shook her head. “But I would know that he is an art forger, which is an equally valid basis for blackmail. It would be quid pro quo.”
Her naïveté was showing here, Jess thought. “Yes, but that would end the moment either one of you admitted the forgery and theft to someone else,” he said.
“I am sure neither one of us would be foolish enough to do that,” she insisted with a firm shake of her head, as if she knew the forger as well as she knew herself.
“So you think you could keep your own counsel. Never speak of it to anyone, not even your sister, your twin?” Or your lover? He kept that one to himself.
“Yes, I am sure I could keep the secret. There are many things I never tell Ceci. She does worry so much. About everything.”
“I can see why, if constructing clever ways to steal art is one of your hobbies.” He smiled.
“The earl did ask, my lord.”
“You mean all one must do is ask in order to lead you into a life of crime?” Or sin?
Belmont’s bark of laughter drew both their attention. “Jess, you deserve to be in her black books to even hint that Miss Brent would so easily stray from the right path.”
“Belmont, you are a devil. How do I answer that? It would be rude of me to say that Miss Brent is too sensitive or that I was not teasing at all.”
“Which was it, my lord?” Miss Brent asked, without a smile now. She moved in her seat so that even her skirt was not touching him.
“Neither,” he insisted, feeling trapped.
Miss Brent turned to Lord Belmont. “So here is another mystery for you to solve, my lord.”
Belmont smiled. “Lord Jess’s behavior is no mystery at all, my dear Miss Brent. But I will leave you to decipher it from the clues you have.”
Miss Brent looked from one to the other, clearly wondering what Belmont knew that she did not.
“In the meantime,” Lord Belmont went on, “do tell me how you can tell a real Rembrandt from his lesser imitators. I find I am fascinated and want details, if you please, my dear.”
Jess turned to Mrs. Kendrick, reminding himself that Miss Beatrice Brent was a woman he had no business trying to charm.
LORD DESTRY FINISHED his opening conversation with the countess and, before he turned to her, Cecilia watched him take the salt and sprinkle some into his wineglass. Puzzled, she wondered exactly what that would do to the wine. Anxious to fit in, she took some salt from the cellar nearest her and did the same thing.
“Miss Brent, do tell Miss Wilson that I speak the truth when I say that Birmingham is a far lovelier town than Manchester.”
The question from Lord Crenshaw made Cecilia start, but before she answered, she realized why his questions were always worded like an instruction with only one possible answer. Still, it was an easy enough subject and she was grateful for the escape.
Cecilia leaned forward and spoke to Miss Wilson, who was seated just beyond Lord Crenshaw. “Oh, indeed it is. At least, I think so. Birmingham has such lovely gardens, and a river runs through the middle of the city. There are walking paths and the shops. While it is not at all equal to London, it is far superior to any other city in the Midlands.”
Lord Crenshaw turned to Miss Wilson, who smoothed her hair before answering. “I do believe you show some prejudice, Miss Brent, as Birmingham is your home.”
“We cannot all live in London,” Lord Crenshaw teased. “And Mr. Brent must remain close to his interests in Birmingham.”
All gentlemen had “interests” to attend to. What a nice way of not saying that her father ran mills.
Cecilia sipped her wine while trying to think of a topic of conversation and almost choked at the hideous element the salt flavoring added. She glanced at Lord Destry, who shrugged a shoulder, before returning her attention to Lord Crenshaw.
Miss Wilson was now speaking with the earl, and Lord Crenshaw was watching the girl with an intensity that made Cecilia question his recent interest in Beatrice. He sensed Cecilia’s study of him and turned to her.
“What holds you close to London these days, my lord? We miss you at home.” That was a neutral enough question.
“London has amusements that cannot be duplicated anywhere.” He showed his teeth in a smile that was more suggestive than flirtatious.
“You mean the theater and opera?”
“Indeed, as you will