One More Kiss (25 page)

W
HAT IN THE
name of all that was holy was Beatrice doing here with her sister, Jess wondered. And what did it say about his supposedly nonexistent sense of responsibility that he cared how much she had seen and heard?

“Excellent,” Destry announced, jumping up from his seat. “You are like a breath of fresh air.” He laughed, hurrying over to them. “Do come join us.”

He grabbed Cecilia’s hand and pulled her farther into the room. The act was rude in its insistence, and not something any lady would welcome. Beatrice followed with more caution than she’d ever shown before.

Destry’s overfamiliarity convinced Jess that while he had been engrossed in play, his friend had decided to keep company with Belmont and Nora Kendrick at the drinks table.

“Come, come,” Des urged her. “We were taking a break, and fortifying ourselves for the next game.”

“I don’t think we will be staying. You see—” Cecilia started to pull her hand from his, but something made her stop. Probably Destry’s wounded puppy look, the one he put on when he was disappointed.

“We only stopped in for a moment to see if anyone was planning on riding in the morning,” Beatrice said. She stopped moving into the room, pausing only halfway to the table where Cecilia now stood. “Cecilia loves a morning outing, and I will not be able to join her tomorrow.”

Beatrice had seen it all, Jess thought with regret. He could tell by the way she would not meet his eyes, the stiffness of her words, and the way she held her body. Or, a new thought occurred to him, was she regretting their impetuous kiss? Oh, he hoped not. She had been much too enthusiastic to regret it. Or perhaps it was the enthusiasm she regretted. Fearing he was being as silly as Destry without even spirits as an excuse, Jess pushed the speculation out of his head.

“Riding? Tomorrow morning? Yes,” the marquis said eagerly. “Join me! Come along with me!”

Jess cringed at his friend’s overly animated invitation.

“Thank you, my lord,” the beauty said, her eyes on the carpet. “But despite my sister’s inquiry on my behalf, I do believe we are committed to breakfast with Miss Wilson tomorrow morning.”

“Then come join us now,” Destry insisted, bowing this time instead of going behind her and pushing her.
Thank God
.

His little Venus, the one who knew no fear, hesitated.
“But we are beginners. We would not want to play too deep and we fear that will bore the rest of you. I think we should say good night.”

Yes, she had seen it all. He left his spot near the wall and crossed to her, Destry, and Cecilia.

He bowed to the sisters. “Indeed, we have played deep enough for one evening and very unusual play it was. Come, let us introduce you to gaming in a more relaxed manner.”

The Earl of Belmont made to leave. Introducing young ladies to some innocent gaming was, apparently, not the way he wanted to spend the rest of the evening. But a slight shake of Mrs. Kendrick’s head sent him back to his seat.

Exactly. If they left there would be no one to chaperone the two young women
.

Des seated Cecilia, pushing her chair so close to the table that Jess doubted the woman could draw breath.

Beatrice was left to her own devices. Jess came around the table and pulled out a chair for her. Instead of sitting, she turned to him. She gave him a look tinged with desperation.

“He’s had too much to drink, my lord. I brought Ceci here to spend time with him, to see how charming he can be. This is a disaster in the making.”

“Beatrice, I learned from observing my siblings that when it comes to affairs of the heart, it is wisest to let the lovers find their own course.”

“But the marquis is your friend, my lord. Don’t you see that this will spoil everything?”

Though he was not sure if “everything” meant anything more than her sister’s happiness, Jess nodded.
“Yes. It’s pure torture to watch Destry make a fool of himself.”

“My lord, do something or I will never let you smother me with kisses.” She tugged at his sleeve as if she did not have his full attention. She did.

“It’s ravish you with kisses, Beatrice. I want to ravish you with kisses. Smothering is something else entirely, and not nearly as comfortable.”

She looked down, but he heard her laugh. She did not respond in any other way, but pushed him toward the game table.

“Do something about Destry. Please!”

Lost in their flirtation, Jess missed Destry’s next misstep.

“I thought the markers represented coins, my lord,” Cecilia said with a touch of primness.

“They can, but they can represent any item that one is willing to wager. A token perhaps?”

What Destry wanted was a kiss. Did anyone doubt that?

“A penny.” Belmont spoke firmly. “You will play for a penny.”

“Yes,” Jess agreed as Belmont raised his eyebrows, which was as close to censure as the earl came.

With a gracious bow, the earl and Nora Kendrick stood and relinquished their place to Jess. The couple moved to another table to play some two-handed game that Jess was sure would necessitate heads close together and soft words.

“I thought that we could try something that did not involve counting,” Destry insisted. “Miss Brent has told me that counting is not her strong suit.”

“I am not a dunce, my lord.” Cecilia’s tone conveyed
more insult than amusement. “I can count to twenty and on a good day even as high as fifty.”

“What shall we play?” Beatrice asked, her air of desperation revealing itself in a too-bright smile.

Under most circumstances, Jess would have suggested simply wagering on the cut of the cards, but something that easy would only be taken as an insult to Cecilia’s intelligence. Besides, it was terminally boring unless the stakes were high.

“One of my favorites is to wager on the cut of the cards,” Destry said, though Jess knew that for a lie. “Each of us puts a marker in the middle.” They all did so. Cecilia’s abrupt movements all but shouted, “I do not want to be here!”

Jess pressed himself back in his chair as if that would put him out of range of Cecilia’s ire.

“Now as dealer, I will cut the deck. And you must state whether you think the next card will be higher or lower than the card I show. For simplicity’s sake, let us agree to wager on only whether the card will be higher.”

“Oh yes,” Cecilia said sweetly, “do keep it as simple as possible.”

Jess could see that Beatrice, too, had given up on trying to salvage the evening and was waiting to gather up the pieces.

“Excellent!” Destry gave Cecilia a winning smile, and Jess was sure he had no idea how many insults he was showering on the woman he hoped to marry.

If only to keep his run of bad moves consistent, or perhaps to illustrate how bad his luck was, the card Destry drew was the queen of spades.

“How lucky for me,” he said with the enthusiasm no
true gambler would ever express. “You can wager, if you wish, but there are only six chances for you to best me.”

Both players shook their heads and Destry won. Similar draws occurred for two more hands. That was when Cecilia decided she had had enough.

“Thank you, my lord, but I find I am fatigued by the play, and must say good night.” She stood before Destry could say anything. “Beatrice?”

Without waiting for more than her sister’s glance, Cecilia made her way to the door. Beatrice usually led the way, but not tonight. She jumped up from her chair and followed her sister.

How fascinating, Jess thought. So this was Cecilia Brent angry. Very calm, very controlled, but near a boil all the same. No one, except the drunk and completely oblivious Destry, could miss the heat.

Destry ran after her. “Wait, wait, you can’t leave.”

Cecilia turned to speak and saw that he was about to grab her arm. Again. She moved it and he fell forward. Destry maintained his footing, but ran his head into the wall with a distinct thud.

He staggered back and fell on his ass with his hands raised to his head. There was no blood, but Jess was sure the man was seeing stars.

“Oh dear, the marquis has fallen down,” Cecilia announced to the room in general. She stepped around him and out the door without a backward glance. Beatrice did hesitate, glancing at Jess who shook his head. “Leave!” he said.

She nodded and left him with Destry.

“Go after them, Jess.” Destry looked up, wincing as
even that movement made his head ache. “Go after them and explain.”

“Explain what?” Jess could not help but vent his frustration. “Yes, now that I give it some thought, I could easily explain that you are a buffoon but only when you are drunk, which happens so rarely it’s a guarantee of disaster.”

Destry nodded, but stopped when a spasm of pain reminded him of his head injury.

“I suspect they will close the door in my face before I even half explain, but I will try.”
Only because it matters to Beatrice
. Her sensibilities should not matter to him so much—that they did was proof positive that he was falling deeper and deeper under her spell.

The footman opened the door for Jess, and as he left he could hear Nora Kendrick directing the servant who was ministering to Destry. “Help him up, and make sure that he has a walk in the fresh air.”

Relieved that the man’s folly was not life-threatening, Jess began the long walk to the front of the house and down a flight to the second floor, where he had seen Beatrice upon his arrival. From what they had said over the last few days, he understood that the twins were sharing one of the finer suites.

He could neither see them nor hear their footsteps or voices. The sisters must be all but running from the game room. Not that he blamed them.

Jess wished that he could resolve the headache that he was facing as he tried to smooth over Destry’s mess. If only the apothecary sold a tonic that erased memory. It would solve so many problems. Even some of his own.

Chapter Twenty-two
 

J
ESS SAW THE
last of Beatrice’s green dress as she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. He did not think about propriety as he knocked. It was Beatrice and not the maid who opened it and she was, naturally, taken aback by his presence.

“Now is not a good time, my lord.”

It was an understatement. From what he could hear, Cecilia’s temper had finally let loose.

“Does he think I am a simpleton? No more than a pretty face?” Cecilia’s back was to the door as she went on, Darwell her very sympathetic audience. The maid did not so much as glance at Jess but he knew she was aware of his presence.

“And I knew exactly what he was hinting at when he suggested a token instead of money. Did he think I was so taken with him that I would use the counters to wager kisses? What if one of the other gentlemen had
won? Then I would have had to kiss him, too. The marquis may not care a fig for propriety, but I do!”

“Miss Brent,” Jess tried, “I do apologize on the marquis’s behalf. Please hear me.”

She whirled toward the door and then left the room completely.

“This is one of those times when I still miss Mama dreadfully.” Beatrice’s confidential whisper was barely audible. “She would know exactly what to do to calm Ceci.”

With a glance over her shoulder, Beatrice stepped out into the passage and closed the door behind her.

“I think it is useless to try to be a mediator tonight.” She did not wait for his agreement. “Unless he and Cecilia marry in a blaze of romantic sensibility this will not be an evening anyone remembers fondly.”

The passage was not the right place to try to cut Destry’s losses, but to suggest a place more private would be inviting trouble all his own. Jess took a step into the middle of the corridor and Beatrice followed him.

“The marquis rarely drinks,” he began, “and I can hardly think of a time when he has done so to excess.”

Beatrice shook her head, rejecting that attempt. “If you tell her that, she will think that she drove him to it.”

“She did,” Jess said, drawing a glare from her. “Listen to me, please, before you start shouting, too. Destry is convinced she will have nothing to do with him because his size offends her and she would be embarrassed to be seen in public with him.”

“That’s just stupid. Cecilia knows better than most not to judge people based on appearance.”

“Yes, yes, I can see how that would be true.”

Beatrice smiled, apparently pleased by his quick grasp of the idea.

“The fact is, my lord, that Cecilia is afraid to allow a courtship because she is sure she could never be a proper duchess. Doing everything as perfectly as she can has always been so important to her.”

“She is afraid of failing?” Now he was aghast. “She’s already demonstrated her talent for acting regal. That freezing tone she used when she left the room this evening was better than anything my mother ever tried.”

Beatrice made a face as she tried to recall that moment and then laughed suddenly. “Yes,” she said, then stopped the laugh with a glance at the door, now firmly shut. “The way she looked at me and said ‘Beatrice?’ made me dare not refuse to accompany her.”

Beatrice clapped her hands and then sobered. “But, you see, you are right on one point. She hates to be embarrassed and Lord Destry embarrassed her. One upset like that calls to mind all her worst worries. I’ve seen it time and again. In this case the worry is that a gentleman will not even try to see beyond her beauty, that she will be married for the money she can bring to a union, that her husband will think jewels and baubles will be all she needs to be happy.” Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “My lord, the marquis’s blunder could not have been worse.”