Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Eleven

The storms arrived just after sunset.

Lady Polmerol had already cancelled her plans for boating on the lake, so there were no further grumbles of disappointment when the first flash of lightning was spotted through the windows. To replace the boating, Lady Polmerol announced there would be a bit of music and dancing in a room she referred to as the Blue Parlour, followed by a light supper.

Regan had no inclination to dance. But Katharine had acquired Mr. Winthrop as a partner for at least one dance, and several other gentlemen had stepped up as well to make a similar request. Regan's plan was to join the rest of the older ladies at the side of the room, where chairs had been set up for those more interested in watching the entertainments than joining in.

Of course, her plans - as too many plans often did - went awry the moment she and her daughter entered the parlour. A gentleman she hadn't given much notice to before approached her. Regan's first thought was that he had come to beg a dance from Katharine, but instead he focused his attention on herself, bowing over her hand and greeting her with an eager expression.

"Lady Griffith, I would be honoured if you would join me for the first dance? That is, unless you are already otherwise engaged?"

Regan made a surreptitious attempt at clearing her throat while she struggled to remember the gentleman's name. Mr. Prentiss? Peerless? She remembered being introduced to him on the first day of her arrival at Brandon Hall, but she'd found names and other details more difficult to recall the older she became. "Thank you," she said, careful to avoid saying his name and embarrass herself by getting it wrong. "I had not thought to dance this evening, but I daresay I can enjoy one turn about the room before I settle in with the other mamas keeping an eye on their daughters."

"His name is Mr. Perkins," Katharine whispered as they watched the gentleman return to the other side of the parlour.

Regan patted her daughter's arm. "Thank you. I've simply no memory for names these days."

"Well, I've no doubt you'll be bombarded with names this evening, or do you think Mr. Perkins will be the only one to ask you to dance?" Katharine's mouth was turned up with mischief. "I would not be surprised to see you end the night having danced - or at least be asked to dance - by a greater number of gentleman than any of the other ladies present."

Regan brushed away such nonsense with a flick of her hand. "I will dance with Mr. Perkins, if only to recompense for my inability to remember the poor man's name. But I would much prefer to spend the rest of my evening beside one of those ghastly potted plants, drinking as much punch and indulging on as many edibles as my head and the seams of my gown will allow."

"Hmm, we shall see..." was all Katharine said to this, before Mr. Winthrop came up and offered his arm to lead her out for the first dance.

Regan joined Mr. Perkins and the rest of the dancers on the floor. It was a simple country dance to begin with, the steps and patterns easy enough for Regan to keep up with and not feel as if she would make a fool of herself from lack of practice. When the dance ended some minutes later, she had expected herself to be more winded than she was. Mr. Perkins already showed red cheeks and a sheen of sweat on his brow, but Regan issued a silent thanks for all the years she'd spent chasing the children around the grounds. She wasn't even out of breath, and not a single pin in her hair seemed to have slipped out of place.

"May I fetch you some punch?" Mr. Perkins offered as he escorted her towards the edges of the room.

"Yes, thank you!" As he went off towards the table set up on the opposite side of the parlour, Regan eyed the chairs set up beside the plants, most of them already filled with the mothers and older ladies and gentlemen who had no desire or need to stand up and parade around with the younger guests. She was just about to slip into an empty seat at the end of the row when Lord Hays appeared at her side.