One More Kiss (22 page)

“Beatrice?” Olivia’s tone made it clear that it was not the first time she had called out her name. “I think we must find a way to encourage your sister to at least look at William. He will never force himself on anyone. I know this for a fact since he once proposed to me when he thought I was in need of rescue from disgrace. But he did not seem at all upset when I declined, without much tact I might add.

“Then Mia and William decided to marry without thinking at all about the difference between friendship and marriage. They were much too like-minded, both eager for the next adventure and willing to risk everything to enjoy it. If they had married, it would have been a disaster!”

“Two proposals?”
How many different proposals had the man made?
Two made him sound as though he could not make up his mind. If he was that quixotic,
then he would not do at all for her sister, who needed a loving and loyal husband above all else.

Olivia must have read her thoughts for she bounced out of her chair and moved closer, taking Beatrice’s hands. “Do not blame William. He was not treated well by his grandfather, who played all sorts of games to convince him to marry me.” Olivia sighed and shook her head. “I cannot imagine having a grandfather who told you that the family would be better off if you died and the dukedom went to some distant cousin in the Bahamas.”

His grandfather had actually said that? How awful.

“Sometimes,” Olivia went on in a voice that was more speculative than certain, “sometimes I think William is so wild because he doesn’t think it matters if he lives or dies. Loving the right woman could change that. But the right woman was not me or Mia Castellano.”

Olivia’s musings made Beatrice see the marquis in a different way, certainly with more sympathy than before.

“Anyway,” Olivia said with a shift of mood, “Mia’s happy marriage to David proves that she needed someone far more restrained than William. Two men could not be more different than William and David.” Olivia laughed out loud at some mental image or comparison. “Excuse me, Beatrice, just a silly memory of the two of them. It still makes me laugh.”

Beatrice wondered if she would ever have a chance to meet the rest of Olivia’s eccentric family.

“We have to find a way to give William one more chance with your sister. Surely we can come up with
an idea that will bring them together. A way neither of them can refuse.”

“I suppose,” Beatrice agreed, halfheartedly. “But, Olivia, attraction is one thing. Dealing with the ways that a connection like that would change lives is another matter entirely.” That seemed an obscure but genteel way to address Cecilia’s terror at the idea of being a duchess.

Olivia was lost in thought and did not hear her. “Beatrice, I think I know exactly how to do it.”

Chapter Eighteen
 

“M
Y LORD, THE
fishing expedition must have been very successful. The servants were quite weighed down with the catch.”

Beatrice Brent spoke to Destry as she came across the lawn from the summerhouse, a book in her hand. That mischievous smile always made him smile back. Beatrice at her most engaging was a delight. Why could he not be fascinated by her instead of her sister?

William dropped the ball he had been playing with and clapped his hands together. “It was an excellent outing all in all, capped by Jess falling into the river. The fish appreciated the entertainment as much as we did.”

“Really? He fell in the river?” Beatrice smiled, though he could see worry in her eyes. As if a man could catch a chill on a day this warm.

The marquis picked up the ball again and began
tossing it into the air and catching it. Then he added a second.

“I see that you juggle,” Beatrice said.

“Yes, I do.” He did not care how classless she thought the talent. “It’s what I am going to demonstrate this evening.”

He picked up a third ball and added it to the other two. He managed an impressive string of tosses before he missed one, but made up for it by catching all three and pretending that the display was complete. “I always do better with an audience.”

“Do you use an assistant when you perform?”

“I’ve never performed before, but that’s not a bad idea. If she was pretty enough she would distract the audience from my lack of perfection.” He cocked his head, considering, and then had a brilliant idea. “Do you think your sister would be willing to help me?” It would be one way of getting Cecilia to talk to him. She had been as elusive as a butterfly these last few days.

Beatrice smiled in approval. Had that been what she was aiming for all along?

“I will go ask her now,” she said.

“Excellent.” It could only help to have Cecilia’s sister in his corner. “If I can have her attention for a few minutes before I perform, that would be adequate.”

B
EATRICE DID HER
best not to run from the lawn and upstairs to find Cecilia. She burst into their bedroom and immediately spotted Cecilia reading in a chair near the window.

“Put that book down, Ceci, and talk to me.” Beatrice waited while her sister complied. She had probably
not been reading anyway. Pretending to read was just one more way Ceci had of avoiding conversation when she wanted to think through a problem. She should have been dressing for dinner. Now that was odd. Where was Darwell?

“The marquis was telling me today how nervous he is about demonstrating his skill this evening.” That was a total and complete lie, but if this worked Ceci would never know.

“What is he going to do?” Her sister’s eyes lit with interest.

“He is going to juggle.” She did her best to make it sound like a skill to be admired.

“You mean like a performer at a fair?”

“Yes, doesn’t it sound like fun?”

“Hmmm” was Ceci’s ambiguous response.

“Oh, do not be a snob and say that it sounds common.”

“No, never, but juggling is hardly an intellectual endeavor. I do wonder if the marquis was speaking the truth when he said that he had never read before he suggested we read
Frankenstein
.”

“His given name is William. Olivia told me.”

“His name is William? Very heroic sounding, is it not?”

“Yes, it is.”
That’s better
. “He said that he could use an assistant this evening and, Ceci, he asked me if I could talk you into helping him.”

“He did?” Her amazement was obvious.

“Yes, he said that having you in front of everyone with him would help distract the others from any mistakes he might make.”

“Any woman could do that.”

“But he asked for you, sister! Not me. Or Katherine. Or Mrs. Kendrick.” She could have gone on but felt her point was made. “And you thought he was avoiding you. He clearly is not.”

“But I cannot assist. I have excused myself from dinner tonight.” Cecilia began to twist her hands together. “I don’t feel well.”

“Nonsense, Ceci. You are never sick a day. You’re just making an excuse to avoid Lord Destry.” Beatrice looked around the room. “Where is Darwell?”

“Callan, Lord Jess’s valet, came to the door and asked for her assistance with something. She promised to be back in time to help you dress.”

“Then we had best start right away since you
are
going to dinner and you
are
assisting Lord Destry.”

Beatrice went into the dressing room and opened the clothes press. She hoped Cecilia would follow. Beatrice had no idea what would be the best sort of dress to wear for such a performance.

Cecilia did join her, but she closed the lid on the dresses. “I cannot do it, Bitsy. I hate being the center of attention. You know that.”

“They will all be watching him juggle.”

“Then why does he need me?”

Ceci did have a point. “I told you, to hand him his various props and look approving.” Hoping, praying that what she was about to say would not ruin everything, Beatrice took the risk. “Consider this, Ceci. He is asking for your help. To refuse would be so unkind, would tell him once and for all that you think he is not worthy of your attention.” Beatrice lifted the lid of the press again.

“But that’s not true at all,” her sister said with some
urgency. She eyed the dresses. “I’ll be terrified the entire time. But you do have a point. I would never want him to think I find him lacking.”

With a resigned sigh, Ceci lifted a dress out. “I think this pale pink. It will not call attention to me the way a bolder color would, and it is a fabric that does not wrinkle much so we can manage without Darwell having to iron it.”

Beatrice’s dress was already hanging. A blue that was more marine than true blue, it was one of her favorites of the new gowns.

Before they could do more than don clean shifts and tie each other’s stays, Darwell was back. She looked as composed as usual, so Beatrice had to rethink the idea that she and Callan were having their own love affair.

She had love on the brain. Not everyone here was falling in love. She was the perfect example of that and so was Mrs. Wilson, though one presumed she was in love with her husband.

Darwell accepted that Cecilia had changed her mind, but did comment to Beatrice as she did her hair. “I knew it was all a hum, but did not even try to convince her. You seem to be the only one who can do that, miss.”

Cecilia wanted to wear her hair as simply as possible and, though she did raise her eyebrows at the idea, Darwell did not argue. She just gave Beatrice an arch look, hoping she would work her magic again.

Beatrice shook her head and did not try to discourage her sister. Cecilia thought that the simple style would dim her beauty, which made Beatrice want to laugh out loud. If anything, it made her look even more alluring.

“I hope you know what you are doing, miss,” Darwell said to her as they left the room.

Beatrice nodded, trying to look confident but not at all sure she was succeeding.

J
ESS WATCHED THE
performance with more fascination than amusement. The performer he was watching was not Destry, who was doing a creditable job juggling everything from oranges to plates, and even some candleholders that must have been difficult to balance, much less catch.

No, it was Beatrice who had most of his attention. She was as nervous as a mother hen with a new chick out from under her wing. That was an understatement, Jess decided. She was acting as if her entire fate rested on the turn of a single card. She would be the world’s worst card player if she could not control her expressions better.

Cecilia, chick to Beatrice’s mother hen, was managing quite well as Des’s assistant. She concentrated all her attention on the performance, as though Des were dependent on her for good luck.

Cecilia seemed awed by the juggling, but Jess suspected that the audience was as bemused by the vision in pink as they were by the man’s dexterity.

Occasionally Cecilia would glance at her sister. Beatrice’s worry must have communicated itself because those glances did nothing to bolster her confidence. Someone needed to distract Beatrice if only to save the performance. Nominating himself, ignoring the fact that it was just an excuse to be closer to her, Jess left
his spot by the door and joined her where she stood at the back of the group.

“Dinner was a unique experience, was it not?”

“Yes,” Beatrice answered absently, as she gave a bright nod to Cecilia.

“To eat the very fish one has caught has a very basic feel to it.”

“Yes,” Beatrice said again, applauding lightly at a particularly deft catch by Des.

“It made me feel very primitive.” He closed the space between them even more.

“Indeed,” Beatrice said, ignoring his nearness, but he could feel her heat and she did not move away.

“It made me long to throw you over my shoulder, take you to my cave, and ravish you with kisses until you begged for mercy.”

That did draw her attention. She still did not look away from Cecilia but straightened her shoulders. “Begged? I would never beg, my lord. Though I must admit I am curious as to how it feels to be ravished with kisses.” She glanced at him. “Now stop trying to shock me and leave me alone until Lord Destry and Cecilia have finished.”

Despite the set-down, he had to laugh. Her reaction made him want to kiss her all the more. Not wise. Not wise at all. But then wisdom was not a trait particular to any of the Pennistans. They left that to Olivia’s husband, Michael Garrett, who had enough for five men.

“She is not the only one who must have confidence in her. You need to as well. Now is a good time to start.”

She stared straight ahead and he could feel her brain working. “You are right,” she said, as if a man with
insight were the oddest thing in the world. “How did you know that?”

“I’ve spent my life watching people.” Usually at the gaming table but it paid off in other areas as well.

She followed his advice and gave him her full attention. “I’m curious, my lord, where does one go to be ravished with kisses?”

He could tell her, but it would be even more fun to show her.

A hearty round of applause startled her. The other guests moved to the front of the room, giving him an irresistible opportunity.