Dare was expecting breakfast with Regan to be a chilly affair.

However, the lady was full of surprises. Instead of sulking, Regan entered the morning room with a friendly greeting to both him and Frost. It was only when she sat down across from him at the table that Dare noted the shadows under her eyes. Her sleep had clearly been no more restful than his after her departure.

"Did you enjoy yourself at the Deightons', Regan?"

Dare tensed at Frost's innocent question. When they had departed from the Deightons' town house, Regan had been content to keep certain details of the evening from her brother. Had she changed her mind? Vengeful women were, by their very nature, unpredictable creatures.

Regan did not look up as she stirred her hot chocolate. "Very much so. Vane was an admirable escort."

Her brother frowned slightly as Regan brought her hand to her mouth and yawned. "Ah, yes, that would account for your lack of appetite and endless prattling."

Frost was rewarded with a genuine smile from Regan.

"I am unused to the late hours the ton keeps, brother." As proof, she put down the silver spoon and took a tentative sip of her chocolate. "Mmm ... delicious." She sighed.

Frost seemed to be satisfied with his sister's performance. While he regaled him with a humorous anecdote of his own evening, Dare's thoughts and gaze wandered to Regan. Although her sleepless night was visible on her face, the weariness did not detract from her beauty. This morning, she had worn a long-sleeved muslin round dress with enough lace to please the strictest matron. Her long black tresses were tucked into a Parisian mob.

Dare couldn't help recalling how Regan's hair had been spread out like a fan on his bed or the taste of her as he suckled at her breasts. She had taken pleasure in his bold caresses. The wetness he had discovered between her legs had proven that she had desired him.

Thank God, Regan had come to her senses and ended his sensual exploration before he had lost complete control. An innocent like Regan was seeking more than a physical release when she took a lover. Her young heart craved words of love and poetry that filled her soul.

Pretty lies.

Dare had whispered them into other women's ears. Sweet flattery and promises that rarely survived the dawn, but none of his former lovers had cared. The women that he pursued understood that he was only seeking a temporary liaison.

Regan was not the sort of female he could bed and dismiss from his thoughts. Through her connection with Frost, their lives were intertwined. It would not be fair to let her believe that he could offer more than a few nights of passion.

"What say you, Dare?"

Dare blinked, realizing he had been caught staring at Regan. "Forgive me, Frost. The long nights have disturbed my sleep as well."

The delicate pink hue of Regan's cheeks darkened at his obscure reference to his bed. She said to Frost, "It is unnecessary, brother. Your friends are not at my beck and call."

Dare cleared his throat. "How may I be of assistance?"

Regan was slow to respond, but she managed to meet his curious gaze. While her demeanor was not hostile, it lacked the warmth that he always associated with her. "Do not allow my brother to bully you into chaperone duties. I have already sent word to Lady Karmack that I will be joining her, Thea, and Nina this afternoon. Our hostess, Lady Harper, is holding some sort of literary salon, and I believe gentlemen are not invited."

Dare hid his disappointment. If he had spent the afternoon with Regan, it would have given him the opportunity to apologize for his behavior last evening.

"Lady Harper ... is she not a good friend of Lady Sinclair's mother?" Dare asked, seeking confirmation from his friend.

"Yes." Frost chuckled. "If Lady Duncombe has any influence, you will be playing cards rather than discussing books."

Regan nodded to one of the footmen as he pulled her chair away from the table so she could stand. "Either way, it sounds like a pleasant afternoon. Besides, I honed my gaming skills at an early age."

She leaned over long enough to kiss her brother on the cheek.

Frost captured her wrist before she could move away. "I thought Miss Swann did not approve of gambling."

"Not in the slightest," Regan assured her brother with a guileless smile. "However, her students had a more liberal view when it came to games of chance."

It was annoying when Frost was correct.

After an hour of listening to the recitation of F. D. Hermans's poem "Modern Greece," Regan was beginning to nod off. Thankfully Sin's mother-in-law, Lady Duncombe, announced at the ninety-fourth stanza that her ears had grown too weary to continue. She suggested that the card tables be brought out, and several ladies had seconded the notion. Lady Harper's literary salon had swiftly deteriorated into a genteel version of a gaming hell.

"I have attended two literary salons this month," the dark-haired woman standing to Regan's right said pensively. "On both occasions, whist triumphed over literature. Perhaps my voice is too grating?"

Regan blinked at the anxiety she sensed from the other woman. She belatedly realized that the brunette had been the lady selected to read F. D. Hermans's exceedingly long poem.

"Not at all," Regan protested. "You have a voice worthy of the stage."

The woman gave her a hesitant smile. "You are just being kind."

Regan noticed that Lady Karmack had joined Lady Duncombe's table. She respectfully inclined her head when the older woman noticed her staring. "Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am too plainspoken to be considered kind."

Her companion peered at her with interest. "You are a remarkable woman."

"I have always thought so," Regan said, her eyes twinkling with arrogance and humor. "My brother, on the other hand, views outspoken females as a trial."

"I do not believe we have been properly introduced," the brunette said. "I am Mrs. Randall."

"Lady Regan," she replied, curtsying to prove that she had learned one or two things at Miss Swann's Academy for Young Ladies. "Are you a relative of Lady Harper's?"

Mrs. Randall shook her head. "No, just a friend of the family. After my husband died, Lady Harper was kind enough to invite me to stay with her and her family while I coped with the grief of my loss."

"Forgive me, I did not mean to stir up painful memories."

"Oh, no apology is needed," Mrs. Randall assured her. "Three years have passed since my husband's death. And while a part of me will always love him, I am ready to move on with my life."

Mrs. Randall might have been eight or ten years older than Regan. Beautiful and intelligent, she possessed a quiet grace that would appeal to most gentlemen.

"So you are seeking a husband this season," Regan said shrewdly.

The brunette's lips parted in surprise, and then she began to laugh. "Oh, my goodness. Lady Regan, you are a gem. No one has ever put it so bluntly."

Now it was Mrs. Randall's turn to be kind. Compared with someone like her companion, Regan felt like a chunk of coal rather than a diamond of the first water.

"Nevertheless"-the woman leaned closer so she could not be overheard-"I will admit that there is a certain gentleman this season who has captured my interest."

"Is he handsome?"

"Very much so. On several occasions, he has hinted that he would welcome a closer friendship."

Intrigued, Regan whispered, "Who is it?"

"Oh, I mustn't." Mrs. Randall blushed. "It is too soon to tell if the gentleman returns my affections. If I have exaggerated his interest, I would prefer to keep the gentleman's name to myself."

Regan could not help but think of Dare. Five years ago, he had changed her life with a single kiss, and she suspected that he was not even aware of it until she had taunted him into kissing her last evening. Her breasts tightened as she recalled the sensation of his hands caressing her body and the feel of his mouth suckling her nipples.

All of a sudden the temperature had increased in the drawing room.

She cleared her dry throat. "If you want my opinion, Mrs. Randall, I would not allow etiquette or pride to prevent you from approaching the gentleman that you desire. You are too beautiful to remain a widow. Be bold!"

Mrs. Randall gave Regan an impulsive embrace. "Excellent advice, Lady Regan. I think I shall follow it!"

Chapter Fifteen.

Almost a week had passed since Regan had brazenly knocked on the door to his bedchamber. Dare still could not believe how close he had come to deflowering Frost's sister. As he drifted off to sleep each night, his last thoughts were of Regan, and how she had gazed up at him with a sly feminine awareness that Dare's rigid control had reached his limits. Regan's desire had almost been his undoing.

Although their recent exchanges had been civil, Dare pretended not to notice the challenge he saw in her dark blue eyes.

See me.

Take me.

It was too much for a man to bear.

What he needed was a distraction him from his growing obsession over the lady who deserved someone better than the second son of the Duke of Rhode.

There were plenty of Madame Venna's girls visiting Nox each night. One of those eager ladies could satisfy his needs without demanding anything more than payment for her services. Such carnal unions had been appealing when he was younger. However, Dare had come to appreciate the exclusivity, albeit temporary, of a mistress. Over the years, he had formed discreet connections that benefited both him and his lovers.

This season, he had had his eye on the elusive Mrs. Randall. If not for Regan, the lovely widow would have been the one who invaded his private thoughts each night.

It is not too late.

Frost and Regan had already departed for Lord and Lady Trussell's ball. Dare had declined their offer to share their coach, preferring the freedom of his own equipage. He had also been acutely aware that Mrs. Randall would be attending the ball.

With Frost watching over his younger sister, Dare saw his chance to pay his respects to Mrs. Randall. If the lady was agreeable, perhaps they could discuss their friendship someplace private, without the prying eyes of the ton observing them.

And away from Regan's watchful, hurt gaze.

Dare pressed his fingers to his eyes and groaned. He was a grown man. What he did, and whom he chose as his companion for the evening, was no one's business but his own.

He did not want to hurt Regan. By God, it was the last thing he desired. However, if Dare was leaving her innocence and affection for another gent to claim, then he had every right to drown out his own misery in the arms of someone else.

Banishing the image of Regan from his thoughts, he thought instead of Mrs. Randall. Touching his jaw thoughtfully, he realized that he needed to shave and rang for a servant. He would focus on the lovely possibilities the evening had to offer. Even if he had to lie to himself to do it.

Frost was a tolerable escort. Unlike Dare, who hovered around her most of the evening like a possessive suitor, her brother seemed content to chaperone her from afar. Once he had silently warned off any potential admirer in the ballroom, her brother disappeared for several hours. Regan assumed that he and his friends had adjourned to the library for brandy and cards.

Or he was dallying with his current mistress.

In any event, Frost's private business was not Regan's concern.

Despite her brother's notoriety, several gentlemen asked her to dance. She displayed her dancing skills with pride, and even Lady Pashley nodded, offering her unspoken approval. Regan did not require the marchioness's support. Not when the lady's praise appeared to be more condescending than flattering.

All in all, it was a grand evening at the Trussells'. Hunter, Vane, and Saint had emerged long enough from the card room to dance with her. At her urging, the gentlemen even danced with Thea and Nina. Lady Karmack looked almost apoplectic when she saw her youngest daughter dancing with various members of the Lords of Vice. Her sharp gaze immediately alighted on Regan, for she knew who was responsible for the mischief.

As she waited for latest dance partner to return with a glass of lemonade he had offered to procure for her, Regan saw Dare enter the ballroom from one of the side doors. When had he arrived at the ball? Perhaps, upon his arrival, he had avoided the ballroom, and joined Frost and the others in the card room.

Regan brightened when she saw Dare look about the room. Was he searching for her? Smiling, she contemplated how to politely dismiss her dance partner when she saw his gaze fix on someone. A grin stretched across his face as he started to cross the room.

Regan's heart constricted, and she gasped in pain as Dare bowed gallantly in front of Mrs. Randall.

Good grief! Was Dare really the gentleman with whom Mrs. Randall had expressed a desire to form an intimate connection?

And she had told the beautiful widow to be bold!

Regan pressed her hand against her abdomen and tried to fight down the nausea churning in her stomach.

"I think they make a charming couple. Do you not agree?" Lady Pashley literally purred in Regan's ear.

Regan started. She hadn't heard the marchioness come up beside her. It was difficult to conceal her displeasure as Lady Pashley's sleeve brushed Regan's arm. Dare's sister-in-law was the last person that she wanted to confide in. "To whom are you referring?"

Lady Pashley was too intelligent not to see past Regan's feigned ignorance. "Hugh and Mrs. Randall. Rumor has it that half the gentlemen of the ton have been sniffing around the lady's skirts since last season when she came out of mourning. She had refused all respectable and not-so-respectable offers until she was introduced to our Hugh."

Regan internally cringed at the notion that she had anything in common with the marchioness. "I was not aware that Dare was acquainted with Mrs. Randall."

Lady Pashley's smile reminded Regan of a very hungry cat. "Oh, I have been watching their awkward courtship since long before your unexpected arrival in London, my dear. As a married woman, it is rather sweet to watch others fumble about as they work up the courage to take what they want."

"So you believe Dare plans to marry Mrs. Randall?"

The marchioness chuckled softly. "Heavens, no. Even the second son of a duke can do better than marry the widow of a lieutenant, nor would His Grace approve of such a marriage." Lady Pashley placed her hand on Regan's arm and guided her to the right so they had an unobstructed view of the couple. "Hugh's interest in the charming Mrs. Randall will only last a few months. If they are not already lovers, they will be soon."

"How can you tell?" She was beginning to feel sick again.

The marchioness gestured at the couple. "Little things, I suppose. Note how he has positioned himself so that no one can approach her without his permission. Hugh is clearly staking a claim. Oh, look, see how Mrs. Randall gazes shyly up at him? A clever lady appeals to a gentleman's protective nature."

Regan's eyes were beginning to sting. Lady Pashley was not exaggerating. There was an intensity to Dare's stance. He was staring at Mrs. Randall as if she were the only lady in the room.

"How did you become such an expert on courtship?" Regan asked numbly.

"I am an expert on Hugh." Lady Pashley smiled at Regan's startled expression. "Do not look so surprised. Hugh is family. I do not expect you to know this since you were nothing more than a child; however, there was a time when I was forced to choose between Hugh and Charles."

And Dare had never quite forgiven her. His love for Lady Pashley had been grand and all-consuming; her decision to marry his brother had left Dare so bereft that he'd never since looked beyond sating his carnal needs with a legion of mistresses.

Regan swallowed the lump forming in her throat.