Free Ballrooms and Blackmail by Regina Scott Page B

lamenting the hard heart of
another.” Her gaze brushed his again, as soft as a caress. “Would
you like to know what we say about you?”
    Yes. No! What was he thinking? What was she
doing? Before he could ask, she drew him to a stop along the wall,
glancing both ways as if to ensure they were alone, then pressed
her mouth to his ear.
    “We say Mr. Kent is the reason for His
Grace’s success,” she said, voice low and husky. “He must be as
talented as he is handsome to be given such authority.”
    Nathan tried to pull away from the siren
song, but there was no direction he could move without coming in
contact with her body. And he was certain she knew it.
    He put both hands on her waist, and her eyes
widened. He picked her up and set her back from him, trying not to
think about how those curves would feel in his embrace. Meeting her
startled gaze, he said, “I liked you better when you weren’t
flirting with me.”
    She flamed. “And I liked you better when I
thought you were a gentleman.” Turning, she stalked down the
corridor toward the Emerson box.
    *
    Tears scalded Priscilla’s eyes, and she
blinked them back. She had no reason to feel ashamed. She’d been
doing her job, playing her part, using the gifts she’d been given
to save her family. Always before, the gentlemen had stammered
their admiration. She’d never had one look at her as if she were
being untrue to him. Or herself.
    She drew in a breath and composed her face.
It would never do for her parents to suspect she was moments away
from becoming overset. She knew girls who resorted to smelling
salts for this sort of occasion. She’d never used them. She’d
always considered herself stronger than that.
    She must have succeeded in hiding her
feelings, for her mother and father merely greeted her with a smile
as she returned to her seat. Lady Minerva twisted Priscilla’s ring
on her finger as if unwilling to return it, whatever had
happened.
    “Well?” Emily whispered as the lights dimmed
for the second act.
    “Miss Bigglethorpe denied any association,”
Priscilla whispered back, mindful of her parents and the
sharp-eared Lady Minerva. She certainly didn’t want to part with
another piece of jewelry.
    “I suppose she would even if she was
innocent,” Emily mused.
    “I cannot determine whether she’s lying,”
Priscilla admitted. “But I’m even more convinced that Miss Crandall
is innocent. All she did was stand about wringing her hands. She
hasn’t the courage to try to blackmail me.”
    “I never considered a blackmailer to be
particularly brave,” Emily said. “Otherwise they’d face their
victims with their demands.”
    She had a point. As if Lady Minerva thought
so too, she chuckled. Priscilla waited for her to shush them, but
then she realized the old lady was hanging on their every word.
    She hitched herself closer to Emily. “You
will have to question her. It’s plain this isn’t my skill.”
    “Oh, I imagine you’d do perfectly well,”
Emily replied, “if you were questioning a man. You understand how
they think better than anyone I know.”
    Ordinarily, she would have agreed, but not
after that conversation with Nathan Kent. She couldn’t determine
where she’d gone wrong. She’d done everything she’d been trained to
do, and failed.
    It wasn’t as if she was new to the game.
She’d been twelve when her figure started to appear. At the time,
she’d felt ungainly, and certainly many of the other students at
the Barnsley School had been scathing in their responses,
commenting on how many sweets she must have eaten, why her gowns no
longer fit properly.
    Aunt Sylvia had taken her aside during
Christmas holiday. “You’ve been granted a gift, Priscilla,” she’d
said. “And I, for one, intend to see that you do not waste it.”
    From then on, every holiday she’d spent with
her aunt. Her parents didn’t mind; anything they could do to
further a relationship with the wealthy lady was to the good in
their