“My lords and my ladies,” the man said, “I am Bartholomew Pine, and I present to you today the solution to rapid communication in major cities.”
He tugged the covering off the cage, revealing a tiny sparrow.
“This solution will be far less expensive than using footmen or hired boys to deliver messages,” Mr. Pine said tremulously. “Trained sparrows will take brief communications from your home to a central hub. You can chirp at someone with your short message. The hub is where the sparrows will feed, so if someone wants to see if they have received a message, they can check the feed, as I call it.”
Confused mutterings rose up from the guests.
“Does that mean we’ll have to continuously hover around the feed to see if anyone has a message for us?” Viscount Hunsdon asked.
“Obviously, you cannot spend all day at the feed,” Mr. Pine stammered.
“That would be a spectacular waste of time,” Baron Mentmore said irritably.
While Jess pitied Mr. Pine for receiving such a poor reception, his idea seemed ludicrous. She shared a look with the duke, and his expression revealed that he felt the same.
She also pitied the poor bird, who hopped around its cage, unable to spread its wings and fly.
“Why not use pigeons?” someone demanded.
“Sparrows are quite tractable, with the right training. I will demonstrate.”
He opened the cage door and reached for the sparrow. The bird immediately flew past his hand and out into the room.
Chaos reigned as everyone leapt to their feet and exclaimed in horror, amusement, or a little of both. Some took cover from the bird’s frantic fluttering. Grown men hid behind furniture and shrieked in alarm as if they were being set upon by bloodthirsty monsters. Their fearful cries made the sparrow carom through the chamber at a blinding speed.
“Take cover, Lady Whitfield,” Lord Trask cried.
“I grew up in the country,” she answered calmly. “Birds don’t frighten me.”
When the sparrow landed upon a tall cabinet, Jess grabbed a nearby chair and brought it over. She climbed up onto the chair, her movements deliberately slow.
“Pretty bird,” she crooned. She gently held out her hand. “Here’s a good bird.”
The sparrow tilted its head and regarded her with its shiny black eye. Her hand inched closer and closer. A little bit more, and she could grab hold of it.
“God help us!” someone screamed.
Alarmed, the bird flew straight toward Jess’s face. She pulled back sharply. The chair beneath her tottered, and she fell—
Into the duke’s arms. He caught her and held her firmly. A gasp escaped her lips as she flung her arms around his neck, but whether it came from her close call or the feel of his solid body against hers, she didn’t know.
All she did know was that she clung to him, while he had a firm grip on the dip of her waist, and their mouths were quite, quite close.
His gaze skimmed down to her lips. She was suddenly dizzy, and startled excitement made her inhalations come even faster. As he lowered her gently so she could stand, she slid down the length of his torso, her thighs brushing against his.
She barely felt her feet when they touched the ground.
If he lowered his head just a tiny bit more, if she rose up on her toes a fraction . . . they would kiss.
She needed to learn his taste, as much as she needed to draw another breath. In minute increments, they drew closer, and closer still . . .
“It’s getting away!” somebody yelled.
The spell between her and the duke broke, and they stepped apart. Twin stains of color stood out on his cheeks, his chest rising and falling.
And then the sparrow took flight from a ledge, out the open window, and into freedom.
She exhaled shakily. At least one of us is getting what we want.
Once everyone had collected themselves, it was time for the next presentation, which was to be held in a dockside warehouse.
Noel brought up the rear of the company as the Bazaar guests filed into the building. The scent of the river lay heavy and dank outside, and within the structure itself, there was a charred scent, as though something had recently been on fire.
Lady Whitfield took several steps back, as though pushed by something unseen. In the dim light within the warehouse, she appeared pale.
He was beside her in an instant. “Are you well, madam?”
“It’s nothing.” She gave him what was likely an attempt at a reassuring smile, but it frayed at the edges. “My sense of