One More Kiss (18 page)

Lord Jess served himself from a platter on his right, and Beatrice found herself relieved that he had looked away. For a minute she had thought she could read his mind. He seemed to feel regretful, to wish that life could be different.

“You will have to make a decision quickly on a gentleman’s suitability. Your advisers will not always be readily available.”

Now he sounded like a tutor. It was patronizing and she would have none of that. “And I suppose you are the type I should avoid, my lord?”

“Only in London, Miss Brent. Here I am as safe as your maiden aunt or the countess would not have invited me.”

“Then, yes, my lord. I should love to scan the night sky for unusual stars. It would be fun.” Her enthusiasm was tempered to a ladylike timbre, but she really did want to do it. And she did not want company when they did. Just the two of them, the night sky, and a million stars.

“I do not think your sister would be inclined to go,” Lord Jess said in a considering tone, “but I am sure Lord Destry would, and Mrs. Kendrick and Lord Belmont.”

“Mrs. Kendrick and Lord Belmont would be perfect company.”

Lord Jess speared a bite of duck with his fork. “It will have to be late in the evening when it will not interfere with any plans the countess might have.”

“But that’s ideal as well. I noticed last night that
there is a new moon and it will have set by then.” Beatrice thought the plan perfect, but then realized that one element was not in their control. “The weather must cooperate and that is always a challenge.”

“You think visitors from beyond earth are discouraged by a little summer rain? We can search from the protection of the summer house if the night is wet. Or are you afraid that it might be boring?”

The smile that tilted his lips was a silent dare. She decided he was teasing. And she was not up to his weight in that arena. It was best to change the subject. “Why do we even need to consider visitors from another existence when our own writers can conjure up the fantastical for us? Have you read
Frankenstein
?”

“Never heard of it,” he admitted blithely. “Is that terribly crass of me?”

“Not at all, my lord.” He was still teasing her. She was sure of it. His tone made it sound like being crass was something he would love to be accused of. “There were only five hundred copies printed. In three volumes.”

“You are a bibliophile
and
a student of art?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, making her eyes go wide. Then she leaned closer to him. “Now you will be convinced I am a bluestocking?”

She did not wait for an answer but straightened in her chair and went on. “My sister and I have read the first volume, but when I tried to order the other two they were no longer available. Even the subscription library was unable to buy a copy.”

“What a disappointment.” His tone implied it was anything but.

“Be serious, my lord,” she scolded. “How would you
feel if you were in the midst of a compelling game of cards and you were made to stop before you knew who would win?”

“It would be frustrating, to say the least. Especially if there was a wager involved. I do see your point.”

How could he be so absolutely intriguing when they had nothing in common? Or was that why he fascinated her? But then what was she to him? Just another flirt. Not his usual style but all that was available to him now. That hurt a little, since it was probably the truth. She began to turn away.

Once again, Lord Jess leaned toward her, whispering, “I should like to learn more about Rembrandt.”

She turned back to him, their faces close, much too close. “I’m sure there are some excellent books in the library on that very subject.”

“Well done. You are mastering the set-down.”

Without giving him a chance for further comment, she turned to Lord Crenshaw, suggesting he sample some of the chicken in cream sauce that was at her right hand, determined to ignore Lord Jess for the rest of the meal.

At the end of the service the countess announced that the ladies would withdraw,” and when the gentlemen join us we will hear highlighted portions of
Frankenstein
with musical accompaniment by Miss Wilson, who is sharing her talent with us this evening.”

Lord Jess moved Beatrice’s chair back for her, and when she thanked him with barely a glance he laughed and whispered, “It is the least of the ways I would like to serve you.”

The way he said “serve” gave the word a whole different meaning. One that involved kissing. Beatrice
faced him. Now that she had determined why he was interested in her, she no longer wanted to play. “I’ve had quite enough practice at flirtation for one evening, my lord.”

“You wound me,” he said, clearly amused and not at all annoyed. He raised her hand and kissed it. “I will have to keep practicing.”

She pulled her hand from his, wiped the back of it on her skirt—though there was nothing to remove other than the feel of his lips—and gave up besting him at his own game. She could feel her face growing red and blotchy and hated him for it.

T
HE GENTLEMEN MOVED
about the dining room, Belmont apparently still searching for the hiding place of the unexpected dinner guest. Crenshaw went behind the screen. Before the footmen brought in the brandy, Destry cornered Jess.

“Tell me what you were about with Miss Brent. Her sister could not concentrate on her food, or worse, give me her undivided attention, she was so distracted by the intimate conversation you two were having.”

“Intimate conversation?” Jess repeated. “We were whispering so that damn Crenshaw would not give us his unwanted opinion on everything we said. We were discussing Miss Wilson’s story.”

“You’re trying to tell me you were not flirting with her?”

“Is it possible for a man and woman to have a conversation without flirting?” Especially with someone as engaging as Beatrice Brent, he added to himself. “A
smile and a look, yes, but we were not discussing how to have an affair in the midst of such a close party.”

“As long as she knows the difference between a flirtation and a courtship.” His voice trailed off. “Jess, were you serious about dangling after her because Crenshaw is interested?”

“No, of course not,” Jess lied. The truth was she did need to be distracted from even the idea of so disastrous an alliance.

“Well, there is a difference between flirting and forming an attachment,” Destry reminded him, apparently unconvinced.

“And the countess trusts that I know the difference.”

“Then you had better hope that Miss Brent does as well.”

Jess thought back to the little Venus’s parting shot. “I have no doubt that she does.”

A footman came in with a large tray loaded with decanters and glasses. Lord Crenshaw came from behind the screen still buttoning his fall, and Belmont joined them.

“I found the space where the speaker hid,” Belmont announced, “but there are no clues about his identity except for a cone made of stiff paper that would have served to amplify his voice.” The others joined him in speculation.

D
ESTRY APPRECIATED THE
neutral subject. Crenshaw and Jess were in too small a company to avoid each other for long. He had a feeling they would be joining the ladies quickly, which suited him. Jess might not have seduction on his mind, but he did.

Chapter Fifteen
 

“W
HAT IN THE
world were you and Lord Jess doing?” Cecilia asked, not bothering to hide her dismay.

The ladies were in the music room, where chairs were set up facing the piano, which held pride of place even though not quite in the middle of the room.

“Isn’t this a lovely salon?” Beatrice asked. It was clear to Cecilia that her sister was trying to change the subject.

That wouldn’t work. But the room was amazing. There was a harp with a stool, with music on a stand in front of it as though someone had only just left off playing. There were cases in which other instruments were stored—or was it displayed—including some that looked so old she would not dare touch them.

“Yes, the best part is the gorgeous flower arrangements in those wall niches. They add color and life.” She pulled her sister by the arm. “Come, let’s examine this one.”

She tugged her sister toward an unoccupied corner of the music room. Once they were out of hearing, Cecilia confronted Beatrice again.

“He was practically in your lap, Bitsy,” Cecilia admonished. “What I mean is, you looked as though you were welcoming his advances.” She paused and then held up her hand. “I’m not even sure you should tell me. If that was not a seduction then I do not know a violet from a rose. Do the two of you have plans for a midnight assignation?”

Beatrice shook her head. “Of course not! We were discussing Miss Wilson’s night-sky visitor and he suggested that we gather a party of guests and go out to a field to see if we can find it again.” Beatrice decided it would not be a good idea to tell Cecilia that she rather hoped the party would be small and willing to leave them to their own interests.

“That was what you were talking about?”

“Yes. What else could it have been?”

“He has a reputation, Beatrice.” Cecilia tried to calm herself with a deep breath. “What I mean is, Lord Jessup spends all his time in London. There is no doubt in my mind that he is an expert at seduction. Everyone at the table was watching you.”

“They were?”

“Yes, and it did not look as though you were discouraging him.”

“Yes, we were flirting a little. I was practicing, just as we are supposed to. And it’s not nearly as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Beatrice, exactly when did the countess tell us we should practice flirting? What I recall is Papa telling us to have nothing to do with Lord Jess. You know he
was the one who brought Ellis home when he lost all his allowance gaming.”

“Yes, yes, I do,” Beatrice admitted, as though it was a tiresome bit of old news. “And I feel grateful for it. Listen to me, Ceci. Have you noticed how kind Lord Jess is?”

“Kind? No, I have not. It is hardly the first word that comes to mind when I think of him.”

“What is the first word?” Beatrice asked, distracted from her main point.

“Detached. Dangerous. Cynical.”

“That’s three words, and they are each a little of the truth except for dangerous. I don’t think he is dangerous at all, only misunderstood. I think he behaves as he does to hide his kindness, perhaps even his goodness.”

“Beatrice, you are not smitten, are you?” Cecilia made it sound like a dread disease.

“No. Really, not at all.” Not so much smitten as attracted. That was the only way to describe how she felt when she was near him, as if being right next to him was not close enough. “Ceci, I have seen his kindness a number of times in just these three days.”

“Perhaps he is only acting that way to seduce you.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

Cecilia agreed with a reluctant nod.

“Lord Jess has assured me he is on his best behavior here.”

“Then I would hate to see him at his worst. He looks as though he is ready to beat Lord Crenshaw to a pulp whenever the baron says something the slightest bit patronizing.”

“He may look like he wants to but he does not. So I
think he deserves credit for controlling his sensibilities.”

Before Cecilia could comment further, the giant doors to the room opened again and the gentlemen joined them.

As soon as the gentlemen found seats there was a crashing sound from the pianoforte—a single melodic strike that arrested everyone’s attention.

Miss Wilson proceeded with a piece that Beatrice did not recognize but that suited the provocative mood of the evening. Cecilia was seated on one side of Beatrice and Lord Destry was on the other. She looked around for Lord Jess and found him standing near the doors.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the countess called. “First I would like to make the voice of the monster known to you.” She gestured to the doors. “He is our own Mr. Brent.”

She raised her hands to applaud his performance as Abel Brent came into the room.

“P
APA!”
C
ECILIA COULD
not believe it was her father who had played the part of the monster. Her father was not an actor, or had never been before.

Beatrice did not appear surprised at all. She clapped her hands.

Mr. Brent strode to the front of the room, taking a bow before the countess and the assembled party. Then he came over to take a seat near where the countess was standing.

“I knew it was Papa!” Beatrice looked back toward the double doors and Lord Jess bowed to her. Cecilia
watched the exchange and knew that no matter what Beatrice said, her sister was as infatuated as any innocent could be.

“How? How did you know?” Cecilia asked, doing her best to draw her sister’s attention away from the only man in the room of whom her father did not approve.
Please let Lord Jessup exercise some discretion and not pay his gaming debt in Papa’s presence
, she prayed.

“Beatrice!” Cecilia nudged her sister. “Turn around and act like a lady, please.”