Free Shirley Kerr by Confessions of a Viscount Page A

informing her that they seemed to have given their two followers the slip.
    After what seemed like hours, she reined Maxwell in at the front of the town house. Alistair jumped down and jogged to the other side of the carriage, beating the footman so he could be the one to assist Miss Parnell in descending to the street.
    Lifting her at the waist instead of just offering her a hand down was not forward behavior for an engaged couple, even if he did let his hold linger and slide acrossa tad more of her velvet-covered curves than absolutely necessary.
    His friends thought him oblivious to his effect on the fairer sex, when in truth he was merely circumspect—he had no wish to raise unwarranted hope in any maiden’s thoughts by responding to her flirtatious overtures. With Miss Parnell, however, there was no risk of her reading unintended meaning into his actions, since they were engaged in subterfuge together.
    And to be successful in their deception, they had to act the part of a betrothed couple. She demonstrated her unspoken understanding of this by the way she rested her hands on his shoulders, letting her fingers slide through the hair at his nape.
    By the gleam in her eye as he set her on her feet, and the way she patted the phaeton, he realized he’d made a grave mistake that afternoon. She would now expect to be allowed to drive his carriage again.
    He almost groaned.
    She said something, too softly for him to hear, so he bent down and turned his head, the better to hear her over the noise of the traffic.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek.
    Stunned, he didn’t immediately pull back. He wished he’d taken the time to shave again before their outing, worried her tender lips might have been scraped by his stubble. Her soft, delectable lips, currently curved in a sensual smile.
    The footman cleared his throat.
    They sprang apart. Alistair straightened to his fullheight and offered his arm to escort Miss Parnell up the steps. He waited until they were exactly halfway to the door, out of earshot of the footman, groom, and the butler holding it open, before speaking.
    “I’ve been invited to the Eccleston’s rout this evening.”
    Miss Parnell raised her brows in polite query.
    “Their town house is one square over from the hotel where Madame Melisande is staying. The view from their roof offers an excellent line of sight to her balcony.”
    “And you know this because…? I thought astronomers gazed up at the night sky. Now it turns out you’re a Peeping Tom?” The late afternoon sunlight hit her teasing eyes at just the right angle, making them bright and clear. Bottomless pools of blue, deep enough to drown in.
    Alistair gave himself a mental shake. “Knowing what view is afforded by the host’s roof is how I decide which invitations to accept.”
    “Wouldn’t it be simpler to just stay home?”
    He shook his head. “And deal with the displeasure of both my father and grandfather? That way lies madness.”
    Miss Parnell patted his arm with her free hand. “But how does the view from the Eccleston’s roof help us, if you have to attend the rout?”
    “Lord Eccleston is a member of The Royal Society. He’ll not only give me permission to take my telescope up to his roof, he’ll expect me to do so.”
    “So you make a grand public appearance, appease your relatives, then escape up to the rooftop?”
    “I don’t know about ‘grand,’ but yes, that’s the general idea.”
    Miss Parnell gave a slight shake of her head. “SirNigel may not be involved after all, but I still think Madame Melisande is very much in the thick of things. Rather than spying on her, I think it would be more productive if I searched her room again. She doesn’t carry the item in her reticule.”
    Alistair felt his hair practically stand on end at the thought of Miss Parnell dangling from the roof. But he already knew her well enough to know that forbidding her to do so would be a waste of breath.