One More Kiss - By Mary Blayney Page 0,1

hells for the rest of the Season.

He would send Sadie wherever she wanted to go, take himself off to see his brother David, and convince him to go to Sandleton House for some fishing. It would be easy enough for their brother, the duke, to find him there and consign him to some level of Dante’s hell for this biggest of missteps.

And maybe, just maybe, a few days of fishing and the quiet of Sandleton would give him a chance to think of a way to win the land back from Crenshaw.

Chapter One

Havenhall Manor

Kent

August 1820

“DO COME TO the window, Beatrice,” Cecilia Brent urged her sister without turning around. “Tell me if you know who this is. It must be someone important. He’s riding the most impressive horse and has a red scarf around his neck.”

Beatrice could feel Cecilia’s anxiety as clearly as she could see it in her eyes. They might not look alike but the closeness they shared as twins made it easy for Beatrice to know what her sister was thinking. Do I look as good as possible? Is my dress the right style, the right color? Will people like me?

How was it that even when she wasn’t smiling Cecilia still managed to be more beautiful than any woman for ten miles? And what in the world could she do, Beatrice wondered, to convince her anxious twin that this house party could be fun?

“I do believe the countess gave us the best suite in the house. We can watch everyone arrive.”

“I wish Papa had given us the guest list instead of insisting we memorize it,” Cecilia said as she clasped her hands together.

The sitting room’s cream and gold colors with pale green accents were lovely and very calming, but they did not seem to be doing anything to allay her sister’s nerves.

“Papa meddles entirely too much. Even Roger agrees with me on that, Ceci.” Beatrice put her arm around her sister’s waist as they both watched the people below perform the practiced choreography of greeting and being welcomed.

“He is your best friend. Of course Roger agrees with you.”

“That’s true, but he also works with Papa so he agrees with me at his own peril. Roger says that Papa approaches everything as though it were a business merger.”

“Some marriages are.”

“Yes, but we are here for a party,” Beatrice emphasized the word, “and not for a husband.”

Cecilia gave her halfhearted nod, the one she used when she wanted to avoid an argument.

Beatrice abandoned the subject. There would be time enough for it later. She concentrated on the man below.

“I do believe that’s the heir to the Bendas dukedom. He is on the list as Viscount William Bendasbrook, but I think he has a new title now. His grandfather died last year. Do you recall the gossip? His grandfather was that crazy duke who was always at odds with the Duke of Meryon.”

“And then Meryon married his daughter. Yes, I recall. It was like a fairy tale.” Cecilia was silent for a moment. “Just think, Bitsy, a man who will be a duke is at our house party!”

“Ceci, Papa could easily buy a dukedom if they were for sale.” Beatrice bit her lip again to keep back her next thought. As heiresses we are at least as valuable a commodity as any titled heir. If she spoke aloud it would only add credence to Ceci’s idea about marriages as mergers. “This will be fun,” Beatrice insisted. “It’s the beginning of our lives among the ton.”

“Hmmm.”

Which was another thing Ceci said when she did not agree. No big loud arguments for Cecilia Brent, Beatrice thought. It was odd because Beatrice herself quite liked a rousing argument now and again.

Beatrice waited until Ceci looked at her. “But it will only be fun,” she added, “if you stop fretting.”

Her sister nodded and sighed. “I will try.”

“Consider it this way. The next two weeks will be our entrée into a world where every sort of adult intrigue is commonplace. Watching it will be fascinating. And we are the ones to decide if we want to be a part of it.”

“You think we are the ones who choose? Not at all. This is a test,” Cecilia said flatly. “To see if we fit in.”

“Stop, Ceci.” Beatrice tried to hide her exasperation. “Of course we fit in.” Or at least you do. “We’ve had an education equal to theirs, clothes from London, a sponsor who is a countess. What more do we need?”

“Better birth? A father who