Free Wanted: One Scoundrel by Jenny Schwartz Page A

examine the rest of the exhibits with me?”
    “D-d-delighted.”
    By the door, Bambury looked in their direction and scowled.
    Esme smiled. She mightn’t like the man, but with Nellie hanging off one arm and Hannah the other, he was truly punished. From the way they glared at each other, he was shortly to be torn apart in a vicious tug of war. His friend Gordon had taken one look at the man-eaters and vanished. Esme raised a gloved hand in airy farewell. “Toodle-pip.”
    Karmic justice was a beautiful thing.

Chapter Nine
    “Miss Smith, your beauty shames the stars in their golden slumbers.”
    Esme reminded herself not to grimace at Nicholas Bambury’s overdone and ridiculous flattery. She could have done without his attentions. Everywhere she went these days, she stumbled over him. And every time she stumbled, he was there with another compliment, another smirk, another implication she should be honored by his company.
    Odious toad.
    She looked around for Jed, before reminding herself that to do so would only feed the gossip.
    Small town nosey parkers. She was out of patience with everyone. How dare they imply Jed was her suitor! She was sure Nellie and Hannah had started the gossip. The rumors undermined all her political efforts. It made her a trophy and Jed a fortune hunter, and it simply wasn’t true.
    More’s the pity .
    She stifled that small, honest voice.
    “More champagne, Miss Smith?”
    “No, thank you.” She preferred a nice hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s evening, or better yet, a cup of chai. Most of all, she wished Bambury would go away. “Intermission will be over shortly.”
    “And then we’ll be exposed to more of that interminable scratching and screeching.” Disdain dripped from Bambury’s upper class tones.
    Esme’s shoulders stiffened beneath the cashmere shawl she’d wrapped around herself in the cold town hall. She mightn’t appreciate the “music” Mr. Amberley’s automated orchestra created, but she’d be darned if she let this Easterner sneer at her uncle’s friend.
    “I think Mr. Amberley is very clever.”
    “Of course you do.” Bambury all but patted her on her pretty-little-head.
    She turned and made her way back to her seat, a rickety wooden chair. She really couldn’t trust her manners if Bambury continued on this way. Behind her, she heard the creak of his polished boots and the crack of their heels on the scuffed floor as he pursued her.
    She sat, presenting him with her averted profile, and found Jed watching the small drama. His mouth was set in an uncharacteristically stern line before he looked away to answer some comment Mrs. Palmer made.
    The automated orchestra began their tune-up exercises: two violins and a piano player, not quite in concert.
    “If I had ear plugs, Miss Smith, I would lend them to you, and greater love hath no man than that sacrifice,” Bambury murmured insinuatingly.
    Esme maintained a frozen expression, but a glimmer of humor enabled her to endure his presence. She’d just remembered what Mr. Amberley planned for the second half of his entertainment—automated dancing girls. Bambury would hate it.
    The orchestra started playing a scratchy polka, the curtains parted and three clockwork figurines, dressed in badly stitched red satin dresses, wobbled on. Arms linked, they shuffled in unison. Left, right. Forward, back. And for a grand finale, a high kick that landed all three on their backs in a gigantic clatter of metal and whirring, misfiring mechanisms.
    The audience exploded in laughter and snickers. All except Bambury. He sat silent and disapproving, scornful of everyone in the hall.
    Esme’s own giggles died.
    Why on earth is he wasting his time with me?
    For herself, she allowed his escort because of his political importance.
    A blinding light burst upon her. Oh my! She had to tell Jed. Forget the gossip of a relationship between them. Bambury’s pursuit of her was proof her and Jed’s political activity was