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head in resignation. “Can she not stop her matchmaking even now?”
    â€œShe does not wish,” his grandmother returned with a victorious grin, “to own that I have succeeded where she failed. Look at the two of you! Anyone can tell that this match will be a successful one.”
    Lord Daniston arched a brow in Regina’s direction. When she pressed her lips together tightly to hide her smile, he bent to kiss the dowager duchess on the cheek. “Grandmother, I have never known you to be less than successful at anything you put your mind to.”
    â€œJust you remember that.” She slapped his arm playfully, then pointed toward the parlor. “Now, do not loiter out here, or I fear our guests will be enjoying even more poker-talk than they are already at your expense.”
    â€œDash it!”
    â€œAnd watch your language, young man. Ladies are present.”
    Regina released her laugh, which refused to be held any longer, as the dowager duchess scurried away. “Does she always order you about like that?”
    â€œShe has since I was in short coats.”
    â€œI am sure you were a rapscallion then.”
    He lifted her hand from his sleeve and ran his thumb along her palm. As she savored the shiver of delight surging outward from his touch, he whispered, “And what makes you think I have changed?”
    â€œYou still are a naughty little boy?” she asked as lowly.
    â€œI am not a little boy any longer, madam.” His fingers curved along her cheek as he tipped her mouth toward his.
    Her breath caught, and her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she stared up at him. She should pull away, should tell him that she would not be his when he was also sharing his particular’s bed, should remind him that they must not consummate their marriage until after the ceremony. But she could say nothing. She wanted to discover if his kisses were as wondrous as she had dreamed.
    â€œHere they are!” The Duke of Attleby’s voice rolled over them, pressing all desire from her.
    Jumping back, Regina forced a smile as the duke introduced her to a friend. The gentleman—Regina’s mind was awash with the passions she had nearly let control her, so she forgot the man’s name as soon as the duke spoke it—greeted her warmly and clapped Lord Daniston on the shoulder as he congratulated them.
    The duke herded them all into the grand parlor. And it was grand. Regina stared about in amazement, for she had not been in this room yet. Although it was less than half the size of the ballroom, the ceiling was as high and ornate, with plaster designs of flowers and vines. Three walls were covered with a mural of a bucolic scene of what she guessed might be the landscape around Attleby Court, because in the far corner she saw a hint of a building that resembled the huge stone house she had seen in another painting. Horses grazed in the fields, and the gardens were a cacophony of color.
    She had no chance to explore the mural further, though, because she and her new family were instantly surrounded by the guests. The polite questions she had answered before had vanished as the queries grew more pointed.
    What did she think of Town? How long would she and Lord Daniston remain in London before they enjoyed a honeymoon far from the ton? Surely her father was returning for the wedding ceremony at the month’s end, wasn’t he? And …
    Regina tried to answer each person without revealing some facet of the truth of the uneasy feelings between her and her husband. If even a hint of that was divulged, the whole family would be the focus of conversation of those upon the gad.
    When the folding doors were opened to the dining room and Lord Daniston came to escort her into dinner, Regina smiled.
    â€œYou look as if you are enjoying yourself,” he said as they walked behind the duke and the dowager duchess.
    â€œAs much as I would enjoy myself while being held in the