in the dark like this.” Beatrice was appalled at the hint of tears in her voice.
“Beatrice, sweetheart.” The countess paused. “I know you still miss her and no one can take her place. But in this case even she would insist that ignoring Lord Jess is the wisest course of action.”
“Then why is he here?” Beatrice asked again, this time with a vehemence that demanded an answer.
The countess laughed. “You are the most stubborn chit. I will not say any more. Go dress for dinner while I settle the new arrivals into their rooms. And promise me you will avoid Lord Jess Pennistan.”
Miss Beatrice Brent stood on tiptoe and kissed her godmother’s cheek. “If it will make you happy. I promise to ignore him as best as I can at such a small house party.”
She dashed up the steps. She was inexperienced and a little too curious but not stupid. She rubbed her hand against her skirt, remembering the amazing way his touch had made her feel, as though she were being awakened from a sleep with the promise of something wonderful. But once she had released his hand, her normal sensibilities had returned. It was that easy.
THE COUNTESS CORNERED Jess before he could join the other guests in the salon.
“Jessup,” she began in the most dampening tone. “I am having serious second thoughts about allowing you to stay. Did I not make it perfectly clear that this house party is being held to introduce my goddaughters to respected and influential members of the ton?” She paused and gave him a withering look. “You are neither respected nor influential.”
“Yes, my lady.” Jess absorbed the snub, the downright insult, with a mental shrug. The countess was only telling the truth. “And as I told you, the only reason I am here is to win my land back from Crenshaw. This gathering seems an ideal opportunity.”
“It had best be that simple,” the countess replied, “because I do not like being used.”
“I am being honest with you.” Jess tried to keep the desperation from his voice. “It is that simple. If you are not willing to allow me to stay, then it will be after Easter in London before I have another opportunity to best him, and by then he will have added it to his entail or made the land otherwise impossible to win back.”
The countess pursed her lips, which did not become her. Small lines around her mouth hinted at her age, something he knew she never told anyone. Forty or fifty or somewhere in between, he guessed.
“I did not ask before, but now I’m wondering why this land is so important to you.”
Honesty was all that would serve. “My mother left me the land and made me promise never to sell it. I was caught up in a game where one could wager anything but money. It seemed amusing at the time.”
“Until you lost it.”
“And Crenshaw would not accept my word that I would pay him the cash.”
The countess nodded as though she had heard of such games. “I assume there was a lady involved.”
“Yes, a woman. Not a lady.”
The countess shook her head. “So you were coveting yet another woman of Crenshaw’s. At least this one was not married to him, was she?”
“No, my lady.” Jess tamped down the spurt of anger, sorely tempted to tell the countess the truth of what had happened.
“One would think that experience would have taught you that those efforts never end well, at least not for you.”
“Yes.” He kept his true opinion to himself. He hated everything that Crenshaw represented, and removing Sadie from his influence had given Jess some satisfaction. A lot of satisfaction.
“So, young man, this visit is not about winning the hand of a wealthy heiress?”
“No, it is most definitely not, my lady. God spare me that complication. I prefer to stay unmarried.”
She moved away from him. “Then what was that interlude I just witnessed?”
Jess smiled. “Miss Brent is an artless, charming little bit of a thing. But now that I have the measure of her I will be on my guard.”
The countess laughed. “Artless and charming, but with a fine brain that is endlessly curious. Be careful.”
“Yes, my lady.” It seemed a wiser answer than what he was really thinking. Was his pocket Venus going to try to seduce him? He was still doing his best to forget the surge of lust that had swept through him at the mere touch of her hand.