Free One More Kiss by Mary Blayney Page B

you did,” she said, feeling her smile die. “And was that a test to see exactly how gullible I am?”
    Cecilia was proud of the fact that she had a mild temperament, but at the moment she had to fight the urge to pour her soup in the man’s lap.
    “Miss Brent, just between us, if you please.” Lord Destry leaned closer and lowered his voice as he spoke.
    Cecilia nodded, though she was not sure she wanted to share a confidence with the man.
    He looked away, clearing his throat before he spoke. “I put salt in my wine so that I am not tempted todrink too much. I love the juice of the grape, but have learned that I have a lower tolerance than most.”
    “I see.” Horrified that she had mimicked him, she wanted to shrivel into a little ball of mortification and die.
    “Please believe me,” he said, “those who make up the ton are no more than men and women born in lucky circumstances with just enough wit to pretend that they are better than the rest of the citizenry.”
    “I suppose,” Cecilia said with a slight nod.
    “If there is one thing I know, Miss Brent, it is that anyone taken in by the way they act, no matter if it is salting their wine or something more egregious, like shunning someone, that person is as much a fool as they are.”
    Cecilia was struck silent by the snub and looked away lest he see the tears filling her eyes.

Chapter Eight

 
    W ILLIAM, YOU IDIOT , he shouted to himself. He tried to find a way to apologize for his affront, a completely unintended one. His words were aimed at men like Crenshaw and women like Mrs. Wilson. Sweet, too-cautious Miss Cecilia Brent was only trying to fit into this new circle. Besides, her looks guaranteed that she could eat her peas with a knife dipped in gravy and still be welcomed anywhere.
    “I did not mean to insult you, Miss Brent,” he said anxiously. Her eyes were fixed on Crenshaw even though the man was fully engaged in conversation with Miss Wilson, but he knew she could not turn her ears off and must hear him. “I am well aware that you are a newcomer and hope to find a place in the ton this Season. I only wanted to help.”
    She glanced back at him. “Thank you, my lord.” She spoke stiffly, as if good manners were an innate part of her, but her eyes shimmered with tears.
    He spoke quickly, so that he would be talking to her face and not the back of her head, though even that managed to be as beautiful as the rest of her.
    “The fact is that you have complete control of this gathering.”
    When she gave him that not-quite-convinced half nod she had used before, he went on. “Yes, even though you are the least experienced in the ways of the ton.”
    He read skepticism mixed with a good bit of hurt still lingering in her eyes. He hurried on.
    “Observe, if you please. When you turn from me, Lord Crenshaw must perforce abandon Miss Wilson to speak with you. Belmont will turn from whatever puzzle your sister has presented him with to speak with the much more ingenuous Miss Wilson, so she is not left alone with her soup.
    “Of course, Lord Jess will have to entertain your sister with the more genteel of his gaming tales, and Mrs. Kendrick, who has been laughing at the more risqué of them, will don her lady’s airs and talk to your father. The countess will sigh in disappointment at the interruption and speak with me. There, you see? It is all in your control. Shall we test it?”
    With a slight, cold smile of agreement, she turned from him. He was worse than an idiot. His title was the only thing that kept him in such good company. William pushed aside all hope of something as ludicrous as a shared love with Miss Brent.
What a fantasy, you undersized moron
.
    William turned to the countess, who patted Mr. Brent’s hand as she turned away. Destry noted the personal touch and wondered, but kept his polite gazefocused on the countess as he asked, “Who will be arriving later in the week, my lady?”
    “I T WAS EXACTLY as he said, Bitsy. When I