“A fellow with staying power, eh? Mr. Murray sounds like someone I’d like to get to know better.” Mrs. Sumner’s blackened lashes lowered in a roguish wink.
Why was his brother such a damned magnet for trouble? Gritting his teeth, Richard prepared to reply, but Miss Kent beat him to it.
“Mr. Murray is very busy these days,” she said primly. “He has to think of his future.”
Mrs. Sumner’s plucked brows shot up. “You speak for him, Miss Kent?”
“As a friend, I do.”
Her steady reply ignited a sudden, unpalatable sensation in Richard. It took him a moment to recognize the feeling as… jealousy. Of his own brother? The possibility flummoxed him. All his life, he’d looked after Wick—would give the other the shirt off his own back if necessary. Yet Miss Kent’s loyalty and concern made his chest constrict with a contemptible emotion.
Longing.For something that would never be his.
Blocking out the unacceptable thoughts, he turned to Mrs. Sumner. “As Mr. Murray’s brother, I can assure you that his plate is presently full. He has no time for diversions.”
“Pity.” The widow’s gaze roved over him. Then she leaned forward, giving him an unobstructed view of her twin assets. “Tell me, my lord,” she cooed, “does stamina run in the family?”
His neck heated. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? This was one of the many reasons he loathed flirtation. He’d never had a talent for navigating the labyrinth of hidden meanings and innuendo. He preferred honesty and straight dealing. When Lucinda Belton had laughingly declared, “I’ve never met a man as direct as you, Carlisle—why, you’re as blunt as a mallet,” she hadn’t been wrong.
As he struggled to come up with an acceptable reply, Miss Kent spoke up.
“It seems you’ve fallen into your dish, Mrs. Sumner,” she said with studied candor.
He saw that the widow’s bodice was indeed soaking up the sauce from her plate. Straightening, Mrs. Sumner reached for her napkin and rubbed at the greasy spot on her bosom—slowly, her fingertip tracing a suggestive circle. She winked at him.
By Jove.Appalled, he looked away.
The widow said casually, “How kind of you to notice, Miss Kent.”
“Rather difficult not to,” Miss Kent said.
Her disgruntled tone lifted Richard’s spirits.
Abruptly, she turned her attention to the acrobat seated on the other side of Goggston. “Monique, I’d love to hear more about the secrets behind your performances. And yours as well, Mr. Burns,” she added.
Next to Parnell, Cedric Burns flashed white teeth that sparkled against his tanned complexion. “I haven’t any secrets, m’dear. What you see on the stage is purely the result of practice and skill.”
Monique reached for her goblet of wine, smirking. Richard thought that her beauty was like beveled glass: it had a hard, polished edge. Unlike Miss Kent, whose fresh prettiness owed nothing to artifice, the acrobat honed her charms with rouge and paint.
“Pure fustian, Monsieur Burns. The Great Nicoletti claims the same thing,” she said, “yet he cuts his assistant in half with a saw and then puts her back together again. Tell me, what sort ofpracticemakes such a feat possible?” Her smile was derisive. “Every great performer has secrets.”
“If you don’t care to share the tricks of your trade, Burns, just say so,” Parnell drawled.
“Hard work is the trick,” Burns protested. “My partner and I practice for hours each day.”
“Where is the lovely Miss Ashe, wot?” Wormleigh said from halfway down the table. As usual, the aging dandy appeared foxed, his jowls ruddy above the elaborate folds of his cravat.
“She developed a megrim. Sends her regrets,” Burns said.
“Too bad. Never met a gel who could handle fire.” Wormleigh leered. “Would like to know her secrets, wot.”
“A woman must guard her secrets as closely as her jewels.” Monique raised her glass to her rouged lips. “They are her most valuable commodity.”
“What if she doesn’t have any secrets?” Miss Billings piped up.
“Then she has no choice but to rely on her jewels.” Smirking, Parnell said, “Stunning necklace, by the by.”
Miss Billings beamed. “You’re ever so kind, my lord. It’s a French heirloom.”
