One More Kiss - By Mary Blayney Page 0,31

Venus, as he still thought of her, was now in earnest conversation with Destry with the same intensity she had shown with Crenshaw. It could just be her way. He wondered how that intensity would show itself in the bedroom. He smiled at the thought and banished it as quickly. He was not shopping in the marriage mart. Not this week or this year. Maybe never. And Miss Brent was not suited to anything less than lifelong commitment.

He forced himself to avert his eyes, and immediately caught sight of Miss Cecilia Brent. Beatrice’s sister was a beauty and would have no trouble garnering all the attention she could crave, even if she was alone at the moment, staring out the window. He took a step in her direction as he eyed the last couple.

The countess and Mr. Brent stood together talking to a young man who had just come in, not one of their party. The countess and Brent were a pairing he never would have guessed, but the way they stood so close, their clothes touching, if not their bodies, told him that they were deep into an affair and still delighted with it.

Jess recalled the countess’s husband, who had been more interested in directing the farming of his land than in London or Parliament. As a husband he had regarded his wife with an offhand affection. They had lived apart for months at a time, the countess spending the entire season in London while the earl was on his estate. The arrangement had seemed to suit them both.

Mr. Brent could not be more different. He was intense and dogged in his pursuit of whatever he wanted; at least, that was what Jess’s brother David had told him. Thinking back to how Brent had escorted his daughters into dinner, Jess decided he was either as controlling as Crenshaw or very protective of those he loved. Perhaps both.

Venus finally saw the man who was talking with the countess and her father. With a word to Destry they both joined that group. She greeted the young man with such enthusiasm that Jess realized they were friends of long standing. Perhaps more than friends.

It didn’t matter to him. He was a confirmed bachelor, Jess reminded himself, for the second time in as many minutes. He looked about at his fellow guests, several of whom were also watching the tableau by the door. Relieved he was not the only one fascinated by Beatrice, Jess moved across the room to Miss Cecilia, who would surely know the newcomer’s identity.

Chapter Ten

CECILIA DID NOT give him a chance to ask about the new member of their group, but launched immediately into conversation without her usual blush of embarrassment. “There is the loveliest night-blooming jasmine on the patio.”

“Flowers are not my forte, Miss Brent. Exactly what is lovely about it? Are not all flowers lovely?”

“Yes, but what I thought was—” She paused and then started again. “What I meant was that it is unusually thriving and lush.” She turned and looked at him for the first time. “It has found the perfect spot to bloom. Do you know the scent of the jasmine?”

“Only from perfumes.”

“Let’s go outside and you can experience it. I would love a closer look.”

With a glance at the party behind them, Jess opened the door and they stepped out onto the patio. The night was still warm and the air carried the scent of the profusely blooming plant’s hundreds of small star-shaped flowers.

Miss Brent turned to him. “The fragrance of the jasmine reminds me of summer nights and secrets, mysteries even.”

“Exquisite,” Jess said. The same could be said of the woman before him. While her sister was the one who captivated him, he had to acknowledge that Cecilia Brent had the kind of beauty that made one look again. At the moment she was especially lovely, and the flowers that surrounded her paled by comparison.

She smiled. Ignoring the intimacy of the moment, indeed unaware of it, she walked over and stooped down to touch the soil of the plant.

Jess stayed within sight of the window and as far away from the young woman as courtesy would allow. This was no attempt at flirtation for Cecilia. Who would have known that she had such a profound interest in flowers? So serious was her interest that the possible impropriety of their situation had not ever occurred to her.

Though he was certain that she was not interested in anything but the plants, he still wished they

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