Scandalous: The Abcynians, #4

By Frances Stockton

The Royal Advisor to the King of the Abcynians, Nicholas, Duke of Arrington, is inscrutable, lofty, and elusive. A widower with two grown sons and no intention of remarrying, he never expects to meet Miss Regan Saunders while walking through Parade Gardens. Aware that she's his destined mate, he's fascinated. For not only is she prepared to push the boundaries of society's expectations of a gentlewoman to become a doctor, she's an Abcynian Guard, therefore, capable of protecting his and his family's secrets.

Due to horrific betrayal by his first duchess, he believes it's best to court her with the utmost discretion to avoid a scandal that could lead to her ruination. Nevertheless, when Regan becomes the target of a macabre killer, Nicholas will stop at nothing to protect her, including marriage.

Despite the rushed circumstances, it isn't long before they open their hearts, falling in love, neither aware that an assassin has been plotting with an ancient adversary to destroy the Abcynians for centuries. To expose the truth, they'll risk everything they hold dear to stop a predator before it's too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frances Stockton
• Release date: Aug 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393723219

Frances Stockton

My love for storytelling began when I created my first fictional characters, mischievous, identical twin brothers, in kindergarten. Years later, I started to write, completing my first handwritten manuscript when I was in middle school. I confess, the heroine was a cross between a contemporary Laura Ingalls Wilder and Nancy Drew, but when I wrote ‘the end’ I knew I had more stories to tell.  Of course, life intervened, but whether I was in high school, college, working a variety of jobs on my path to earning a degree in History and Secondary Education, I was always writing and reading romances. Finally, I joined RWA and the New England Chapter, becoming an author with Ellora’s Cave until the publisher closed its doors. Now, I am writing under my own name and loving every minute of it. I truly enjoy hearing from readers. Please let me know what you think at [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter One

April—1784—Bath, England

Walking amongst the early spring foliage of Parade Gardens, Regan Saunders couldn’t stem the sensation that her life was about to change.

Are you all right, Regan? I’ve never known you to be so quiet, Lady Ashton Forrester inquired, her innate panthera senses likely detecting something was amiss. 

My apologies for being distant. Dare I confide something that cannot go beyond the two of us?

You’ve my word as a Forrester, it will go no further. 

I believe I’ve a way to obtain a man’s body, she revealed, being certain to keep her voice calm and confident, for she’d long since learned that reticence could prompt suspicion amongst Abcynian kind.

Drawing to a halt, Ashton faced Regan, the look on her face incredulous. Regan, as much as I adore you, you cannot obtain a body. What would you do with it?

Study male anatomy in preparation for going to medical school, of course, she answered, a sudden, displeased growl reverberated in Regan’s ears, making the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stand up.

Glancing back to make certain Lord and Lady Danford strolled behind them at a respectful distance, she didn’t think they’d overheard. As far as she could tell, they were speaking amongst themselves, perhaps distracted by the upcoming evening.

Be careful, should my father hear of your wish, he’d not only forbid you to continue being a healer and midwife for Abcynians, he’d likely send you to your parents in shame.

I’m aware of the trouble I’m courting, but if spinsterhood or banishment to America is the price that I must pay to become a doctor, it is worth the risk.

Exactly how do you plan to attend medical school? Ashton asked, sounding concerned.

If I were to learn the complexities of the male physique, I could disguise myself as one, Regan said, gently grasping her friend’s elbow.

Disguise yourself as...a man, you mean? Wearing a day gown of rose and yellow, Ashton’s beauty was certain to draw a man’s eye, which was the purpose for the Forrester family’s visit to Bath.

Aye, if necessary.

Don’t be a goose! Even if you were to cut off all your hair again, you could never hide that you’re indeed female.

The loss of my hair meant nothing. It grew back, Regan argued, the nature of the unmistakable growl in her ear forcing her to draw up straight and search beyond the garden’s pathway.

Regan, you’re making me quite nervous. As much as I respect your abilities to heal our kind, you must realize this planning of yours is impossible.

Need I remind you Abcynians have defied the impossible for centuries.

When are you leaving me then? Ashton asked, seeming genuinely alarmed. 

Not anytime soon, I assure you. Once you marry, I shall retire as your companion and find a way to follow my dreams. 

I hope you become all that you want to be, truly. I do wonder if you’ve thought of finding a mate. Lord Raybourne is eligible.

Nay, the spinsterish daughter of a baronet would not make a suitable wife to one as high on the instep as he.

Ah, what of a doctor? Ashton asked, the look on her face suggesting she knew something Regan did not.

Whatever do you mean?

Suffice it to say, I’ve someone to introduce you to at the dance this evening.

Someone?

Do you remember Edison Chambers?

Yes, we studied art together at Wolcott, she admitted, holding her tongue regarding the fact that she’d experienced her one and only kiss with Edison when she’d studied at Wolcott. It’d been rather chaste and clumsy, but when she’d confided in Rhiannon over pianoforte lessons, she’d been advised not to find herself alone with him again.

As I recall, he pulled your hair a time or two,

As did your brother Hayden.

This is true, though not only has Edison grown up, he’s Dante and Rhiannon Luciano’s physician and Abcynian Guard.

How is it you’ve come to know he has come to Bath?

My brother told me over breakfast.

While I am open to becoming reacquainted with Dr. Chambers, I cannot promise anything more than a dance, were it to be allowed.

My father will permit it. Although, I’ve reason to believe he’s someone else in mind for you.

That’s nonsense, I’ve given no reason for him to meddle in such things.

Must I remind you that as advanced as Abcynian men can be, women are still subject to the rules and expectations of English society.

Determined not to think of what it would mean to gain a suitor, Regan hurried on only to be struck with a terrible headache. Stumbling, her foot ended up caught by something. Trying to free herself, she couldn’t until the pain within her temples eased and an unseen hand took her elbow, steadying her.

Looking about for her savior, she saw no one, his touch surreal even as she realized a sprig of ivy had coiled about her ankle. Nay, it wasn’t a man whose touch she felt but could not see. It was her imagination, the stir of orange blossoms and chocolate wafting through the air was nothing more than early spring flowers and exotic plants.

Are you all right, Regan? Lady Ashton asked.

I am fine, thank you. Stumbled a bit, she answered, freeing herself from the ivy and dusting her skirts with her hands. What were we talking about?

You and Lord Raybourne.

Weren’t we speaking of Dr. Chambers?

"Aye, not long ago. But, thinking on it, you’d admitted once to hearing Lord Raybourne speak in your mind. Many of the Elders believe that is the Creator’s way of revealing our mates."

Nay, I’d merely overheard Lord Raybourne tell my father that he was going to spend time with his brother’s family in Boston. Back then, he’d been known as Valentine. Since his return, he’s decided to use the name of his birth, Valiant.

There, you see, you know much about him.

How could I not? His other half is considered the Crown Prince of our kind. To think he’d even remember the daughter of a partially converted Abcynian Guard would be as unlikely as giving up my quest to become a doctor to marry a...duke!

Ah, so it is a duke you long for, I shall have to think on this, Ashton declared, her smile hinting at the mischievous half of her closest friend.

Let us table this discussion before your parents begin to suspect we’re up to something. Urging her friend to continue walking, Regan tried to ignore the sense of awareness of herself, of the fact that though she was debating disguising herself as a man to become a doctor, she was a woman who’d grown tired of being alone.

More so, she became aware that the man who’d rescued her from falling earlier remained nearby, observing them. As she did not sense danger to Lady Ashton or herself, she did her best to ignore him, though sensed he wasn’t accustomed to a woman doing so.

I’ve been thinking, Ashton revealed.

About? Regan inquired.

How you intend to obtain a body, Ashton answered.

Aye, a much safer topic than the complexities of suitors. I’m hoping to commission Dante Luciano to sculpt one for me out of wax, she revealed, receiving an audible gasp that caused her to look over at her friend.

Complete with innards and organs and everything that makes a man, a man?

That is my aim. Last evening, I’d read about various methods to learn anatomy.

You mean it. You really intend to find a way to get into medical school. What of marrying and having children of your own? You love babies, Regan. When we were little, you used to say you’d wanted a big family.

Women can get pregnant outside of wedlock, she murmured, the scent of oranges and chocolate becoming more and more noticeable, distracting her. As much as she loved chocolate, living amongst full-blooded Abcynians prevented her from indulging, for it made them terribly ill.

Perhaps whomever saved her from a tumble was a Guard, such as herself? Nay, she couldn’t allow herself to believe that. If she were to marry, her husband would forbid her to become a doctor, even if it were Dr. Chambers nearby.

I am not a physician, nor are you. Cease this conversation with your companion or I shall have your guardian forbid you to step outside for a fortnight.

Leave me be, beast!

Then you are aware of who I am to you.

I am aware that because of Lucien Montgomery’s decree, I have the right to defy you.

Try and see what happens. We shall meet soon. Be ready.

I’d rather eat herring, which I detest more than arrogant, loathsome men.

Wincing as the voice in her mind became a fierce, rumbling roar unlike any she’d known before, Regan, usually sure-footed, nearly stumbled again. Is your father growling at us, Lady Ashton?

I don’t believe so. Ashton halted and swung about. Is something amiss, father?

Not that I’m aware of, Lord Danford answered, looking down at the Countess, a rare grin forming on his handsome face. Although, your mother and I were wondering if the two of you were trying to avoid attending tonight’s ball.

Ashton shook her head. We’re looking forward to it, truly.

I should hope so, Lady Danford said, her strawberry blonde hair hidden beneath a curled brunette wig. With her medium height, freckled skin, and expressive brown eyes, she was lovely in a pale blue walking gown and Ashton resembled her mother.

Your father has been considering eligible gentlemen for you to meet this evening, Ashton.

I look forward to meeting them. What of Regan, will she be permitted to dance?

Of course, Lord Danford replied. Do remember your father entrusted your wellbeing into my keeping. I take that responsibility with honor.

You are gracious, my lord, Regan replied, the roaring mercifully stopping.

Just then two men came about the corner, the scents of chocolate and oranges becoming stronger, more enticing. Homing in on the older of the pair, she couldn’t deny her fascination.

Merciful heavens, he was impressive in both face and form. His attire, consisting of a green waistcoat, black breeches, white clocked stockings, dark shoes, and sable-brown wig, was impeccable. The silver-handled walking stick in his hand adorned in blue jewels. Too late, it occurred to her that she was studying the cut of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the patrician nose of a man so beautiful, he could only be compared to one of the archangel’s painted on the ceiling of a chapel.

Regan could not see the color of the man’s eyes from the distance, but a sudden longing to rush forward just to learn if they were brown or green forced her to remain very, very still. Goodness, something odd was tightening deep down inside of her womb, her quim dampening, her awareness of herself as a woman acute. 

Is that His Grace the Duke of Arrington walking beside Lord Raybourne, father? Ashton wondered aloud, causing Regan to remember her place and look down.

Aye, it is. Wait. We’ll see if he is receptive to an introduction.

It was Lord Raybourne that broke the tension, his warm, booming laugh drawing her eyes from the ground to him. Lady Danford came to stand with her daughter and Regan as Lord Danford walked toward the men, their conversation hushed, their manners gentlemanly.

The Marquess was the epitome of Abcynian royalty and English aristocracy in a blue and silver coat with white breeches, stockings, and polished shoes. In truth, he’d not aged much since she’d seen him last, though his shoulders had widened, his chest more defined, his face almost too beautiful to behold. His crown of blond hair bound by a fashionable wig.

Whatever was said between the men caused His Grace to nod and an entourage of men adorned in identical brown livery and wigs appeared out of nowhere to flank him as he and Lord Raybourne strode forward at Lord Danford’s behest.

Amazingly, the Duke, though not quite as tall as Lord Raybourne, seemed immense, muscular, reminding her of a beautiful predator who walked with the precision and innate grace of a panther. Beyond understanding how, Regan realized he was full-blooded Abcynian, though he was much different than the Forrester or Montgomery families, whose panthera pardus and panthera leo ancestries tended to blend easily.

This man was set apart, aloof, whether by personality or the sovereignty of his lofty title, she knew not. Could it be that panthera tigris Abcynians had been living amongst Englishmen for as long as the others?

In her youth, she’d heard her father speak of one man whose lineage had been panthera tigris, the pilot of the ship captained by Lord Raybourne’s brother, Adrian Montgomery. What was his name? Blakemore, Gabriel Blakemore. 

Belatedly aware that Lady Ashton had become as mute as she, Regan glanced at her charge. Dear goodness if the daughter of an earl could not find her tongue in His Grace’s presence, how could anyone expect her to?

By miracle, he remained cordial, patient, as if he could stand there all day and neither move nor speak a word. Then his sapphire eyes rimmed with sooty lashes, so unlike those of the full-blooded Abcynians she’d known before, flickered over her face and figure, the heat in his gaze making her flushed.

Then the growling in her ears resumed, this time she knew it came from His Grace the Duke of Arrington.

Mesmerized, Regan waited for recognition.

* * * * *

Before their introduction, Nicholas had known Miss Saunders’ voice in his mind had identified her as the one the Creator had chosen for him.

Despite what he knew, ducal responsibility demanded he tread carefully to avoid placing her in a compromising position. For the beast within was already itching to come forth, to prowl, to provide, and warn any unmated male within her proximity to keep a respectable distance.

With her curious emerald eyes and unpowdered auburn tresses looped in braids at her nape, the regal and Gaelic origin of her given name seemed apropos. Though he’d prefer to see her adorned in emeralds and gowns that accented her height and pleasing form rather than the modest brown attire of a lady’s companion. Her face, quite pretty and fair with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, was free of tinctures or powders. 

Verily, in his lifetime, he’d bedded courtesans, widows, dowagers, and mistresses. When he was as young and defiant as his eldest son, he’d been content to walk where heirs to dukedoms dared not. Two hundred years ago, he’d been summoned home upon learning of his sister’s passing and returned to England to handle the dukedom upon his father’s decision to go into seclusion, where he’d die not long after.

Nothing in his seven hundred years of existence prepared him for the impact of Miss Regan Saunders’ green eyes alighting on him with the impact of a physical touch. To hear her discussing male bodies, disguises, and attending medical school had been a miracle and a curse.

A miracle because he’d never known a sweeter sound than her mesmeric voice calming the periodic headaches that he endured to keep his cantankerous beast at bay. A curse because she was courting a scandal his title may not protect her from.

Guarding his thoughts to avoid frightening her, he moved his walking stick from his right to left hand. The bergamot, orange blossom, and cacao incense within aiding to mask his scent from Abcynians he’d yet to meet and to keep humans from realizing that he wasn’t quite like them. 

Do you not find the architecture of Bath fascinating, Your Grace? Lady Ashton asked, her voice, similar in timbre to Lady Danford’s, identified her panthera pardus lineage.

Very much, as there’s been a concerted effort by the Woods and likeminded architects to break away from the square. What of you, Miss Saunders?

Surprisingly, she did not respond. Rather, she’d shifted too close to Raybourne for the tiger’s liking. Pinching his nose to stem his need to bare his teeth at his closest ally, he allowed himself to communicate with her the only way he could right then.

Remain at a respectful distance from Lord Raybourne, Miss Saunders.

Valiant is a dear family friend, he will not mind my regard.

It is not the Marquess who objects. You will do well to remember to use his title when in public.

Leave me be.

I can no more do so than I can cease the lure of the full moon.

Are you enjoying your stay in Bath, Miss Saunders? he said aloud, knowing her attention had returned to him. 

Lifting her strong chin, she faced him, the lack of artifice a welcome surprise. Very much, Your Grace. Pray forgive my inattentiveness, as I have not seen Lord Raybourne since I was sixteen and was wondering at the coincidence.

Do explain, he urged, if only to hear her voice aloud, as the sound was dulcet, easing him in a way no other woman had ever done. 

My father once sailed with Adrian Montgomery. Correct me if I’m wrong, my lord, but didn’t you recently return?

Miss Saunders speaks the truth. I trust you are well during Sir Brian and Lady Rebecca’s absence?

Quite so, my lord, and in good hands with Lord and Lady Danford.

Very well, I would like to meet your father upon his return, Miss Saunders, Nicholas said, causing heads to turn and Raybourne to raise a brow. 

Ignoring his closest ally’s speculation as to why he would request an audience with Miss Saunders’ father, he was relieved when Danford changed the subject to something innocuous, affording him the chance to observe the woman who could become his duchess if she permitted his suit. 

Taller than Lady Ashton and Lady Danford by two hand’s width, her forehead came up to his chin, calling attention to her mouth that reminded him of an upside-down cupid’s bow. For a moment, he was tempted to lean over and nip her fuller top lip. If they were alone, he would have. Her rosewater scent pleased the tiger within, causing him to purr.

Flushing prettily, she lifted her left hand to rub her temple, telling him she must’ve heard it. Wanting her with a fierceness that could be dangerous for any single male within her proximity should he permit the tiger free reign, he pinched his nose to subdue the beast, inducing a fierce headache.

Are you unwell, Your Grace? Miss Saunders asked, stepping close enough to lift her hand and brush his brow as a mother might do to a feverish child. It was so unexpected and inherently kind that he allowed it.

Miss Saunders, you mustn’t, Danford admonished, causing Lady Danford and Lady Ashton to gasp. We will depart your company at once, Your Grace. Be reassured that Lady Danford and I will instruct her on proper protocol going forward.

It is all right, Danford, he interjected, raising his walking stick with his right hand to distract even as he caught her hand with his left to gently lower it. Missing her gentle touch, he found himself longing for it again, as it’d eased his headache in the way nothing else could. 

Forgive me, Your Grace, Miss Saunders said on her behalf. I am but a healer meaning only to offer aid should you have need of it.

You were not wrong, Miss Saunders, Nicholas murmured, not needing the explanation. I’ve had a headache much of the morning and your kindness will not be forgotten.

Then you’re feeling better? she asked, raising her chin a mite.

I am, he assured.

May I speak, Your Grace? Lady Ashton asked.

Please do, he granted.

Miss Saunders and I met at Wolcott and she has been my companion ever since. A dearest friend I could not name.

You needn’t worry. If I were offended by a heartfelt misstep, I’d have gently let her know and will brook no quarter should she be admonished for it again.

You are gracious, Miss Saunders said softly, her voice so pleasing to him he almost purred again.

Miss Saunders is also under my protection while Sir Brian and Lady Rebecca are in Boston, Danford said, standing proudly and patiently beside the Countess. 

It was then Nicholas realized Miss Saunders was more than a companion to the Earl’s daughter. She was a Guard, trained to protect Danford’s daughter, who appeared of marriageable age but was still quite young by Abcynian measure. 

Nicholas inclined his head. Will you and your family attend the evening’s ball at the Upper Rooms, Danford?

Aye, Your Grace.

Good, I would like for you to join me at cards this evening.

It would be an honor.

For a moment or two, conversation lingered, but Lord Danford soon led his family and Miss Saunders away, the look she’d sent him before leaving one of curiosity and concern for his discomfort earlier. Sending assurance that he was well, he waited until she disappeared to ponder what to do next.

By God, Arrington, the girl I once knew has grown into a lovely woman, Raybourne said. Her father must be proud.

Danford raised a fine daughter.

I was referring to Miss Saunders.

Aye, she is beautiful. And, at times, reminds me of my brother’s wife.

What do you mean?

Growing up, she’d spend most of her days dressed like a boy and declared early on she would become a Guard like her grandmother. Obviously, she has done as she claimed.

Might I ask her grandmother’s name?

Rachel Bennett, Angelica Forresters’ Guard and companion.

I’d wondered about Regan's association to Danford’s family. Now I understand.

Raybourne stilled, turning to face him, their Guards pausing. How do you know her given name?

The same way that I know she’s to be my mate, he answered, tapping his temple.

I see. Do you intend to do right by her?

My word of honor, there is nothing more important to me than her wellbeing. Need I remind you that Saturians like nothing more than to prey upon Abcynian Guards. 

They’ve been silent since the Marquess of Meldon was revealed to be a traitor, leaving his family in ruins. I wouldn’t worry about Regan. She is as loyal to Abcynians as her father. While aboard the Sea Lion, he accepted partial conversion by your son and became Ryder Sanborn’s first mate and Guard before captaining his own ship.

Last I’d heard, Garrick’s daughter and son-in-law have a family now.

This is true, Ryder and Brooke are quite happy and have relocated from Virginia to New Orleans with Garrick and Aisley.

What was the appeal? Nicholas asked.

The bayous are advantageous to the panthera pardus. Tell me, since we’ve been talking of Meldon, has Gabriel located Alvina?

I fear not, though he has reason to believe she may be near Bath. For that reason, I shall speak to Danford this evening to make sure Miss Saunders is as protected as his daughter.

You may not know Talon as well as you did Garrick, but if he promised to watch over Sir Brian’s daughter, he will.

Not to worry, I respect Danford, just not all of his views in the Upper House.

All the same, I think I shall invite Miss Saunders to dance at the assembly, Raybourne decided, forcing Nicholas to ignore the heat of jealousy that struck him as painfully as a kick to his groin.

You mustn’t Raybourne, you know why. What of Bridgette, have you seen her?

Unfortunately, I’ve not had time nor am I inclined to continue our relationship as I’d received word from my father to remain vigilant in England, as something concerned him about Mercedes and Elena.

If you’ve the need, take as many of my Guards as you may require. As it is, my prayers to the Creator for your sisters.

You’re gracious to offer and I shall always accept when it comes to the safety of my family. Tell me, are you still interested in purchasing my townhome in Lincoln’s Inn Fields?

The house would be perfect for Michael when he’s ready. I’m also interested in investing in Montgomery Shipping.

Gabriel’s still resisting his duties to his title?

You know my son, Raybourne. He will not relent without a fight.

It is a fight you must win if you’re to protect the dukedom.

Aye, I know. For now, I must learn more of my future duchess, should she accept our pairing.

And, if she doesn’t? You should know Regan Saunders desires to become a doctor.

How do you know of this?

When she was sixteen, she cut off her hair to purchase a medical textbook. Thus, her father locked her in the house until it grew back, but she’s wanted to be a physician since childhood.

She cannot do that, Valiant, Nicholas said, worried enough to use given names. Should she try, the scandal would be ruinous.

Perhaps not right now, Nicholas, but she’s been tenacious since childhood. I would not be surprised if she finds ways to study until such time as women can attend medical school.

You think it’ll happen?

To hide my true age, I’ve been five different men, some titled, some not. Most recently, I joined my brother in the guise of a sailor in support of his decision to battle for American Independence. Therefore, I think Regan will eventually get her way.

The truth of your words both frightens and fascinates me. Verily, I shall have to find a way to protect her.

As my father has named me Regent in his stead, you will not have to do so alone, Valiant vowed, giving Nicholas peace of mind for the time being.

Chapter Two

Wearing underclothes and stockings, Regan stared at her reflection in a long mirror. She’d done the same thing earlier that morning, yet she felt different now. In truth, meeting the Duke of Arrington had awakened something long dormant within her.

Through the mirror, she studied her bedchamber, hoping to be distracted by the Palladian architecture and Roman antiquities. The floor was made of polished dark wood complemented by a multicolored wool rug. The last two nights spent in a cherry four-poster bed large enough for two people had been sublime.

But the comfort of such a bed wasn’t the reason she’d begun wondering if she was considered pretty. Her parents had said so. Her childhood companions had. Even Edison Chambers had complimented her after he’d kissed her in the stables at Wolcott.

At the time, she’d not cared for it and the following day she’d taken Rhiannon’s advice to keep her distance from boys and sold her hair to procure a rare surgeon’s textbook written in English.

Her father may have locked her in the house until her shorn locks grew back, but she’d gained knowledge during that time that helped her as a healer. Now, as she stood before the mirror, books, surgical techniques, and medicine were secondary to thinking of what it’d feel like to be kissed by His Grace the Duke of Arrington.

Would it be pleasant? Something she’d want to do again rather than hide in a library for months as she’d done at sixteen? Oh, nay, she mustn’t think of such things, she mustn’t. She was already courting scandal with some of her ideas and dreams for the advancement of women in occupations or government reserved strictly for men.

Merciful heavens, whatever compelled her to forgo protocol and touch the Duke without reservation? It mattered not that she’d sensed the severity of his pain and wanted only to provide relief. Expecting rebuke, she’d braced for the worst of it. Instead, he’d rescued her from Lord Danford’s admonishment and deflected the fact that he’d taken her hand in his, even if it’d been but a moment.

Looking forward to seeing him at the ball this evening, she was startled by a knock at the door. Enter, she called, dropping her hand to her side, only to realize she’d pressed it to her crimson cheek. 

Marianne, the maid assigned to assist her, rushed into the room. I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Jean Marie is preparing your wig and should be here shortly. You still wish to wear the blue and rose gown?

Aye, did you remember to tell her not to use powder on the wig?

I did, as it, along with white face paint, makes you itch.

Marianne bustled over to the closet where her gown had been hung earlier as another knock sounded at the door, the second maid coming in with a brunette wig.

Have I kept you waiting, my lady? she asked.

You have not, Regan said.

Let us get you dressed, Marianne insisted. There’s a gentleman waiting in the parlor with Lord Hayden, a friend from Eton, or so I’m told.

A right handsome one, Jean Marie added.

Curious, Regan waited as the maids worked their magic to get her dressed, completing the ensemble with her wig and shoes. The shoes would pinch a bit, though she doubted she’d dance unless His Grace were to ask her. 

The thought alone made her giggle as she turned to face the mirror. Goodness, you both did a remarkable job. Thank you.

In truth, the gown was beautiful, the blue silk fabric cut away from the center to accent her full, rounded breasts beneath the rose bodice, the subtle swell of her hips, and the length of her legs. The ruffles of the quarter sleeves were sweet, pretty. A sapphire blue choker complemented her fair skin and the arch of her neck.

While her natural pale auburn hair tended to curl wildly, the brunette wig was pulled back into a sweep of curled braids at the nape. The dusty rose shade of paint applied to her mouth and cheeks looked natural, giving shine to her green eyes and fullness to her lips.

I think you’re ready, my lady, Marianne said.

Regan thanked the maids and left her room. Hurrying down the hall to a stairway, she went down to the first floor.

Ah, Miss Saunders, you look quite lovely this evening, Lady Edgemere called out before Regan reached the parlor.

Good evening, Lady Edgemere. Looking up at the second-floor landing, she took note of the Viscountess’ blue and silver gown that enhanced her beauty and fashionably-styled white powdered wig. You are gracious. I trust you are well, my lady?

Verily, better than I’ve been in a very long time. Recently out of mourning, Lady Edgemere had become more social, her clothing colorful, perhaps a sign that she would dance again.

It’s nice to hear. Lord Edgemere was a good man who will be missed amongst our kind. I’m certain he would want you to enjoy yourself.

You are kind to say so. Shall we venture inside? she suggested, leading the way into the parlor. Lord and Lady Danford conversed with a handsome young man dressed in a forest green waistcoat, white shirt, and gray breeches.

Their son Lord Hayden Forrester stood nearby. At one hundred and seventy, he appeared to be of an age to attend Eton. In a white shirt, blue coat, gray breeches, stockings and elegant shoes he looked very much like his father.

Lady Edgemere, Miss Saunders, I’d like you to meet Lord Derek Estcott, a friend of Hayden’s from Eton, Lord Danford invited.

It has been some time since Hayden brought a friend to visit the family, Lady Edgemere said. Have you plans to stay in Bath for long?

Only as long as Hayden, my lady, Lord Derek replied, his face flushing scarlet when he spoke to the Viscountess. 

You may speak freely and informally, the Earl told him.

My father has been serving the Forrester family for three generations, it is my honor to continue protecting Hayden at Eton, the young lord revealed.

Lady Edgemere smiled. You’re his Guard.

Aye, my lady.

Derek plans to follow the path of the third son by overseeing the congregation in Danford upon finishing at Eton, Hayden said, inclining his head toward his Guard.

Behind them a rustle of silk skirts announced Lady Ashton’s arrival. Am I late? she asked, striding across the room. 

There’s plenty of time, Hayden said, rushing across the room to greet his sister. The two spoke quietly amongst themselves a moment or two before he introduced Ashton to Lord Derek.

Shortly, Lord Danford left the parlor with the butler, assuring all he’d return when the carriages were brought around for their journey to the Upper Rooms. It was only after the Earl left the room that Regan realized she’d missed some of the conversation.

Have you studied Latin, my lord? Ashton asked of Lord Derek.

Aye, are you familiar with it?

I am. However, Miss Saunders would love to learn. 

Might I ask why?

Straightening her shoulders, she inclined her head. As a healer and midwife, I’ve come to enjoy collecting medical textbooks and instruments. Regrettably, most are written in Latin, a language that has eluded me.

I admire your determination to learn. While I am here, I would be pleased to tutor you.

I would like that very much, my lord.

Perhaps we can begin tomorrow. Assuming you won’t mind, Lady Danford?

As long as Lady Edgemere or Ashton are present, you are both welcome to use the library.

Lord Derek bowed toward the Countess, thanking her for her generosity. Shortly, the butler returned, summoning them to the foyer.

Hayden was told to bring Lord Derek here to meet you, Ashton confided to Regan as they walked side by side.

I thought as much, though he seems way too young for me.

My parents wouldn’t have suggested the two of you meet if he weren’t an honorable man. Although, dare not forget Dr. Chambers will be in attendance this evening.

I assure you, I have not, Regan replied, all the while wondering whether His Grace the Duke of Arrington would be as kind to her at the ball as he’d been in Parade Gardens.

* * * * *

Nicholas dismissed his Guards the moment he strode into Thornton Hall.

The tiger within liked the opulence of the grand Romanesque staircase and dome ceiling above. The Abcynian appreciated the marble statues of Roman soldiers and paintings of Roman gods that’d been gifted to him by Dante Luciano.

Wondering if Regan would approve, he inhaled, his keen senses alerting him to trouble. He’d have to deal with it quickly, or else his heir was going to create complications he didn’t need right now.

Welcome home, Your Grace, would you require something to eat before venturing to the assembly? Tompkins asked when he came into the foyer.

Calmly, Nicholas turned to the butler. The man was near to one hundred years old, appearing fifty. In his duties as the butler and an Abcynian Guard, Tompkins rarely allowed anything to shake him. Today, he was trembling.

Nay, I’ve just come from Lord Raybourne’s. Has my brother arrived safely?

Lord Quinton arrived two hours ago. He and Lord Michael are in their chambers preparing for the evening. Lord Everley has been home since noontime and has forbidden any servants from entering his quarters.

Nicholas pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger, a gesture he’d begun in his youth to remind the tiger that he could not come forth when humans were in residence. Judging the smell of musky sweat,