"Oh, I was not aware that you had spoken to Dare at the ball."

She pointedly ignored the question in her brother's tone. "The only thing he was not clear on was the why of it. Has something happened to his family's town house? Was there a fire?"

Frost stifled a yawn with his hand. "Charles and Allegra arrived in town a fortnight past. Dare ordered his possessions packed the same day."

"Good heavens. So Dare and his older brother are still fighting after all these years," Regan murmured.

The animosity between Dare and Charles was scarcely a secret, although few knew the whole story. Regan had overheard bits and pieces of the tale when she was a child. Eleven years ago, Dare, then six and ten, had fallen in love with the Earl of Dyton's daughter, Lady Allegra. Initially the lady had favored Dare with her love, until Charles started to court her. Dare was the son of a duke, but he was the second son. When Dare learned that Lady Allegra had chosen Charles over him, the two brothers had come to blows. With the Duke of Rhode's blessing, Charles and Allegra were married. The same year, Allegra gave birth to a daughter. According to Frost, the marriage between Charles and Allegra was an unhappy one. In the eleven years that had passed, Allegra had failed to produce an heir for her husband.

Before Regan had been banished from London, she had often heard Vane, Sin, and the others taunting Dare about his dedication to the lady who had chosen the heir over the second son. Some thought he was still in love with Allegra. When Regan was a child, the observation seemed dreadfully romantic.

As a grown woman, she wanted to throttle Lady Pashley for breaking Dare's heart. The marchioness had ruined the man for all other women. Regan started when Frost touched her on the arm. "I beg your pardon. Forgive me, I was not paying attention."

"Did you not sleep well, my dear?" Frost said, his expression softening with sympathy. "I said that Dare's parents, the Duke and Duchess of Rhode, are also in residence, but their presence has done little to alleviate the growing hostility between Charles and Allegra, or quell the marquess's drunken tirades. Allegra has been sending messengers to the town house daily, demanding Dare's assistance."

Regan brought her hand up to her throat and stroked the unexpected tightness. "Has Dare been responding to Lady Pashley's notes?"

Pride flashed across her brother's handsome face. "Dare has ordered them all to be tossed into the fire. Nevertheless, the gent will eventually surrender to Allegra's demands." Frost scowled and glanced at his hands. "The bitch has her tender hooks in Dare, and he cannot seem to break free. I had such high hopes when Dare began to show some interest in the widow."

"The widow," Regan said, her voice cracking. Dare was courting a widow?

"Mrs. Randall." Oblivious to his sister's quiet distress, Frost absently patted her hand and stood. "The lady has set her sights on Dare, and I wager he will stumble into her bed before the season has ended. Even if I have to give him a hard shove."

Very little had changed, indeed. "Maybe Dare prefers not to be shoved into the lady's bed, brother."

Frost gaped at her before he hooted with laughter. "You have grown into such a little prude, sweet sister. The beautiful widow is not fettered with concerns about her reputation. Dare would be a fool to refuse her."

Chapter Eight.

Once Regan had arrived, Dare had not lingered at the Bishops' town house. He had thought Frost and his sister deserved some time alone to get reacquainted. There was also the small matter of the kiss he and Regan had shared at the Quintons' ball. Although it had been pleasant, Dare had no intention of encouraging Regan.

Even though he could not stop dwelling on the kiss.

Now Dare glanced across the table at Regan. Her eyes on her plate, she was silently buttering a thick slice of toast. Fifteen minutes earlier, she had joined him and Frost in the morning room and greeted them both with a polite smile. As Regan had walked by Dare, he had found himself tensing. However, she had paused only long enough to give her brother a swift kiss on the cheek before she moved on to the empty chair the footman had pulled out for her.

She seemed too preoccupied with her toast and hot chocolate to look up from her plate.

Despite the silence, Regan seemed to have forgiven Frost for his high-handedness five years ago when he had sent her away. Dare was happy for them both. On the surface, Frost did not seem to love anyone but himself. Still, Dare had caught his friend staring at his sister. Frost had felt the absence in his life while Regan was away at school. Both brother and sister had suffered, though neither one would have appreciated the observation.

Dare sipped his coffee and thought about his brother, Charles. He could not think of a single moment when affection played a part in their relationship. For reasons Dare could not fathom, Charles had always loathed him. Even when they were boys, they had fought as if they were bitter rivals. It was only after he had lost Allegra to Charles that Dare had ceased to care.

"Another summons from Lady Pashley arrived this morning," Frost said, not glancing up from his newspaper.

Regan looked askance from Frost to Dare, but said nothing.

Dare carefully put down his cup before he gave in to temptation and threw it against the closest wall. "Did you read it?"

"Naturally," Frost said, unapologetic for his actions. "And then I ordered Landers to burn it as you had instructed."

For several minutes, nothing could be heard but Regan's quiet chewing and the occasional clink of china.

Giving in to his curiosity, Dare said, "And?"

Frost took his time answering the simple question as he folded his paper and placed it on the table. "It appears Charles ran into a little trouble last evening, and your mother has taken to her bed. Allegra has asked for your assistance."

Dare nodded, unsurprised. Over the years, he had received similar summons. His brother and trouble were entwined. While his father made excuses, his mother took to her bed. Everyone in his family seemed to leave Allegra to him, which he might have found amusing if the lady in question had not betrayed him.

"When you answer your family's imperial summons, you should take Regan with you."

Both Dare and Regan stared at Frost as if he had sprouted horns on his forehead.

Dare was the first to recover. "I am certain Regan has other plans," he said quickly.

Regan glanced down into her cup of hot chocolate as if she could divine answers from its rich depths.

Frost did not seem to be aware of the tension in the morning room. "Regan has always liked a challenge. Besides, it sounds like you may need her help. She might be just the person to coax your mother out of bed, and discourage Allegra from luring you into hers."

Regan struck her silver spoon against the side of her cup of hot chocolate with such force, it bounced off the table and hit the floor with a clatter. "Very clumsy of me," she mumbled, then disappeared behind the table linen.

"Allow me, milady," one of the young footmen said as he rushed to retrieve her spoon.

"My apologies." Regan's face was red from her brief excursion under the table. She cleared her throat. "Ah, what were you saying, Frost?"

"You are escorting Dare to his parents' town house." The decision made, Frost pushed back from the table and stood. "Make sure Allegra does not try to keep him," he said, winking at his speechless sister.

With the assistance of the maid Frost had procured for her, it had taken Regan thirty minutes to dress and join Dare downstairs. His mischief done, Frost had disappeared to pursue his own interests. What heartened Regan was Dare's reaction as she descended the stairs. She had donned her favorite olive-green zephyrine pelisse with gold rosettes adorning her hips. Her full skirt was made of a lighter hue, and the bottom was a charming blend of zephyrine and satin panels. The bonnet had been created in the capuchin style. It was covered in gold and white gros de Naples, with white rosebuds and greenery tastefully displayed on the low brim. Dare had stared at her, his keen gaze hungrily noting every aspect of her dress, including her gold kid boots. Regan felt her heart pound in response.

What would you do if I brazenly kissed you, my lord?

"I feel as if I should apologize for your brother's behavior," Dare said moments after they had settled in his coach.

His words dispelled the warmth she had been feeling since his ardent perusal.

"Why should you apologize when Frost is rarely repentant for his deeds?" Regan resisted the urge to sigh. "Besides, my brother is correct. You are a dear friend of our family, and if my presence will help to calm your mother and ease the awkwardness between you and Lady Pashley, it would be unkind of me to refuse."

Dare pinched his brow as if in pain. "Unkind? Regan, you are not intimate with the word. Frost has his flaws, but he has sheltered you from most of the cruelty of the world."

Regan did not bother to respond. Lady Karmack had often complained that Regan had been raised in a wild, careless manner that risked both her physical and mental well-being. With Frost as her guardian, she had been exposed to cursing gents, half-naked wenches, and more mischievous pranks than most ladies see in several lifetimes. Oh, Frost had done his best to shield her from much of the debauchery, but she had been too curious for her own good. Nevertheless, Dare was correct when he said that she had been sheltered from cruelty and the unsavory aspects of life. She had always felt safe with the Lords of Vice.

"You have not asked about Lady Pashley."

Regan tilted her head so she could study Dare's austere profile. "She is family. You do not have to speak of it."

Bitter laughter filled the compartment of the coach. "So you are aware of the history between me and Allegra. Who told you? Frost?"

Regan glanced away, deciding that she preferred the activity on the street to Dare's hot, challenging stare. "I was a curious nine-year-old when you and your brother fought over Lady Allegra. Your friends were concerned and spoke freely of the incident."

"Hmm."

Belatedly Regan realized that Dare was likely shamed that she knew pieces of his unpleasant history with Lady Pashley. "Although I had only gleaned bits and pieces of story, I was angry on your behalf. I wanted to pick up Frost's sword and skewer your brother for stealing Lady Allegra from you."

Dare gave her an incredulous look before he tossed his head back and laughed. The bitterness she had detected earlier had vanished as his humor resurfaced. "You have always been a spitfire," he said, shaking his head in amazement. "And what plans did you have for Allegra?"

The nine-year-old Regan had wanted to cut off her long blond tresses and roll her in hot tar. Miss Swann would definitely not approve. Ashamed of the bloodthirsty thoughts of her younger self, she said, "I was planning to rescue her from your brother. Then Lady Allegra could marry you."

She started when Dare unexpectedly took her face with both hands. His right thumb traced her lower lip. "Who knew you possessed such a romantic heart?" He lowered his head and kissed her lightly on the mouth. There was nothing sensual about the kiss. It was almost reverent. Butterfly wings would have exerted more pressure, she thought, as he released her and stretched his legs.

"Do you know why my family calls me Dare?"

Uncertain of his mood, Regan warily shook her head.

Dare removed his hat and combed his hair with his fingers. "The rivalry between Charles and I began almost from my birth. When I was a boy, there was rarely a week when I wasn't sporting a blackened eye or a scrape on my chin. My father encouraged competitiveness. The future Duke of Rhode needed to be battle-ready for his duties, and ruthlessly beat any weakness he glimpsed in his sons. Charles shared our sire's enthusiasm for violence, and often invented reasons to raise his fists against me."

"How dreadful!" she gasped. No matter how much she had aggravated her brother, he had never struck her with his fists.

Dare grinned at what he viewed as a very feminine reaction from her. "I lost most of those early battles with my brother. I was clearly the weaker opponent. Nevertheless, my father continued to encourage my brother because he sensed something that I could not."

"Which was?"

His blue-gray gaze hardened. "That I was getting stronger. Those beatings from Charles were honing my fighting skills and toughening my body. It was during my eleventh year that I knocked my brother to the ground, stepped on his forearm, and broke it."

If Dare was expecting Regan to be sickened by his brutality, he would be disappointed. "Good!"

Amused, he shook his head at her grim satisfaction. "My father was very pleased, too. While the surgeon was setting Charles's arm, my father dubbed me Dare. My courage and unwillingness to surrender to a stronger opponent had filled my sire with pride. I dare had become my personal motto."

"After your victory, did the fights with your brother continue?" Unconsciously, Regan reached for his hand, and then realized that Dare might mistake it for pity. When she tried to pull away, Dare captured her hand and placed their clasped hands on his upper right thigh.

"My father's pride in me only deepened Charles's animosity. Childish pranks gave way to imaginary offenses that led to-"

Lady Allegra.

Of course, Charles would view the lady who held Dare's heart as a delectable prize to be fought over and claimed out of spite.

"Your brother and his wife have caused you much pain," she said, very aware of the heat emanating from Dare's gloved palm. "Why do you bother heeding the summons at all?"

"Duty, honor ... loyalty to my family." Dare gestured vaguely with his left hand. "I told you the origins of my nickname not to gain your pity, but to help you understand that I earned it. In truth, I am no better than any of them. It is best that you remember that fact."

Dare gently disengaged his hand from hers and stared out the window.

Chapter Nine.

With Regan at his side, Dare eschewed the front door of the Moredare residence and entered from one of the side entrances. This was not a formal visit; nor did he want to give Allegra a chance to play lady of the house in front of Regan.

The notion of the two women conversing in the drawing room unsettled him. Frost should not have meddled in Dare's affairs, but he silently admitted that Regan could be useful to him.

A discreet side glance revealed that the pity shimmering in Regan's liquid blue eyes had faded. Good. He preferred the lady who wanted to skewer Charles for his misdeeds.

The Mordares' butler, Maffy, rounded the corner and almost collided with them. "Good heavens, Lord Hugh! You gave me a fright." Since the apron he was wearing seemed inappropriate attire when a guest was in the house, Maffy promptly began to untie the strings.

"Do not bother making a fuss, Maffy. Lady Regan is a friend, and our visit is informal in nature." He rolled his eyes upward to the ceiling. "Is my mother still abed?"

The servant nodded wearily. "Yes, milord. Cook tried to tempt Her Grace with a tray laden with her favorites, but it was returned untouched. Lady Louise is visiting with her now."

"Lady Louise?" Regan inquired politely.

"Louise is my niece," Dare said as they strolled across the marble flooring of the front hall. "Maffy, you may return to your duties. Lady Regan and I shall pay our respects to my mother. Perhaps we can nudge her out of bed." He paused, dreading the answer to his next question. "Where is Lady Pashley?"

"Here."

The Marchioness of Pashley was elegantly poised at the top of the staircase. "You are late, Hugh," she said, her gaze narrowing on Regan. "We were expecting you hours ago."

"I had business that needed my attention," Dare lied.

"Maffy, be so kind as to escort Lady Regan upstairs," Allegra said, confirming that she had been eavesdropping from her lofty perch on the stairs. "I am certain Her Grace will welcome a fresh sympathetic ear while Hugh and I discuss private matters."

It was just the type of imperial summons that usually chafed Dare. On the other hand, he was willing to endure the brief private meeting if his obedience would keep Regan away from Allegra.

The Duchess of Rhode told Maffy she was indeed receiving visitors when she learned that Regan had come to see her.

"Come closer, girl. Let me look at you," Her Grace said, beckoning Regan to approach the tall bed.

It was an impressive throne of seventeen feet of cream-colored Mantua silk and crimson Chinese damask. Maffy had explained that the bed had been built for James II in the late 1660s, and was considered a prized possession in the Mordare family.

Regan reached the side of the bed and curtsied. "Good afternoon, Your Grace. I pray I am not intruding."

"Little Regan," the duchess said, taking both of Regan's hands and giving them an affectionate squeeze before she released them. "Sit down ... sit down. Oh, my, how you have grown! I believe the last time that I set my eyes on you, you were about our Louise's age." She clapped her hands to gain her granddaughter's attention. "Louise, child, put down the book and greet our guest properly."

Eleven-year-old Louise shut her book with all the enthusiasm of a condemned criminal. If one overlooked the sullen expression, she was a beautiful child. Wearing a white muslin dress with three scalloped flounces at the hem, Dare's niece approached from the other side of the bed, her light blond ringlets bouncing merrily against rosy cheeks.