One More Kiss

CHAPTER Thirty





“THIS IS THE first day that I have not been thoroughly entertained,” Beatrice announced to her sister as Darwell helped them undress. “Of course, it could have been my mood. What did you think, Cecilia?”

“Lord Crenshaw’s skill at archery was impressive but it was hardly fair to challenge the other gentlemen without advance warning so that they could practice.” Cecilia sat at the dressing table and applied some of the face cream that Katherine insisted was the best available. It smelled odd but felt silky soft.

Darwell gathered their dresses and took them into the dressing room.

“And did you notice, Beatrice, that he was not at dinner this evening? The countess said he had a meeting and would be back in the morning. Do you think he went to see Mr. Wilson?”

“Lord Crenshaw is going to offer for her so soon?”

So Beatrice was as surprised as she was. “Perhaps he is just asking for permission to court her,” Cecilia suggested. “But why would her family agree to that before her Season?”

“Because they have two other daughters to bring out, one in each of the next two years,” Beatrice explained as she rolled down her stockings. “Katherine and I were talking about that after dinner. They are all so close in age that her father suggested bringing them out in two groups rather than individually, but Mrs. Wilson said that each must have her own time in London.”

“No wonder Mr. Wilson wants to be sure his estates prosper.”

“And would be inclined to welcome Crenshaw’s courtship, don’t you think?”

Darwell came back into the room in time to hear that last and made a sound of disgust. Cecilia thought perhaps this was not something they should discuss around their maid, given her dislike of the man.

“Surely Lord Crenshaw will be back in time for the race,” Beatrice ventured. “No one wants to miss that, if only to see the spectacle of the marquis riding sidesaddle.”

“Lord Jess told me at dinner that—” Cecilia stopped speaking. “I am sorry, Bitsy, I forgot that you made me promise to never say that man’s name again.”

“I will excuse the lapse but next time I will threaten to make you ‘eat soap,’ as Mama used to say.” She spoke without smiling.

Cecilia’s face must have shown her shock, because Beatrice started to laugh.

“Ceci, don’t look at me that way. You know how often Mama followed through on that threat.”

“Never,” Cecilia said, relaxing enough to try one more time. “I wish you would confide in me.”

“There is no point.” Her sister answered without hesitation, and Cecilia knew it was hopeless to press her further.

“I thought Lord Jess and I did a credible job of being civil to each other.”

“Yes, if you consider endless curtsies and bows a sign of civility. Did you even once answer any question he addressed to you?”

“Yes,” Beatrice said. “When he asked me if I would like the chicken I told him I would. And another time I accepted the salt to pass to Lord Belmont.”

“Charming,” Cecilia said, meaning the opposite. “Everyone noticed, you know.”

“They did not. I watched and they all had their eyes on the earl and Mrs. Kendrick.”

“Not everyone did, Bitsy, believe me. But Nora and the earl were in amazingly good spirits. I swear I saw Mrs. Wilson roll her eyes. As if she had never seen two people falling in love.”

Cecilia saw Darwell press her lips together to keep from smiling. The maid gathered up their clothes and took them into the dressing room, leaving them to don their nightgowns.

“Oh, I think it’s more than that,” Beatrice said. “I think they’re sharing a bed.”

“Really?” Cecilia’s expression of ennui disappeared instantly. “Here in this house?”

“They are not renting a room at the village inn. Yes, here in this house. It is a house party and those sorts of liaisons are common enough.” Beatrice held the sophisticated pose for a few seconds longer and then widened her eyes. “I wonder how they manage it. Does one arrange it beforehand, or just knock on the door?”

“We could ask Darwell.” Cecilia was delighted to see her sister’s eyes lit with curiosity again.

“No, we cannot ask Darwell. And that’s another thing. What about maids and valets? When do they know to disappear and where do they go?”

“Do not ask me.” Darwell spoke with disapproval. “I heard you from the other room,” she explained.

Darwell took Cecilia’s brush from her and finished the last of the strokes that kept her hair so lustrous. “Now change the subject. It is not seemly for two young ladies to discuss such goings-on. You would do better to discuss the plant demonstration that Miss Cecilia will give in two days.” She spoke to Cecilia’s reflection in the mirror. “You have only one more day to prepare.”

“Oh, Darwell,” Cecilia moaned. “Why did you remind me? Now I will never be able to fall asleep.”


BEATRICE FINISHED BRAIDING her hair and wished that something as innocent as her talk on Rembrandt’s drawings would keep her from sleep. All she could do when the lights were out and distractions were gone was think about Jess and the way he’d made her feel.

Worst of all was the niggling fear that he might be right, that she would give in to the next man who tempted her.

No, that wasn’t true. She could not imagine lying with anyone but Jess. No other man’s touch had ever made her feel wanton and so irresponsible that nothing mattered but being with him in every way possible.

Of course there had not been any other men, but even when she first saw him from the window she had felt a strong attraction. And that had never ever happened to her before.

There were a hundred reasons why being with him would be wrong, not the least of which was that Jess would think her easy and lose any respect that he might still have for her. And she would lose hers for him, she admitted to herself. She sighed.

And tried to redirect her thoughts by counting the number and placement of old master drawings she had seen this past fortnight.