Free After the Kiss by Suzanne Enoch Page B

eyes looking about for a moment before they settled on her. “I know you, don’t I? Lady Isabel Chalsey.”
    She curtsied. “Yes, my lord. May I ask you a question?”
    “Of course.” He looked at his fellows. “Excuse me, gentleman. Someone much more attractive than you wants a word with me.”
    While the rest of them chuckled, Lord Minster motioned for Isabel to precede him to a stand of chairs a few feet away. “Thank you,” she said, taking a seat. “I know this isn’t the most opportune time for any kind of conversation.”
    “That’s why we have the same conversations over and over again at gatherings. After a time everyone knows their parts, even when it’s too noisy to hear anyone but oneself. What may I do for you, my lady?”
    Isabel mentally squared her shoulders. If no one else wanted to give her answers, she’d find them for herself. “Your townhouse was burgled a few weeks ago, was it not?”
    His expression grew more somber. “It was. And I’d give fifty pounds to anyone who handed me the names of those bloody…” He cleared his throat, his face reddening. “I beg your pardon, Lady Isabel. My late wife always said I had too much spleen. I heard that Chalsey House was robbed, as well.”
    She nodded. “Yes. And I was wondering, would you tell me what was taken from you?”
    “It’s not for a lovely young lady such as yourself to trouble over unpleasant things like that.”
    Drat. “I ask on my father’s behalf,” she improvised.
    “Ah. I will send him a list in the morning, then.”
    Forcing a smile, Isabel dipped a shallow curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll tell Papa.”
    As she turned around, Oliver, two glasses of Madeira in hand, appeared through the crowd. “There you are,” he said with a smile. “Minster wasn’t trying to wheedle a space on your dance card, was he?”
    “No. Just being sociable. Besides, thanks to you my dance card is full.” In fact, he’d taken the three best dances for himself.
    His smile deepened. “Good.”
    “Well, that is a shame,” another deep voice drawled from beside her. “That’ll teach me to get my hopes up, I suppose.”
    She looked sideways. “Lord Bramwell. If one of my partners breaks a toe, you shall be the first substitute.”
    He sketched an elegant bow. “Then consider me appeased.” He glanced over at Oliver. “Ah, Tilden. Seeing you puts me in mind of something I saw at the British Museum earlier.”
    Oliver lifted an eyebrow, his stance stiff. “And what might that something be?”
    “They had a new pharaoh’s mummy on display,” Lord Bramwell said smoothly, smiling. “Likeness on the sarcophagus handsome as Adonis.”
    “Well, thank—”
    “And on the inside, sloppily wrapped cotton bandages covering mold and putrified flesh. With the corpse completely hollow of everything but some old straw.”
    Oliver took a hard step forward. “Apologize,” he snarled.
    Lord Bramwell Lowry Johns didn’t move. Instead his smile deepened, though it didn’t touch his black eyes. “I am sorry you haven’t been able to stop encouraging people to say such nasty things about you. You really must work on your character.” He winked at Isabel. “Remember, any broken bones, and I’ll sweep in.” With that he strolled back into the crowd.
    Isabel had no idea what to say. Obviously she couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t heard the exchange. What was surprising was that she’d never noticed the animosity between Lord Tilden and Lord Bramwell Johns before. As she thought about it, they’d never socialized that she could recall. Was it because of Sullivan Waring?
    It had to be. She’d seen Waring and Bramwell together at the horse auctions, and Barbara had said the two men had served together on the Peninsula. They were friends. And she’d been swirling about so happily in her own little world that she’d never noticed anything. It was beginning to seem that Sullivan Waring had done more than kiss her. He’d…opened her