Shirley Kerr by Confessions of a Viscount Read Free Book Online

in greater detail. “So. What do we do now?”
    “We?” She gave a delicate shake of her head. “You are going to escort me to various functions, squire me about on your arm. The ladies will wish me ill, and sigh over you, but from afar. I will occasionally slip away to look for”—she pursed her lips in thought—“what I’m looking for, and then come back to your arm, with no one the wiser.”
    Alistair folded his arms. “So essentially you want me to be your escort and your alibi.”
    “And in return, I shall protect you from the marriage-minded masses.”
    He smiled at the image of the short, curvy blonde beside him fighting off hordes of women—her dress swirling about her shapely ankles, ringlets swaying, bosom heaving with exertion.
    Having the pretty Miss Parnell on his arm would be no hardship. Their proximity would allow him the opportunity to wear down her defenses, find out what she was really up to. “What outing or event is to be on our social calendar next?”

Chapter 4
    A nother ball that night, as it turned out, held at the home of Lord and Lady Addington, one street over from the Argyle Rooms, and the hotel where Alistair had learned Madame Melisande was staying. He’d noticed the French widow, whose charms could be rented if not actually purchased, had become a common element in Miss Parnell’s activities.
    Madame Melisande had arrived at the Venetian breakfast shortly after Alistair’s chat with Miss Parnell under the elm tree, and his fiancée had quickly excused herself to the ladies’ retiring room again. She’d come back looking less than satisfied, moments after Melisande had reappeared.
    “Unless you plan to depart from respectability,” he whispered in Miss Parnell’s ear as they made their way through the receiving line that night, “I’d like to knowyour interest in the courtesan.” Aunt Hermione was just ahead of Miss Parnell, and Blakeney was only a step behind Alistair on the crowded staircase. The courtesan in question was five places ahead of them in the receiving line, and Miss Parnell was taking note of every person Melisande engaged in conversation.
    Miss Parnell studiously ignored him and moved forward to greet their hostess on the landing, dropping a curtsy and complimenting the marchioness’s sapphire blue gown. The two women discussed the gown and the modiste who designed it, and commiserated on the outrageous prices she charged for her work, but wasn’t it worth it in the end?
    Intrigued by Miss Parnell’s change in demeanor, Alistair paid closer attention. The empty-headed miss was back—the persona she’d used to fob him off during their first dance together.
    Their group stepped into the ballroom doorway, was announced, and entered the fray. From the corner of his eye Alistair noted several young women whispering behind their fans as the foursome passed by. More than one wistful look was tossed his way, and several full of venom were directed at Miss Parnell.
    Miss Parnell’s Aunt Hermione was oblivious to the undercurrents. “My, you are a tall one,” the older lady gushed upon finding herself standing beside Alistair.
    He smiled down at the diminutive lady. The top of her head barely reached above his elbow. Though she had never been classically beautiful, there was a handsome quality to her features, which lasted longer than simple beauty. Silver strands highlighted her once goldenhair, framing her still youthful face. He was struck by the family resemblance with her niece, and realized for the first time that most men would probably not consider Miss Parnell to be pretty in the traditional sense, either.
    “I trust I’m leaving you in good company,” Blakeney said to Aunt Hermione, with a pointed glance to Alistair. “I see someone I must say hello to.”
    “Off you go.” Aunt Hermione made shooing motions. She glanced up at Alistair. “If you wouldn’t mind fetching me a cup of punch, young man, I’ll be happy to sit among the chaperones