Free Lady Thief by Kay Hooper Page B

London society?
    Thoughts of the Cat, however, were far from her mind on the night that she first visited Almacks. She was slightly disappointed at the bareness of the rooms, and the refreshments were rather meager, but fashionable society had turned out in full force, and Jenny was cheered to see the ladies and gentlemen decked out in silks, satins, and jewels of every kind.
    She had little opportunity to study the crowd, however, as she was swept off first by one young man, and then another.
    Lord Rivenhall was the first; his bloodshot eyes gleamed down at her with a mixture of avarice and desire. To Jenny’s discerning eye, the young lord revealed all the traits of the experienced gambler and one, moreover, whose pockets were seriously to let. He was obviously after her fortune. With that fact painfully apparent, she was still able to laugh and flirt lightly with him; she was in no danger of losing her heart.
    After Rivenhall, Jenny stopped trying to remember the name of every gentleman who swept her across the floor. She could see that Meg, dancing on the other side of the room, was enjoying herself; that was all that mattered.
    Two hours later, Jenny whirled in the arms of yet another town buck and felt certain that her face would crack if she smiled at one more inane remark. It wasn’t that she was not enjoying herself—quite the contrary, in fact. Observing the antics of polite society was causing her to enjoy herself immensely.
    The simpering ladies and gallant gentlemen appeared to be the very souls of propriety, but Jenny had noticed several incidents that did not quite fit the general air of respectability.
    Lady Darlington, for instance, slipping discreetly from the rooms, to be followed a few moments later by Lord Templeton. Lord Darlington did not appear to notice. Neither did Lady Templeton.
    Then there was the infamous Viscount Salcombe, who had to be escorted (discreetly, of course) from the rooms after having pugnaciously challenged at least three other gentlemen to duels. (They refused. No one in his right mind would accept a challenge from Salcombe, who was accounted the best shot in England and hot-tempered into the bargain.)
    No—society in itself was quite fascinating. If only the young gentlemen of London had something to speak of aside from empty compliments and useless platitudes. Jenny smiled up at her partner in response to another compliment (something about how her eyes were like yellow diamonds), and decided that she would like nothing better than to hold a quiet conversation with a sensible man.
    The dance finally ended, and Jenny managed to stifle what would have been an audible sigh of relief. As soon as her partner led her off the floor, she was immediately surrounded by a group of eager and amorous young men.
    Jenny pasted a smile on her face and listened rather wearily as the young men bantered back and forth between themselves about who was to have the next dance with her. As she attempted to stifle another sigh, her eyes met those of a gentleman standing some feet away.
    The gentleman’s cool gray eyes were amused, and Jenny realized that he had read her thoughts with uncanny accuracy. Her rather strained smile became completely natural, and her golden eyes gleamed with amusement. Immediately, the gentleman began to make his way toward her.
    The group around Jenny fell strangely silent when the gentleman approached, and she wondered why. He was neatly dressed, and there was an air of dignity about him, but he did not look very important. He looked like a gentleman—nothing more. Or so she thought.
    The gentleman stopped before her. In a quiet, cultured voice, he said, “Miss Courtenay, if you will allow me to present myself?”
    Intrigued, Jenny nodded.
    “George Brummell, ma’am, at your service.”
    Jenny extended her hand, lifting an eyebrow as she did so. “Beau Brummell?” There was a thread of amusement in her voice.
    He bowed low over her hand, a responsive twinkle in