a relief that even Lady Olivia is impressed by this display,” Mrs. Kendrick said. “She is a duke’s daughter and grew up in a castle, after all.”
Two older ladies approached them. Not bothering with introductions they launched into conversation, and began talking about how close they were to the lady of the house.
“The countess is unequaled as a hostess,” one said, her double chin shaking as she spoke. “Always trying something new.”
“You are so right, my dear,” the other said as the feather on her head kept time with her nod. They then proceeded to recount several other dinner parties they had attended and finished with an uncertain, “But I have never seen anything quite like the way she has placed tables and chairs right in the ballroom.”
The lady with the feather turned to Beatrice. “You are preparing for a London Season?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then I hope you never have to attend the same soirées as that beauty who is with the gentleman with the red cravat.”
Before Beatrice could explain that she and the beauty were sisters, the other nodded. “This will be excellent practice for a ball. Never doubt for a minute that the countess has a reason for everything she does. Tonight I would imagine she wants to give you both a taste of the ballroom.”
“How very, very generous of her,” Beatrice said, while Mrs. Kendrick pressed her lips together. No rescue from that quarter.
“Generous, yes.” The double-chinned lady tapped Beatrice’s fingers with her fan. “But Jasmine always has self-interest lurking somewhere.”
Her friend was peering at the door when her expression changed. “Who is the gentleman that just this minute came into the room?”
Without another word, the two hurried away, making straight for the door and an introduction.
Beatrice followed their progress and turned back to Mrs. Kendrick, stunned. “It’s Papa.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
“INDEED, IT IS Mr. Brent,” Mrs. Kendrick said as even Finch gave a quiet bark of agreement. The three of them watched the warmth with which the countess and Beatrice’s father greeted each other.
“I think I know what self-interest the countess has at play tonight,” Mrs. Kendrick said. “She wants to dance with your father.”
“Dance with him? But how extravagant.”
“One of the advantages of being a wealthy widow is that you can spend your money any way you choose.”
Beatrice nodded, still astounded that the countess might go to such lengths to spend time with her father.
“Bear in mind that once her son and his new wife return from their wedding trip, the countess will no longer be the lady of the house. This is her last opportunity to entertain in the style she has perfected over the years.”
Lord Belmont and Jess joined them and any other thoughts of Beatrice’s papa and the countess evaporated.
Jess looked wonderful. His coat was a green superfine wool that reminded her of the colors the old masters used; its deep, deep green hinted at mystery. His eyes were not at all mysterious but he cringed, actually cringed, when his gaze fell on her.
“Miss Brent!” The earl’s surprise was genuine. “I wondered to whom Nora was talking.”
“Have you noticed that Mr. Brent has just arrived?” Nora brought them into the conversation with practiced skill. Though her father’s arrival was something Beatrice herself might have avoided mentioning since he and Jess were not on the best of terms.
“Yes, I saw him in the hall when he first arrived.” Belmont barely drew a breath before continuing. “Nora, come look at this wall with me. I think it has a secret door.” Belmont drew her away, leaving Beatrice and Jess together.
She watched them walk away as though all the air in the room went with them. She wondered if Jess felt the same way.
JESS COULD TELL Beatrice had seen him hesitate. What did it say about his gamer’s face that he had not been able to hide that reaction, which she would surely misinterpret? He had hoped to avoid her but only because being this close was so damn distracting.
Now he could see that she felt abandoned. The weather had been lovely, but she was unable to speak even that conventional courtesy. Despite her discomfort she looked especially lovely tonight, rather like a sprite who had deigned to join the mortals for the evening. The jeweled comb in her hair caught the light from the massive chandeliers and sparkled the way her eyes usually did. He knew just the way to bring that sparkle back.
“We must speak of something, Miss Brent. I am not going to leave you