One More Kiss by Mary Blayney

something. Perhaps a game that had gone wrong. Or a quarrel over a woman. Or even something as simple as a horse one had purchased even after the other had made his interest known.
    She would dearly love to know the details.
    A S HE STEPPED away, Jess heard Miss Wilson say, “How ever did you train your dog, Mrs. Kendrick? Our dogs can do no more than fetch sticks.”
    He moved toward the window, withdrawing from the conversation. From his new vantage point Jess watched as Mrs. Kendrick allowed Belmont to takeher dog and cuddle him in his arms. Now there was an interesting duo: a wealthy widow and an impoverished earl. An association that would be best served by marriage for the earl, and yet Mrs. Kendrick was decidedly independent. How entertaining. He wondered if Destry would care to wager on who would win.
    Miss Brent, or the little Venus, as he still thought of her, was now in earnest conversation with Destry with the same intensity she had shown with Crenshaw. It could just be her way. He wondered how that intensity would show itself in the bedroom. He smiled at the thought and banished it as quickly. He was not shopping in the marriage mart. Not this week or this year. Maybe never. And Miss Brent was not suited to anything less than lifelong commitment.
    He forced himself to avert his eyes, and immediately caught sight of Miss Cecilia Brent. Beatrice’s sister was a beauty and would have no trouble garnering all the attention she could crave, even if she was alone at the moment, staring out the window. He took a step in her direction as he eyed the last couple.
    The countess and Mr. Brent stood together talking to a young man who had just come in, not one of their party. The countess and Brent were a pairing he never would have guessed, but the way they stood so close, their clothes touching, if not their bodies, told him that they were deep into an affair and still delighted with it.
    Jess recalled the countess’s husband, who had been more interested in directing the farming of his land than in London or Parliament. As a husband he had regarded his wife with an offhand affection. They had lived apart for months at a time, the countess spendingthe entire season in London while the earl was on his estate. The arrangement had seemed to suit them both.
    Mr. Brent could not be more different. He was intense and dogged in his pursuit of whatever he wanted; at least, that was what Jess’s brother David had told him. Thinking back to how Brent had escorted his daughters into dinner, Jess decided he was either as controlling as Crenshaw or very protective of those he loved. Perhaps both.
    Venus finally saw the man who was talking with the countess and her father. With a word to Destry they both joined that group. She greeted the young man with such enthusiasm that Jess realized they were friends of long standing. Perhaps more than friends.
    It didn’t matter to him. He was a confirmed bachelor, Jess reminded himself, for the second time in as many minutes. He looked about at his fellow guests, several of whom were also watching the tableau by the door. Relieved he was not the only one fascinated by Beatrice, Jess moved across the room to Miss Cecilia, who would surely know the newcomer’s identity.

Chapter Ten

 
    C ECILIA DID NOT give him a chance to ask about the new member of their group, but launched immediately into conversation without her usual blush of embarrassment. “There is the loveliest night-blooming jasmine on the patio.”
    “Flowers are not my forte, Miss Brent. Exactly what is lovely about it? Are not all flowers lovely?”
    “Yes, but what I thought was—” She paused and then started again. “What I meant was that it is unusually thriving and lush.” She turned and looked at him for the first time. “It has found the perfect spot to bloom. Do you know the scent of the jasmine?”
    “Only from perfumes.”
    “Let’s go outside and you can experience it. I would love a closer look.”
    With