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.
THE 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.
DESTRY APPRECIATED THE neutral subject. Crenshaw and Jess were in too small a company to avoid each other for