Her heart almost stopped. Raulton, here? The man was everywhere. And it meant Jeremy might show as well. What luck. What good fortune.

"I would be pleased," she murmured. "Father?"

"Don't stay on my account," her father said, too heartily. "I can easily drum up some company or a game of cards." And drum Mr. Raulton right out of this house, but that was not his purview, nor could Regina refuse to join Raulton at the card table now without seeming churlish.

Events were conspiring against him, Reginald thought furiously, as he watched Regina glide into the card room and take her seat at Raulton's table. The man was too damned slimy and ingratiating, because if he weren't, the Petleys never would have invited him for the evening.

Nor could he stay and keep an eye on Regina. It was the most damnable thing. She was out to get Raulton, and like a plump plum, everytime she turned around, he fell into her lap.

He stalked into the refreshment room, not quite sure what he wanted to do, but vaguely planning to bring Regina something to drink and then spill it all on Mr. Raulton's head.

Not too subtle, that. He almost wished Regina had been laid low by her headache of the previous night. He hoped against hope Jeremy would come. He felt as helpless as only a father can feel when his beloved child has walked into a predator's trap.

He took a glass of lemonade and made his way to the card room. There was no way to observe them unnoticed. The honest thing was to present Regina with the lemonade and withdraw.

But when he caught sight of the table, with Regina, Raulton, and six other people besides, and saw that the cards had been dealt, and the first lead was in play, he changed course.

No use upsetting things. Nothing could happen there.

He needed a drink and something stronger than lemonade.

Damn, he needed Jeremy.

Jeremy was fighting his worst instincts, the invitation to the Petleys' crumpled in his hand, already a block from their town house and thinking it was the worst idea to spend an evening with all those browseabouts and bagpipes when he could be spending himself in his mistress.

But not this soon. Not after he had dressed her to the nines on the duties of a mistress to her keeper. Sheer folly to bend under the weight of his lust and give in to his clamoring penis. A man had to be stronger than that. Harder than that.

Damn hell.

A small card party with supper was just the thing to take his mind off of her. He would have to mind his manners and keep focused because Lady Petley had a great fondness for whist and for him as a partner.

Just the thing.

Maybe…?

He topped the town house steps and entered the hall. What the hell was this? A small, select group of what-a hundred?

And the noise! The music from the far parlor. The laughter in the card room. People playing cap-verses in the dining room, shrieking their clever rhymes above the din.

Typical Petley row. Damn. Hell. Now what?

He turned on his heel to leave, and just caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. Regina… Raulton… shit-

Damn her to hell.

He eased his way into the card room, every expectation met: there was Regina, sitting across from Raulton, beautiful, breathtaking, sensual, and the bastard couldn't keep his eyes off the swell of her breasts, which, with that abomination of a dress, she of course fully intended should happen.

She knew she would see him here, he thought venomously. Maybe she had even planned it. God knew, she had had the whole afternoon to weave her little web, to convince the Petleys perhaps to include him among the guests. Damn and hell, he never goddamned should have left her.

She was booked at ten-to-one at Heeton's. Hard in the running for that man's hand. Soames was fifty-to-one, even though everyone had seen them together at the Skeffinghams'. It was thought she was a little too green in the grass for him.

But Regina, with her breasts and her protruding nipples that even he could see from where he stood-Regina, with her beauty, her wit and her style-Regina with her newfound knowledge-Regina was perfect.

And Regina would never settle for being Raulton's mistress, no matter what she said.

Only his.

Well, by damn, that was enough. That was what they both wanted. He had paid for her, he owned her for as long as HE wanted her, and he would make sure that any other interested male could not mistake it.

He left to prepare, as her laughter rippled across the room.

"I don't like that Raulton," Reginald said, feeling as if he had had this conversation at least ten times already.

"He is an amusing man," Regina said. "Interesting. Excellent at cards. But I'm certain he was gentleman enough to let me win several hands."

"He wants to win your hand," Reginald said sourly, "and I tell you now, Regina, I will never countenance such a match."

She prickled up. This had been quite an evening, with

Raulton's attention all on her and her bosom, and Jeremy nowhere to hand. It made her positively irritable that he had not shown, and that Raulton was on her every moment, as if that little play they had enacted the night before entitled him to liberties. Blast him. Blast Jeremy.

"Is that so, Father? I wonder where you got the idea that any such thing was a consideration."

"Watching that damned popinjay is where. This was the first time in a month he didn't need to pay court to some milk and water miss, and he could seek out a woman of wit and guile. Who wouldn't notice?"

"He likes the cards," Regina said tautly, "and a partner with some gumption. There is nothing more to it than that."

"He may wish for that in a life partner as well."

"So do I," she said waspishly.

"Don't say that."

"I've said it. There's nothing more to say, Father. I heard you."

"I don't think so," Reginald said grumpily. "Not by half." And where was Jeremy when he needed him?

He was almost afraid to bid her good night. It didn't seem beyond possibility that she was capable of sneaking out and meeting Raulton, given how cozy they had been tonight.

The thought struck terror in his heart.

It was the worst thing in the world to have such a daughter; no man could resist her, and as was becoming very obvious, there was one man that she could not seem to resist either.

She climbed the stairs wearily. She had been soundly trumped; it was silly and childish, but nothing mattered when she felt as if she had lost the game.

And the heady moments at the card table opposite Raulton? All for show, did Jeremy arrive. And all of it, time wasted.

Tomorrow, she would end the thing and tell her father for true that she had no interest in Raulton whatsoever.

And then the game would be over, and she would move on.

There was a glimmer of light beneath her door, as faint as hope. What hope? A man had a choice of a dozen women who would copulate with him for the price of a carriage, a house and a thousand a year. Pleasure came cheap for a man of means at that price. And it was an excellent bargain for his mistress, who got to keep every pound she earned.

Blast it. What was she thinking? Raulton's presence at the Petleys' had her tied up in knots. It had taken an enormous effort to keep him amused and entertained.

But the end result appalled her: he had looked at her with new appreciation and new consideration, which a week ago would have fit into her plans and schemes admirably, and that was the thing her father remarked upon.

And if he had seen it, how many others had as well? Blast and blast.

Yet another tangle in the web, and she was far too tired to unravel it tonight.

"Not too tired for me?" Jeremy said from the depths of the room.

Blast him. She shrugged off her shawl. "Cards do wear one out. All that mental calculation. And then, to play with a man with the finesse of Mr. Raulton-well, need I tell you, dear Jeremy? It fair kept me in high gig just to keep up with him."

"Indeed, you need to tell me, dear Regina. That dress, flaunting your breasts, your nipples, what I bought, what I own, in another man's face so he can salivate over what he can't have. Do tell me, Regina. What was that all about?"

"That was about I have a life and you have a life and sometimes our interests cross, and sometimes they don't," she said rebelliously. "I didn't expect you tonight."

"Obviously. Maybe you thought Raulton would arrive to take my place."

"Oh, please…" Oh, he is jealous… he is-

"Oh, please what, since your express intention all along has been to attract his notice. Well, let me tell you, he noticed and he will come sniffing around you. Only he will find me in your bed, or barring that, he will find irrefutable evidence that someone owns you."

"Truly," she murmured, thrilled to the bone by his possessive tone. "And what will he find?"

He held up his hand, and dangling from his fingers there was a thin gold chain at the end of which was a tiny lock. "You will wear my chain as a symbol of my possession so no other man can penetrate you."

She held out a shaking hand to take it. It was such a fine, thin chain that it was a barrier to nothing, and it excited her beyond all measure because it was a tangible sign that she was his mistress indeed and he wanted her body to the exclusion of any other woman. Who would not enchain her body for the pleasure of the man who owned her?

"I will wear your symbol," she said huskily, "but he will not come."

"He was riveted by your breasts, fancy-piece. By your nipples. I saw him."

"You were there?" She felt triumphant. Not all for naught. Not a waste when it had resulted in this unleashing of his undeniable lust for her.