Page 26 of One Night with a Prince
Christabel forced a smile of her own. “Good. Then I’ll have the chance to determine for myself if they’re as tiresome and stupid as he claims.”
That wiped the smile right off Lady Jenner’s face. Turning abruptly, she headed down a dimly lit hall. As they followed, Byrne murmured, “I believe Eleanor has met her match.”
She cast Byrne a wary glance. “Is that why we’re here? To see if I can hold my own around your former mistresses?”
“Among other things. Think of this as a rather extreme example of what you might encounter at Stokely’s party. If you can stomach this, you can stomach anything. We’ll watch them play at whist and scandal.” He skimmed his hand up her spine. “And we’ll give the cardplayers the chance to watchus .”
“Watch us do what?”
He kissed her cheek, then whispered, “Pretend to be man and mistress, of course. So if I were you, I’d hold that quick tongue of yours. Watch, learn, and listen. And try not to look shocked. Your reactions are entirely too transparent.”
That was her only warning before they entered a most licentious scene.Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlThree players were ranged around a card table as Lady Jenner took her seat on a settee drawn up to it, making the fourth. There were four other guests in the moderately sized drawing room, and most of the eight were behaving indecently.
A blowsy brunette in a low-cut day gown was curled up on a chaise longue beside a pointy-nosed fellow with thinning hair, her hand rubbing his thigh as he examined his cards. An exceedingly handsome young gentleman in his shirtsleeves shared Lady Jenner’s settee, draping his right arm across the back so he could tangle his fingers in her unpinned hair. Then there was the gray-haired matron who divided her concentration between her cards and the fierce-looking fellow in an unbuttoned uniform jacket, who leaned over her shoulder to nibble her ear.
But most wicked of all was the slender, reddish blond female who actually sat upon a portly man’s lap, giggling as he sipped from a glass of brandy.
“Byrne!” exclaimed the portly man as he caught sight of them. “Fancy seeing you here.” He leered at Christabel. “And who isthis fair creature?”
As Christabel stiffened instinctively, Byrne squeezed her waist in warning. “This is Lady Haversham. A very good friend of mine.”
Apparently, that was code for “mistress,” because the women exchanged knowing glances, and the men joined the portly man in leering at her. Though bile rose in her throat, Christabel forced a smile for their benefit.
Then Byrne performed the introductions. Names flew at her so quickly she couldn’t take them in: Talbot, Markham, Bradley, Hungate, Talbot again…
Two Talbots? She must have misunderstood.
“There’s only one chair left,” the countess said matter-of-factly, gesturing to a heavy walnutbergère a short distance from the card table. “You can share it.”
“All right.” Byrne shoved the chair closer to the table. Then before Christabel could react, he took a seat and hauled her onto his lap.
She froze. She’d never sat across a man’s lap in her life, not even Philip’s. It was the most intimate thing she could imagine—save activities reserved for the bedchamber. In shock, she swung her gaze to Byrne, only to find him watching her with an impudent smile.
Deliberately, he stretched his arm out on the chair behind her rigid back and settled his other arm across her waist, his taunting gaze daring her to protest.
“I can call for one of the servants to carry a chair for you up from the dining room if you’re uncomfortable, Lady Haversham,” their hostess said slyly.
Christabel forced herself to relax, to lean back against his arm. “No need to go to that trouble,” she managed. “I’m fine here.”
“Fine, indeed,” Byrne murmured, giving a whole new meaning to the word.Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlHe splayed his fingers over her belly, sparking her temper. His head was close enough that the bracing scent of his shaving oil filled her nostrils, and his breath practically scorched her cheek. How dared he take advantage of the situation to hold her so scandalously? She glanced around the company, only to find that no one regarded her presence on Byrne’s lap as the least bit strange or alarming. Except perhaps Lady Jenner, who shot her a malevolent look. Or did she? Seconds later the countess was regarding her cards in apparent deep concentration. None of the other women even showed a hint of jealousy. And two of them had been his mistresses! But which ones? The red-haired woman? The brunette in the appallingly naughty gown? She didn’t want to know. That would mean she cared, and she didn’t. Not one whit. All she cared about was her mission, and if she must play a scandalous lady to gain the letters, she’d do it. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Do you play, Lady Haversham?” asked Mr. Talbot, the pointy-nosed gentleman.
“She’s going to be my partner at Stokely’s,” Byrne answered for her. Christabel shot him a questioning glance he ignored. Yesterday, he’d refused to let her partner him at the house party. What had changed his mind?
Lady Jenner looked just as surprised by the admission. “You’re not partnering our host as usual?”
“Not this year, no.”
The countess regarded Christabel with new antagonism. “For your sake, madam, I hope you’re better at whist than your late husband. Byrne detests losing.”
Mr. Talbot threw a card on the table. “Stokely has to invite her first anyway. And you know how he feels about bringing new people into our cozy group.”
“I don’t go unless she goes,” Byrne drawled. “And since she’ll be withme, he should know he can trust her.”
Mr. Talbot shrugged. “If you’re not partnering him, why should he bother?”
“Because Stokely can’t resist a challenge. He’ll invite her out of sheer curiosity to see who I threw him over for.”
