Free Sinfully Yours by Cara Elliott Page B

cousin’s house party if I were still in the schoolroom.”
    Hoping to forestall further pyrotechnics, Anna took her sister by the arm. “Perhaps we ought to move on, before Lord McClellan decides to roast us as a sacrifice to the Celtic God of War.”
    His mouth twitched, softening for just a fleeting instant his stony visage. “It would be too great a waste of beauty, so I shall confine my murderous impulses to the males of your country.”
    Caro’s eyes narrowed. If looks could kill…
    As her sister hitched in an angry breath, Anna nudged her forward before any retort could be uttered. “Let us try not to spark an international incident on our first night here,” she counseled.
    “Ill-mannered oaf,” muttered Caro.
    “True, the man does display a decided lack of charm and good manners.” Her gaze unconsciously darted around the room again. “If he annoys you, the best thing is to simply avoid any further contact with him.”
    “With pleasure,” replied her sister darkly.
    The chance for any further exchange was ended by Lady Dunbar’s cheerful summons to the German gentlemen to come greet them.
    Lord Saxe-Colza and Count Rupert, two of the unmarried gentlemen among the prince’s party, proved far more polished and polite than the countess’s cousin. Their English was excellent, and they made amiable conversation about their fondness for London and how much they were looking forward to hunting in Scotland.
    The count was especially delighted with Anna’s ability to converse in his native tongue. “I am impressed, Miss Sloane. Most English ladies know only French.”
    “My father was a serious scholar and spoke many languages. I had a good ear for them and he encouraged my interest.”
    “What others do you speak?” inquired Saxe-Colza.
    “French, along with a little Russian and Italian,” replied Anna. “And I can read classical Greek and Latin.”
    “You speak Russian?” remarked Lady Dunbar. “How nice. One of the other guests is Colonel Polianov, an attaché from the Russian embassy in London.”
    “La, but you mustn’t think my daughter is a bluestocking, Count Rupert,” interjected Lady Trumbull. To Anna she added, “Pray, my dear, don’t give the gentlemen the wrong impression. They might think you are bookish.”
    Rupert looked bewildered. “Blue stocking? Is this some new English fashion?”
    Anna smiled. “No, my lord. It is a rather unflattering term for a lady who has an interest in intellectual pursuits. You see, in our country, a lady is not supposed to be too clever.”
    “Indeed, beauty, not brains, is all that matters to a proper Englishman.” Devlin joined their little circle and tossed back a swallow of his champagne. “Is it the same in Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt?”
    The count looked uncertain of how to reply. Clearing his throat with an embarrassed cough, he shot an appealing look at their hostess.
    “Ah, I see that the crown prince has come down from his quarters,” announced Lady Dunbar loudly. Offering her arm to the beleaguered count, she signaled her footmen to throw open the double doors leading to the dining salon.
    “Come, let us all go in to supper.”

Chapter Six
    T he meal over, the ladies returned to the drawing room for tea and cakes while the gentlemen remained in the dining salon to enjoy their postprandial cigars and port. The French duo immediately chose to sit together and seemed little inclined to socialize, despite the efforts of their hostess. The two German countesses were a little more gregarious observed Anna, although their loud voices and brusque comments did not bode well for prolonged conversation. As for the two local Scottish gentry, they quietly helped to pass the cups, and when they did speak, it was hard to understand their burred speech.
    No doubt the initial reserve would soon melt, but for the moment, an air of stiff formality seemed to pervade the room.
    After exchanging pleasantries with the other group of ladies from London,