Free The Naked Viscount by Sally Mackenzie Page B

the full sketch,” Lord Motton said. “There must be other members of the ton depicted.”
    â€œLike the Mouse?” Jane asked. That was the only logical explanation for the man’s questions.
    Lord Motton nodded. “He’s not in this portion of the drawing, but, yes, it would seem so. Do you have any idea who else might be involved, Stephen?”
    â€œNo, sorry. I’ve heard rumors about a new club—well, not new, precisely. More an old club that’s changing. No one will say much—never more than a word or two, and then whoever is speaking stops, looks around, and changes the subject.”
    â€œDamn.” Lord Motton glanced at Jane. “Your pardon, Miss Parker-Roth.”
    Jane waved her hand dismissively. “Please, my lord, don’t regard it.”
    He smiled briefly and then turned to point something out to Stephen. “What’s that, do you know?”
    Jane tried again to see the drawing, but Stephen held it up, out of her sight.
    â€œIt’s a rather well-done rendering of Magnolia grandiflora. ” Stephen handed the sketch back. “Clarence was obviously very talented in a number of areas. He could easily have drawn for Curtis’s Botanical Magazine had he wanted to.”
    â€œI see.” Lord Motton put the paper back in his pocket. “And do you happen to know where I could find one of these plants?”
    Stephen laughed. “You might try the garden here. Last time I looked, Palmerson had an excellent specimen.”
    â€œReally? Then I think we should—”
    â€œWhy, look who’s here!” Lady Lenden came up in a rustle of silk and a choking cloud of lily of the valley, Lady Tarkington behind her. She appeared completely unaware that she had just interrupted the viscount. “Lord Motton and Mr. Parker-Roth! How wonderful. We don’t see enough of you gentlemen, do we, Bella?”
    â€œNo, indeed. I believe this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on you two all Season.”
    Jane rolled her eyes. It was not as if the women had had many opportunities to encounter Lord Motton and her brother—the Season was barely underway.
    Lady Tarkington tapped Stephen on the arm with her fan. “Are you just back from foreign climes with crates full of exotic plants, sir?”
    Neither of the women had yet even blinked at Jane. Had she vanished? She looked down. She could still see herself. She reached out to brush one of the palm fronds. It moved. So she hadn’t turned to vapor and disappeared.
    â€œNo, Lady Tarkington,” Stephen was saying, “I’ve been here since the Season opened; I suppose our paths just haven’t crossed.”
    â€œAh, well, we will have to fix that, won’t we, sir?” Lady Tarkington dimpled up at him.
    Stephen shrugged. “Unfortunately I leave shortly for Iceland.”
    â€œOh, dear. What a tragedy! What can we do, Lydia?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Lady Lenden put her hand on Lord Motton’s arm and stroked it. “You aren’t going away as well, are you, Lord Motton?”
    Jane had never liked Lady Lenden, but she truly detested her now. The woman had just passed her thirtieth year. She was forty years younger than her husband, the earl, and had done her duty promptly, presenting him with his heir and spare in the first three years of their marriage. She had been amusing herself with other men ever since. It was common knowledge her third child, a daughter, was the product of her liaison with Mr. Addingly.
    Lord Motton removed his arm. “Not from London, but I’m afraid I must leave this little group. I was just about to ask Miss Parker-Roth to stand up with me for the next set.” He turned to Jane. “Would you care to dance, Miss Parker-Roth?”
    Jane grinned at him. She had lov—admired him for years, but he’d just risen even higher in her estimation. “Why, thank you, yes, my lord. That would