The Truth About Love by Stephanie Laurens Page A

his, she led him across the room.
    Leaning close, she murmured, “Millicent mentioned that you need to spend time with Jacqueline, in pursuit of the portrait, as it were, but tonight is hardly a time for work—I’ve asked Eleanor to make sure you enjoy yourself.”
    So saying, she delivered him to her daughter.
    Amenable enough, Gerrard smiled and claimed Eleanor’s hand, and wondered what opportunities the seating would afford.
    When they filed into the long dining room, he found himself in perfect accord with Lady Fritham’s organization. Entirely without intending to, indeed, for quite the opposite reason, she’d given him what for him was the perfect place—directly opposite Jacqueline.
    That meant he couldn’t converse with her, but at the moment, that wasn’t his aim. Observing her was, along with Lady Trewarren and Mrs. Myles, both mothers of young gentlemen of Jacqueline’s acquaintance.
    As it happened, Jacqueline had Roger Myles and Cedric Trewarren flanking her; all three were of much the same age, which, Gerrard judged, made Roger and Cedric too young for Jacqueline. From what he saw of their interactions as, with Mary Hancock, they took their seats, they’d known each other for years; they treated each other as friends, nothing more.
    Having seated Eleanor, he drew out the chair beside her and sat. Cecily Hancock was on his left. From the gleam in both young ladies’ eyes, they were eager to entertain him.
    Charm to the fore, he asked about the local attractions.
    Throughout the meal it proved easy enough to deal with Eleanor and Cecily, both of whom openly vied for his attention, while simultaneously watching Lady Trewarren and Mrs. Myles. Both ladies were seated at one end of the table, opposite each other; he had to face Cecily to see Lady Trewarren, but, thanks to Cecily’s increasingly blatant attempts to monopolize him, that was easy to disguise.
    As the courses came and went, he watched and analyzed. Lady Trewarren, while noting her younger son chatting animatedly to Jacqueline, seemed less concerned than when Giles had sought Jacqueline’s attention; presumably her ladyship recognized the nature of Cedric’s and Jacqueline’s friendship. With Mrs. Myles, however…the desserts were on the table before Gerrard glimpsed, just fleetingly, a touch of the same motherhen concern he’d seen in Lady Trewarren.
    Mrs. Myles was much more guarded in her expressions, yet Roger was her only son; when, along with Jacqueline and Cedric, Roger laughed at some joke, she leaned forward and looked down the table—not censorious but worried, concerned…She saw, then sat back. Absentmindedly she patted her lips with her napkin, her brow faintly creased, her gaze far away, then Lord Fritham spoke to her and she looked his way.
    Gerrard let his gaze return to Cecily.
    Just in time to see her shoot a smug, spite-filled glance, first at Eleanor, then across the table at Jacqueline, who glanced up just in time to catch it.
    Then Cecily looked at him, positively oozing what she no doubt imagined was sultry seductiveness. He’d obviously missed something he ought to have nipped in the bud.
    “I’m sure I don’t know,” Cecily purred, leaning closer, “why it’s so important that you paint Jacqueline—why, everyone knows brown hair is entirely out of fashion. But now you’re in the area, I daresay you’ll be on the lookout for other suitable ladies to paint, to make your stay down here worthwhile.” Touching fingertips to her primped blond curls, she smiled and all but batted her lashes at him. “I would be very happy to sit for you.”
    Gerrard decided against telling her she was precisely the sort of young lady he daily prayed he’d never have to paint. Informing her that if he painted her, all her spite and nastiness—from what he’d taken in of her comments she was well endowed with both—would show, also seemed unwise; she’d probably shriek, faint or accuse him of something.
    Yet thanks to her