One More Kiss

CHAPTER Twenty-six





CECILIA WAS WAITING for her. Perfect, Beatrice thought. She could tell her about Darwell, then hear what Ceci and Lord Destry had been talking about.

With effort Beatrice decided she was not going to tell her sister about the kiss to end all kisses. It was the wisest thing to do, considering how Cecilia had reacted last time. Firm in her resolve, she gave Cecilia her complete attention.

“Beatrice, Lord Destry and I are going to have a race.” Ceci grinned; that was the only way to describe her smile. She looked as though she had just been given the most wonderful present.

“A race? That’s what you’re so excited about?”

“What I mean is, Destry and I, we are going to have a cross-country race on horses.”

“Really? A horse race?” Beatrice could not control her dismay. “For the love of God, why in the world would you want to do that? He will run rings around you.”

“Why are you so sure of that? You’re the one who hates to ride. I can handle a horse and they don’t scare me.” Ceci took a half step away from her sister, her smile vanished.

“I’m sorry if it hurts your feelings but I’m only telling the truth.” Beatrice stood her ground.

Cecilia put her hands together and the smile came back, not a grin but a hint of one. “He did agree to give me an advantage.”

“I don’t care if he gives you a five-minute head start, he will win. And you will not be able to jump or go particularly fast.”

“That isn’t true.” Cecilia looked away from her sister.

“You will not jump. You cannot control a horse properly going over a fence riding sidesaddle the way ladies must. I will never speak to you again if you do.” She stood before Cecilia, her arms crossed, trying to look resolute rather than afraid.

“Oh, all right, we will avoid all jumps.”

That was too easy, Beatrice thought.

“We already agreed there would be no jumps.”

“Good,” Beatrice said, her fear easing. “But he can ride astride and you cannot, at least not in company such as this.”

“That is just the thing.” Ceci clapped her hands. “I cannot ride astride so he has agreed to ride sidesaddle.”

“How in the world did you convince him to do that?” Beatrice asked, amazed at what Destry was willing to do to win Cecilia’s approval.

Cecilia looked so smug that Beatrice almost did not care how she had convinced the marquis. Her sister so rarely acted as though she were the one in charge.

“We were having a discussion.” She paused. “Well, to be honest, it was more like the beginning of an argument, over the fact that I am beautiful and he is short. I told him that his height does not matter to me at all and he insisted that, while my beauty is a joy to behold—”

“Ceci,” Beatrice interrupted, “that is such a poetic way to put it. Romantic even.”

“Oh, believe me, there was nothing romantic about his tone of voice. The point was that he knows there is more to me than looks, just as I know he is more than his size.”

Darwell came in then. She gave a brief curtsy to the ladies, and went through the sitting room and into the bedchamber without speaking. Beatrice knew why Darwell was upset, but she had her hands full with Ceci right now. Poor Darwell would have to wait.

“So how did this ‘almost argument’ lead to a cross-country horse race?” Beatrice shook her head. “With Lord Destry riding sidesaddle?”

“We agreed that we are most equal on a horse. His height and my looks have nothing to do with our ability to ride.”

“So you are going to race to prove that you are in fact not equal even when it comes to riding?”

“Oh, Beatrice, you are such a spoilsport. We are going to race because it is a way for me to demonstrate something very important without saying it again and again.”

“And that is?” Beatrice prompted, completely at a loss.

“I am going to let Lord Destry win,” Cecilia announced. “And this is why.” She recounted the story of his grandfather’s plot exactly as she had heard it earlier in the day from Lord Jess.

When Cecilia finished, her sister’s reaction was all she could have wished. “That is one of the cruelest stories I have ever heard, and our grandfather was not the kindly sort himself.”

“But the Duke of Bendas was ten times worse. To actually wish your grandson dead? That was hideous.” Cecilia shook her head. “But the good part of the story is that Destry became a truly skilled horseman. It’s one place where he knows he excels and does not have to continually prove himself.”

“That’s true enough. Lord Jess says he has won a small fortune wagering with people who do not know of his skill.”

Distracted, Cecilia held up a finger. “You will wager on me, Beatrice. It is your duty as a sister.”

“Yes, of course.” They were going to invite everyone to wager? That was just one more element added to the most nonsensical plan Beatrice had ever heard. “But, Ceci, riding is one thing he does take pride in. He does not need to win the race to improve the way he sees himself.”

“Of course not, but I need to prove to him that his height and wealth are not important and that his ability to ride is. And I will be so gracious in defeat that it will be all the proof he needs.”

Beatrice tried without success to recall another time when her sister had been so inclined to stage-manage an event. Which was a good thing as this event made so little sense. “Cecilia, playing a game like that is not a good way to start a courtship.”

“Who has said anything about a courtship?” She looked surprised.

“He has. At least a dozen times to whoever will listen.” That was an exaggeration but it was obvious to anyone with eyes.

“This is no more than a flirtation and it is very important for me to leave here on good terms with anyone that I will meet in London.”

“So his height and his wealth are not important to you but his title is. And his influence and whoever he can introduce you to.”

“You make me sound mercenary.” Ceci looked genuinely offended.

“Not so much mercenary as like every other girl in society who is trying to make a match.”

“Beatrice, take that back.” Annoyance pushed aside hurt feelings. “I am trying not to ruin our chances at having a successful Season and finding a match that suits us perfectly. Someone like Lord Destry but without a title.”

That’s revealing, Beatrice thought. Cecilia just as much as admitted she would want Destry if it were not for his title. The horse race made a tad more sense now. “For one thing, Ceci, I do not need to find a match.” Beatrice walked around the room. I am doing this for you. “And for another, what do you think the chances are that we will be in the same social circle as the daughters of dukes or a marquis? It’s not as though we will be presented at court or be given vouchers to Almack’s.”

“I think there is a very good chance we will be at some of the same outings as Destry and Lord Crenshaw and Katherine Wilson. They are friends of ours now and surely we will be included.”

Their conversation had moved a long way away from the horse race. Beatrice wanted to change the subject—talking about their Season would only upset her sister. It was an event that was still months away and very much an unknown.

“When we are in London and the invitations arrive we will know the truth of the matter, Ceci, but for now I think we should talk to Darwell and see what has upset her.”

“Darwell is upset? Oh, I hadn’t noticed. But yes, we must see what’s wrong,” Cecilia agreed. She closed the space between them. “Beatrice, I am sorry you think the race is a stupid idea, but I am sure it will be just the thing Destry and I need to be comfortable with each other.”

So that was what Cecilia thought this was about. Feeling comfortable with Destry. Ending the tension that had her feeling so uncomfortable when she was with him. All right, she could meet her sister halfway on this. “So you think racing with him will make you two friends so that when you meet in London all will be fine between you?”

“Exactly,” Cecilia said with a smile that showed she and her sister shared a perfect understanding.

Yes, it was an incredibly stupid plan, Beatrice thought, but kept it to herself. She wondered what had prompted Destry to agree and then decided his reasons were probably just as half-witted.