Chapter One
REGINA WEATHERS FELT the man watching her from across the ballroom again and wondered how she could feel a stare.
Despite her knowing full well he was watching, she looked over her shoulder to confirm it.
He held her eyes from behind silver-framed spectacles and smiled, giving her the strangest sensation that she knew him from somewhere.
But that was unlikely; her world was not so big that she would forget the people she interacted with.
Besides, as hostess for her niece’s engagement ball tonight, she knew everyone on the guest list and was certain that he had not been on that list. Perhaps he had come with someone who had received an invitation?
She turned her attention back to the conversation taking place between Mrs. Dalton and Regina’s older brother, Sir Timothy Weathers, regarding the recent changes to the parish church— a remodel that Timothy and Mrs. Dalton had donated funds for.
She would ignore the spectacled man and keep her focus on her guests and family who deserved her attention.
“I simply cannot wait to hear the new organ play,” Mrs. Dalton said, smiling in a way that even Regina— a spinster of thirty-two years with no romantic experience acceptable for conversation— could see was too effulgent for talk of the instrument.
“We will need to decide together what the first hymn will be once the repairs are finished; don’t you agree, Sir Timothy? ”
“Oh, I shall leave that choice to you, Madame,” Timothy said with a slight nod.
The man in spectacles moved into Regina’s field of vision and began talking with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. Regina thought that perhaps she would ask them about him later in the evening.
Timothy continued. “I am sure your tastes in music are far superior to mine, Mrs. Dalton. The only notes I can carry are the ones written on paper and tucked in a pocket.”
Mrs. Dalton laughed, and the others in the small group laughed, but Regina just smiled and wondered if her brother realized that Mrs. Dalton was flirting with him.
Again. In the months that the two had overseen the remodeling, Regina had noticed the increased attention the widow had shown him, but her brother had not seemed to.
Regina had been keeping house for Timothy these four years, ever since the passing of his wife.
Should he marry, the new Lady Weathers would take her rightful place in the household.
Regina would not be asked to leave, surely, but it would be best for her to remove herself anyway to allow the family to find their own way together.
Except that Regina had nowhere else to go.
It was difficult not to think of her circumstance as her fate was ultimately dependent on the graces of her family, but it would be unfair not to help her brother in any way she knew would bring him joy and security.
He had been so very good to her and was so adorably na?ve regarding the widow’s attentions.
“Mrs. Dalton,” Regina said, throwing her selfish caution to the wind, “perhaps your family would like to join us for supper sometime next week. I could watch over the children while you and my brother discuss the hymn.”
There was a breath of silence as everyone— except perhaps Timothy— seemed to realize the implied intent of Regina’s invitation. Within the private conference it could be adequately expected that they would discuss things beyond than hymnal discussions.
Mrs. Dalton’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she smiled gratefully at Regina before turning her attention to Timothy. “Would that be acceptable, Mr. Weathers?” The peach-colored ostrich feather attached to her satin cap shivered in anticipation of his answer.
“Of course.” Timothy’s smile was nearly as wide as the widow’s, stretching across his face, which even at forty-three years of age was handsome. Regina’s heart warmed at his reaction. Yes, seeing her brother happily settled would be a grand thing.
When her dear friend Camilla approached, Regina excused herself, and they were soon arm and arm walking the edge of the ballroom, surveying the décor, and commenting on the attendees.
It seemed that everyone of their class within ten miles had come tonight, and Regina could not help but take pride in the success of the evening thus far.
She did love to entertain, and the engagement of her niece Julia— Timothy’s eldest child— was ample reason to do so.
Regina was saying how much she would miss Julia when she noticed the man in the spectacles again. He was no longer talking to the Wilsons; once again he watched Regina, from the far side of the room. She looked away, increasingly anxious about his attention.
Though she was dressed in a new ball gown, it was not so fine as to warrant such attention: emerald satin with silver overlay and white gloves.
She was wearing her mother’s diamond pendant and silver earbobs, which dangled nearly to her shoulders but her appearance was not remarkable in a room filled with women dressed to the extreme with elaborate gowns, hats, and jewelry too flamboyant for her own, more subdued, style.
For a moment, she wondered if the man’s attention could be nefarious— perhaps he was a jewel thief or scoundrel— but why would a scoundrel lie in wait for anyone at a country ball?
Or stare with such intent as to give himself away?
Regina shook away her thoughts of the strange man; this was not the time to give in to such distraction.
Since she was responsible for the comfort of her guests; she needed her senses completely engaged.
When the first strains of the orchestra sounded with a traditional minuet, starting the dancing portion of the evening, a hush fell over the audience. Guests cleared from the center of the ballroom and began casting looks about, in search of partners.
“Will you dance tonight?” Camilla asked as they watched the first couples take the floor.
“Not tonight,” Regina answered. Though she liked to dance, she often felt awkward when asked, as though the gentleman was asking because he, or his wife, felt sorry for her spinster status.
Tonight, however, she had an excuse to say no, and even better, an excuse to be so busy that no one looked upon her with the usual pity.
“I must look in on the kitchens. If you’ll excuse me, Camilla. ”
“Of course,” her friend said, already moving to the edge of the dance floor. “If you should need me, I shall be dancing.” She smiled pointedly, and Regina smiled back.
Camilla was but twenty-four. Not quite on the shelf as Regina was, but certainly past what would be considered prime marrying age.
Camilla maintained that whether she married or not, it was no matter to her.
Regina often claimed the same. Better to be content in one’s place, she told herself, whenever regret seeped in.
That she had ever expected a different future was something she thought on but rarely, what good did it do to think on what hadn’t been?
Regina moved toward the door but actually quitting the room took her several minutes due to so many guests wanting to compliment her on the evening, but finally she pushed through the door and into the hallway, which almost sounded silent compared to the ballroom, though she could still hear music and laughter through the door.
She had taken three steps when she heard the door open behind her.
She looked over her shoulder in time to see the man with spectacles slip into the hallway behind her.
She turned toward him in surprise and raised a hand to her throat.
His hair was dark brown and curly, with strands of grey here and there, but it was his eyes behind the spectacles that drew her attention.
They were green and intent and... familiar?
“Sir,” she said in reprimand, her heart pounding as she remembered her suspicions of him being a thief or a scoundrel. “I must insist that you—”
He moved toward her, reaching out as though to take her hands.
She crossed her arms and scrambled backward, staying out of his reach.
He came to a stop, and his smile fell. The same sense of familiarity tugged at her mind once again, but in a way that made her think that she’d only dreamed him, as though her potential memory of him was not real.
“You look beautiful, Reggie.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes went wide.
With the nickname came a hundred memories of it being said on those very lips.
Those lips she had longed for, pined for, and ultimately cried for and then forgotten.
Or so she told herself. The hallway swirled, and Regina reached out to the wall to brace herself, knocking a picture frame askew as she did.
“Ross?” The name had once felt like sugar in her mouth.
His face— older but increasingly familiar— lit up on hearing his name. With his smile came the shadow of the straw-haired, gangly boy he’d been fifteen years ago, a face not as chiseled and weathered. She saw him as he’d looked the last time they’d met by Hanson’s wall.
I’ll come back, Reggie. I promise I will, and then we’ll be together.”
Ross had not come back, and the reminder brought the same searing pain to her chest that loving him had caused her back then and in the years since.
She narrowed her eyes, lifted her chin, and pointed toward the front door.
Inside, she was shaking, but she knew how to hide her thoughts and feelings.
Because of him, she’d learned the part well.
“You were not on the guest list, Mr. Martin, so I must insist that you leave. This instant.”