Only a Kiss by Mary Balogh

body to perfection—as well as complementing his own waistcoat, Percy had noticed at dinner. Wenzel did not applaud any of the entertainers. The man must not have visited a tailor for the past five years, and he was more than half bald—for which uncharacteristically uncharitable thoughts Percy did not pause to berate himself.
    Lady Barclay herself
did
listen to, or at least keep her eyes upon, the performers. And she applauded. Only twice did Percy see her make a brief answering remark to Wenzel, and only one of those times did she turn her head to look at him.
    The man irritated Percy. The
really
annoying thing, though, was that he was noticing such things. Wenzel was trying to fix his interest with Lady Barclay, as he had every right to do. He was a single gentleman of roughly her own age, and she was a widow. Good luck to him if he aspired to marry her. He would need luck, though. She was giving him no encouragement. Nor, it was true, was she giving any sign that she felt harassed by his attentions. She was being her usual marble self. Percy had no excuse whatsoever for wanting to express his displeasure.
    But why should he feel irritated? Had he become all proprietary just because the woman lived beneath his roof? The very idea threatened to bring him out in a cold sweat.
    Mrs. Payne, the admiral’s wife, had a soprano voice with a pronounced vibrato and more than lived up to her name during the Handel aria she had chosen. Percy dutifully clapped when she was finished and agreed with Mrs. Kramer in a slightly raised voice because the latter was deaf that yes, indeed, it had been a fortunate day for the neighborhood when Admiral Payne decided to settle among them upon his retirement.
    The grand finale of the entertainment portion of the evening was a Bach piece with some clever finger work performed by Miss Gertrude Kramer, the younger sister. It was clearly the signal to the servants to bring in the refreshments, which were set out along a large sideboard at one side of the room, while tea and coffee trays were placed on a table for the elder Miss Kramer to pour. There was no sign of anything alcoholic making its appearance.
    Wenzel leaned closer to Lady Barclay before getting to his feet and making his way over to the sideboard. Percy stood unhurriedly, congratulated two or three of the evening’s performers who were within his orbit, including a stammering, blushing Alden Alton, strolled across the room away from the sideboard, and took the empty seat beside his third cousin-in-law once removed.
    She looked up at him in some surprise and what he would have interpreted as relief if it had not been highly unlikely.
    “I hope,” he said, “you enjoyed the musical entertainment, ma’am?”
    “I did,” she said. “Everyone means well and tries very hard.”
    Which was damning the artistes with faint praise, he thought appreciatively. “Quite so,” he agreed. “And did you also enjoy the conversation?”
    She raised her eyebrows. “I would have preferred to concentrate all my attention upon the music.”
    “Why did you not instruct him to stuff it, then?” he asked her.
    “Perhaps, Lord Hardford,” she said, “because I try at all times to observe good manners.”
    “Perhaps you were enjoying the gentleman’s attentions,” he said, “even if you would have preferred to listen to the music first. Shall I give him back his chair when he returns with a plate for you? I take it that is what he has gone to fetch.”
    “I believe it is not your concern whose attentions I enjoy or do not enjoy,” she told him. “But, no. Please stay where you are.”
    At almost the same moment Wenzel was back, a loaded plate in each hand. He looked pointedly at Percy, his eyebrows raised.
    “Ah,” Percy said, “how very good of you, Wenzel.” And he took one of the plates and handed it to Lady Barclay with a smile before taking the other for himself.
    Wenzel was left with empty hands and an unfathomable expression on