no danger of that,” she replied. “I’ve my own arc to trace across the firmament, and can’t be distracted by a bit of celestial dazzle.”
She and Lord Trask stepped into the drawing room. Her gaze moved over the score of gentlemen and ladies milling around the chamber. She wasn’t precisely awed by the genteel company—Lady Catherton often entertained members of the aristocracy and gentry—but never before had she been amongst them as an equal.
Her gaze touched on the men—and two lone women—in the chamber as she worked to formulate a new plan. The first thing she needed to do was determine who would be the most responsive to the possibility of investing in her business. She had too little time to try to sway anyone unwilling or, worse, hostile.
For the next quarter of an hour, Jess met people whose names she’d read about in the financial and gossip sections of her newspapers. She did her best to keep her outward appearance calm and even, but there was so much opportunity in this one room she practically vibrated with interest.
“Lord Hunsdon,” the marquess said as he guided her toward a thin-framed man with papery fair skin, “this is Lady Whitfield. She’s joining us this year. Lady Whitfield, the Viscount Hunsdon.”
“My lord,” Jess said.
The viscount coolly nodded at her, barely interested in her presence as he turned his attention to Lord Trask. “We’re starting soon, aren’t we?”
“We are,” the marquess said. He glanced at Jess. “Lord Hunsdon is one of the Bazaar’s returning guests. Been coming here for over a decade.”
“You must enjoy the prospect of finding new enterprises,” Jess said. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
“Only when they’re sizable,” Viscount Hunsdon said sourly. “Those small, trifling schemes are worthless to me.”
So much for Lord Hunsdon, she told herself.
From the corner of her vision, she caught sight of the Duke of Rotherby as he listened politely to a stooped, elderly gentleman. The frailty of the older man highlighted the duke’s robust vitality.
Awareness bloomed in her stomach. If she was wise, she’d give him a wide berth. She had a purpose here, and it wasn’t flirting with an outrageously handsome duke. Oh, but she liked it, though. Liked him.
What were the layers beneath his polish? It would be an adventure to find out. And, given what the marquess had said about the duke’s easygoing attitude toward his amours, His Grace would never ask for anything substantive.
“Lady Farris,” her host said as they approached a handsome woman with streaks of gray in her dark brown hair. “This is Lady Whitfield. I believe this will be the first year both of you have attended the Bazaar.”
Lady Farris’s eyes brightened. “Oh, thank goodness I’m not the only virgin here.”
Lord Trask coughed into his fist, but Jess laughed.
“I promise I will make our first time gentle and respectful,” Jess said.
“Not too gentle and respectful, I hope. Or else I may find myself nodding off.”
Their host looked slightly scandalized. “Ladies! This is a serious gathering.”
“Absolutely correct, Lord Trask.” Lady Farris gave his sleeve a consoling pat. “Your pardon. I’m only just out of mourning and I forget myself. I will endeavor to be on my best behavior.” But she shot a wink in Jess’s direction before drifting away.
“She used to be so decorous,” Lord Trask murmured. He shook his head.
“Ho, there, Trask,” the duke said from across the chamber. “Are we to mill about like so many geese in need of herding, or shall we commence?”
“Presently,” the marquess said. “I’m escorting Lady Whitfield to a seat.”
Lord Trask guided her to a place on one of the numerous sofas arranged in the room. As she sat, a gentleman hurried to take the place beside her. Jess gave the man a polite smile, all the while assessing whether or not he would make for a good investor in McGale & McGale.
“Ilsington.” The duke stood in front of the sofa and aimed a dry look at the man seated beside Jess. He nodded toward a chair on the periphery of the room. “You’ll be more comfortable over there. Good, fresh breeze from the open window keeps the mind clear.”
“How right you are, Your Grace.” The man leapt to his feet, bowed at Jess, then quickly made his way to the indicated chair by the window.
The duke folded his long body onto the sofa, his movements sure and smooth. He glanced at Jess, a small smile notched in the corner of his mouth. “Do you mind if we share the sofa? I’m terrifically old and