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 the 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.

Even so, when he invoked his father's name, he was admitted into the club. Dare could not understand his good fortune until he saw his father. He was sitting alone at a table and appeared to be quite drunk.

"Father." Without waiting for an invitation, Dare sat down at the table. "How long have you been here? I have searched all of London for you today."

"Not all, my dear boy ... not all." He raised his hand and signaled for one of the waiters. "A glass for my son. And another bottle of brandy."

Dare waited until the glass and bottle were produced, and the waiter left them alone. "Allegra summoned me to the house."

The duke blinked. Christ, were those tears in his father's bloodshot eyes? "Allegra ... oh, my dear poor Allegra," he said, shaking his head. "How does she fare?"

"I have not seen her since this morning. Needless to say, she was battered and frightened." Dare kept his voice low, but he wanted to shout at his sire. "What in the hell happened last night? Where is Charles?"

"Charles." His father rubbed his eyes. "I do not know. I lost him in the darkness. I searched, and searched ... finally, I ended up here."

Dare leaned forward. "Father, we have to find him. Hire a Runner if necessary."

The duke's gaze widened as panic chased away his exhaustion. "This is Charles whom we are discussing. Not some lowborn criminal. No, no Runners. We will find him ourselves."

Dare gripped the edge of the table. "Need I remind you that Charles almost murdered his wife? Neither one of us can vouch for his mental state, though we both know that he has gotten worse."

"Charles has always been spirited. No more than you." His father poured more brandy into his glass. Most of it missed the glass and formed a large puddle on the table. "We should have remained at Rooks House. Charles never does well in London. Too many distractions."

Dare brought his hand to his lips and pinched his lower lip as if he could prevent himself from speaking the words that needed to be said. It did not help. He pointed a finger at his father. "Charles isn't spirited, Father. He is angry, violent, and often cruel to the people who love him. He hurt Allegra last night, and there is a chance that he has attacked other women," Dare said, not wondering for the first time if Mrs. Randall had been the victim of a random robbery. Then there was the incident with Regan.

His thought drifted back to the afternoon in the library when Charles had overheard Dare arguing with their father about him. Dare had said that Charles could not keep his bloody cock in his trousers. His brother had entered the library and replied, Funny, the same can be said about you, little brother.

At the time, Dare had thought his brother was referring to Allegra. What if he had been wrong? What if Charles had known about Dare's pursuit of Mrs. Randall ... and Regan. Dear God, what if Charles had been the one to push Regan into the busy street.

"What are you talking about?" his father demanded harshly, drawing attention from a few of his fellow members.

Dare seized the older man's wrist when he reached for the bottle of brandy. "Sober up. Mother, Allegra, and Louise need you. If Charles returns to the house, you might want to think about locking him up in the cellar and summoning your physician."

The duke yanked his arm free and stood. "You have no right to speak to me in such a manner. I-" He thumped on his chest. "I, alone, know what's best for Charles. I don't need your help. Go home. Leave me in peace."

As Dare exited the club and headed for the hackney coach, he pondered his father's angry words. Go home, the duke had said.

It stung a little to silently admit that Dare didn't have one. Of course, the choice had been his, a symbol of his pleasure-seeking way of life and freedom from his family's demands and needs. Hooked into his soul like ballast, he had been dragged down into the unexplored depths of debauchery and indulgence.

Not that he had fought his downfall very hard.

Until recently, Dare had not understood how empty his life had been. He stared up at the blackness overhead, allowing the cool night air to wash over him. Slipping his hand into his frock coat, his gloved fingers brushed the edge of the paper he had tucked away in the inner pocket.

Perhaps it was time to lay claim to what truly belonged to him.

Chapter Twenty-six.

Something stirred Regan from her slumber. She opened her eyes and saw a shadowy figure leaning over her. Before she could take a deep breath to scream, a hand was clamped over her mouth.

"It's me." He peered at her. "Why are you in bed?"

When she realized that it was Dare, she moaned in relief.

"Whatever you do, don't scream."

Regan sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his palm.

Dare softly yelped and staggered backward. "Bloodthirsty woman," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Are you trying to wake the entire house?"

Regan climbed out of bed and walked over to her dressing table. She was wearing her nightgown, but Dare had seen her in less. "What are you doing here, Dare?" She lit the small oil lamp.

"I had to see you," he said, reaching for her.

She evaded him and went to the doors that opened to the balcony. She opened them and peered over the iron railing. "How did you get into the room?"

Dare kissed her on the neck. "The balcony."

Her forehead furrowed as she thought of the risk he had taken to reach her. Regan glanced over her shoulder. "You could have broken your foolish neck."

He spun her around and pulled her against his chest. "You are not the only one who can climb a balcony."

Dare kissed her before she could ask him how he had opened a locked door. The kiss was demanding, all-consuming. The bruising pressure of his mouth expressed his residual anger over their earlier parting as clearly as if he had spoken. In retaliation, she bit his lower lip and then eased the sting with her tongue.

"Christ, I've missed you," Dare murmured after he dragged some much-needed air into his lungs. His chin dropped to his chest as he began to work the bottom of her nightgown up her body. He groaned. "No, I should not be doing this."

Regan grabbed his wrists to prevent him from pulling her nightgown over her head. "Why are you? I thought you were staying away from me."

"You're right," he said abruptly, breaking her hold as he released the hem of her nightgown and smoothed the fabric over her hips.

"I am?" Insulted, Regan tried to shove Dare away, but he was as solid as a marble column. "If I had the strength, I would toss you over the balcony. How dare you sneak into my bedchamber like a thief and-"

Dare placed his hand over her mouth. "Hush, love. Do you want to bring the entire household down on my head?"

Regan nodded vehemently. Although she was certain it was too early for Frost to find his bed, she longed for her brother to give Dare the beating he deserved for trifling with her heart. Her words came out muffled, but Dare seemed to comprehend the direction of her thoughts.

Giving her an exasperated look, Dare leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. "You are a perplexing creature, Regan Alice. I'm doing my best to keep my hands off you, and you want to see me castrated for it." He removed his hand from her mouth and spun her around. "Now get dressed. We haven't much time to tarry."

Dare gave her backside a firm smack to emphasize their need for haste.

Regan whirled back around and seized him by the front of his dark evening coat. "And what gives you any right to order me about in my brother's house?"

She expelled a high-pitched squeak when Dare tugged her closer so that she was standing up on her toes. "What gives me the right? Arrogance. I'm stronger than you, and am willing to fight dirty to get what I want."

Regan sputtered at his outrageous boast. "That is not a reasonable answer!"

"Give me an hour, and I will have one for you."

"Oh, really," she said, angling her head so she could stare down her nose at him. It was difficult but she was angry enough to manage the small feat. "You do not need an hour to convince me. I already know you have the manners of a cross-eyed donkey."

Instead of an angry retort, Dare merely grinned at her. "Arguing with you would be a waste of breath. I intend to marry you, Regan."

His declaration managed to render Regan speechless.

At any other time, Dare might have savored the quiet. Now it was beginning to irk him.

Regan's soft kissable lips parted in mute surprise as her fierce grip on the front of his evening coat went boneless. If Dare didn't have his fingers wrapped around her upper arms, she might have landed on her delectable backside.

"Say something," he demanded, giving her a little shake.

Regan blinked. Wariness crept into her stunned expression. "You do not want to marry me."

"Care to wager on it? You'd lose."

Things were not going well. Instead of being happy, Regan looked confused and a little sad. His ribs felt like they were going to rupture if the pressure continued to build in his chest.