if he believed she truly wanted Raulton. Worse and worse, she had said it often enough.

"My lady." The butler at the door.

She looked up, hard put to even think of receiving anyone else on the heels of this news.

"Mr. Raulton, if you please."

I don't please. Blast blast and blast. With Ancilla right in the front row, lapping up every word.

She slanted a look at Ancilla, whose pale eyes were avid with curiosity; she blew out a hard breath and bowed to the inevitable. "Have Nellie bring more tea, and send in Mr. Raulton."

And there he was, tricked out for a morning visit, doing the Proper with the requisite bowing and scraping and every attempt to curb his natural cynicism as she introduced him to Ancilla and he seated himself in the wing chair opposite the tea table.

"I hope our sojourn at the card table last night was agreeable to you," he murmured.

"Indeed." She motioned to Nellie to set down the teapot and tray, after which she poured him a cup and handed it over. "I'm very fond of cards, and a whole night at it would barely tire me."

"Ah… a woman with stamina-good to know." He sipped as she stared at him, appalled.

Even that innocent comment, he turned into something salacious?

She slanted a look at Ancilla, feeling as if she were drowning. She wasn't half awake even, and she must deal with him? Ancilla shook her head, so no help there. All Ancilla wanted to do was observe him like an insect under a magnifying glass. How comfortable it must be to remain so detached from everything. She could resent it if she did not care for Ancilla so much.

"Does not any woman need a certain amount of stamina just to cope with the rigors of the Season?" she asked lightly, seeking to put a less sexual connotation on his words.

"But you're a woman of experience," he came back instantly, "and familiar with all the ins and outs. Are you not?"

What was this conversation about? Her head was spinning. She was not used to speaking in double entendres. And for some reason, he assumed she was.

"Am I not which? A woman of experience, or familiar? In both cases, Mr. Raulton, I am not."

"But you are very clever with words, Miss Olney." He rose then and took her hand. "I look forward to seeing more of you." He bowed to Ancilla and withdrew.

What?

Ancilla was fanning herself. "My dear Regina-he is quick off the mark. Complete to a shade. And not too bracket-faced for one of his experience."

Regina bridled. "Do you think so? Well, put yourself on the line for his experience, Ancilla, because he will in no way ever see more of me."

And that was not the end of it. Ancilla left just as her father came home fresh from his rounds of the clubs, fresh with the news, and a fresh rage over her lack of propriety.

"Everyone is talking about the Book," he fumed, "and the worst of it is, all but one of you were booked at Heeton's this past week as well. The wagering is astronomical, but to hear my daughter talked about like a piece of prime flesh is beyond anything a father should have to bear. And it is too late now to dump the broth, my girl. Why could you not be as restrained and proper as Ancilla? There is someone who keeps her counsel, speaks not an ill-advised word to anyone, and is universally loved by everyone."

"Except a man," Regina muttered, and immediately hated herself for even voicing such an ill-mannered self-serving comment. "Then, by all means, I shall certainly try to emulate our saintly Ancilla."

"You may mock me, but there is something to be said for a woman of taste and restraint, Regina. And you have proved you have neither…"

Oh, if only he knew…

"And that you cannot be trusted to know your own mind."

That stopped her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your thoughtlessness, your cavalier dismissal of my wishes and my concerns-well, I had thought that all the product of a high-spirited, but at bottom, properly raised daughter. And here instead is the bottom line: she is the talk of the Town, named on the line in two of the most notorious betting Books in London, and is pursued right into her home by the most debauched man in England, a man she professed she wanted to marry, and who now apparently may not be averse to marrying her, especially if he can line his pockets in the process. Heaven help me, does everything you wish for come true? And yet you denied the whole straight up and down last night. So what is a father to make of that? I ought to lock you in the cellars at Sherburne until this stink blows over."

Was there anything more humiliating than this? Her father's anger, his assumption she had been carrying on secretly somehow with Raulton to cause all this furor with the betting Books… what would he do if he knew she was living a secret life as Jeremy's mistress?

He would die. He would just die. He looked about ready to pop right now, and on the cusp of meting out some kind of punishment that would surely involve her banishment from London.

She didn't know how to make him believe that she had never had a moment's interest in Raulton. It was past doing: the betting line said it all.

And her father would believe that, sooner than her.

And it was all her fault to begin with. Blast it.

She was so tired. "Just don't send me back to Hertfordshire," she murmured.

"It is exactly where I wish you would go, my girl. You understand all the ramifications of this, do you not? Your name associated with Raulton? Bets being placed on our good name as to whether he will offer for you. Who in conscience after his decision is made would even want to marry you after this debacle? This is your third go-round with no reliable offers. After this Season, you will rusticate until you die, an unwed spinster. There is no other redemption for actions as careless as yours. And perhaps that is the best punishment of all."

Jeremy came later, and Reginald met him at the door. "So you've heard the news?" "The news?" "The Book." White's had it then, and Reginald was aware of the whole, damn it. He hadn't been in time to shield him from the worst. "I just heard."

"So our little scheme didn't work," Reginald said snappishly.

"My dear Reginald-we barely had any time. It's been three weeks or so since she declared. A week and a half since we made the decision, and this week did I begin to implement it. Events were out of our control. The card party last night. Everyone was talking about the repartee between them."

"You should have come," Reginald said sourly. "You could have taken her away and prevented this."