One More Kiss - By Mary Blayney Page 0,18

Miss Brent, the beauty, and turn away the moment she glanced in his direction.

“I would wager a quid that they’re as different as it is possible to be,” Jess mused.

“A bet I will not take for a number of reasons, not the last of which is that I can guess what method you would use to win.” Destry’s gaze drifted to the Brent sisters again, even though he could only see their backs.

The man was already becoming predictable.

“You don’t think she will give me the time of day, do you, Jess?”

“I have no idea, Des; attraction is strange and indefinable. Who would have thought that my oh-so-proper duke brother would marry a woman who had spent her life among musicians in Italy, even if she was the disinherited daughter of a duke?” Belatedly he remembered that the new duchess was Destry’s aunt.

“When you see them together you know it is a love match.”

“I have no doubt of it,” Jess said, relieved that Destry was not offended, even if the man was beginning to see the whole world through the prism of the lovesick. He had barely even met the woman. “Or that my brother David would marry such a lively ingénue as Mia Castellano.”

“She is that. Did you know we were engaged for a time?”

“You and Mia Castellano?”

“Certainly not me and Lord David.”

“Good God.” Jess felt more shocked than mortified at his second gaffe. “I’m sorry if mentioning her brings painful memories.”

“Not at all. She is a delightful woman,” Destry said with apparent goodwill. “We both agree now that we are too much alike for a marriage to have worked with anything less than a shouting match on a daily basis. As a matter of fact, the disagreements had begun even before our engagement ended.”

“She and David do seem to thrive on their frequent arguments.”

“As you said, there is no accounting for what will make a marriage work.”

Which was not what he had said at all, but before he could correct Destry the butler announced dinner. Thank God. They were nattering on like a couple of old ladies observing the dance floor.

As he watched, Mr. Brent approached his daughters. Cecilia look relieved, Miss Beatrice a trifle vexed. Jess smiled to himself. Would she be as vexed if he had offered her his arm?

Chapter Six

AS THE COUNTESS took Marquis Destry’s arm, Mr. Brent offered an arm to each of his daughters. Beatrice accepted, but felt compelled to whisper, “Papa, escorting us totally defeats the purpose of finding out who is interested in knowing Cecilia better. And I was looking forward to spending more time with Baron Crenshaw.”

He patted her hand. “There will be plenty of time, daughter. This way the gentlemen know that I will be alert to their behavior, even Crenshaw despite our recent association. The two of you are precious to me.”

Cecilia breathed “Oh, Papa” at this sweet declaration, and Beatrice herself was touched. This would be the first time that he had left them alone among strangers. It only now occurred to her that it might be difficult for him. She leaned her head on his arm and he gave her hand a little squeeze.

To her surprise, instead of turning into the house, and the dining room that could easily seat fifty, the countess led them through the garden and into a copse of trees that hid a summerhouse from view of the main residence.

This summerhouse was one large room decorated like a fairy bower. Made almost entirely of windows and doors, most of them left open to the gentle summer air, the supports between the windows looked like gnarled trees that bloomed into faux leaves painted on the ceiling. The room itself was lit with dozens of candles set in masses of moss with small vases of summer flowers scattered about, on the ledges of the windows and the mantel of a green, marble-fronted fireplace now filled with potted ferns. Beatrice thought it both fanciful and seductive.

The countess spoke in a loud voice until she had the attention of all her guests. “In the last century the third earl constructed a banqueting platform in one of the old lime trees. It actually had a staircase so one could easily reach the space and share a meal with the birds.”

There were gasps and sounds of amazement from her guests.

“Some time ago, a storm rendered it unsafe for more than one or two at a time, but the last earl and I had this room built to recreate the

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