Shirley Kerr by Confessions of a Viscount Read Free Book Online Page A

while you two dance.” Her eyes twinkled as she beamed at him and her niece.
    Minutes later Alistair and Miss Parnell took their place in the dance lines forming. He was fully aware that the movements of the dance would afford her the chance to look over everyone in the ballroom without being obvious. It would also allow him to converse with Miss Parnell, and watch where her attention was drawn.
    He saw Madame Melisande cross the room at the same moment Miss Parnell saw her. The widow soon entered into a heated conversation with a gray-haired gentleman, who thankfully was not Alistair’s father.
    “Neither of them look very happy, do they?” Alistair noted as they waited out their turn at the end of the dance line a few minutes later.
    “He seems to be trying to placate her,” Miss Parnell murmured.
    “I wonder who he is,” they both said at the same time. They shared a quick smile, then stepped into position inthe dance, exchanging places with another couple, and began working their way back up the line.
    The first time Alistair had slipped from a roof while attempting to get a closer look at the stars, his governess had insisted dancing be added to his studies once his ankle healed, in addition to the usual courses of Greek and Latin and estate stewardship. He had resisted and complained, to no avail. The agility and balance he’d gained from the extra practice had served him well over the years. It had even spared him much of the awkwardness that usually accompanied adolescent growth spurts.
    He was doubly grateful now for those many hours of dance practice, because he found himself distracted by Miss Parnell’s smile, or the graceful way she moved, rather than concentrating on his own steps in the dance. He moved by rote, so no one was aware of his preoccupation.
    “My aunt undoubtedly knows who he is,” Miss Parnell said when the figures brought them together again. They briefly held hands as they ducked under the arch made by the other couple in their square.
    “Excellent.” They spun away from each other and circled back.
    Soon the music ended and he escorted Miss Parnell to her aunt.
    “Which gray-haired gentleman?” Aunt Hermione replied, after Miss Parnell had taken a seat and made her inquiry. “There are so many of them.” Aunt and niece shared a chuckle.
    Miss Parnell described the gentleman in question, without resorting to pointing.
    “Sir Nigel Broadmoor is a loose fish, someone with whom you should have no contact,” Aunt Hermione pronounced with unexpected vitriol.
    “Has he done you harm?” Alistair leaned forward to see her reply.
    Aunt Hermione pursed her lips as though tasting an unripe lemon. “Last Season, he set his sights on my Marianne. Did everything he could to try to compromise her, poor girl, short of putting his hand up her skirt. Had she a larger fortune, I doubt we could have successfully fended him off.”
    “What would a fortune hunter possibly want with Madame Melisande?” Miss Parnell murmured.
    “Fortune hunter, card sharp, all-around loose fish,” Aunt Hermione said. “You steer clear of him, miss, do you hear me?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Miss Parnell demurely folded her hands in her lap. She turned to Alistair, pitching her voice low enough that only he could hear her. “He doesn’t seem Melisande’s usual type of paramour.”
    “And you know her usual type?”
    She nodded, almost absently. “Men like you, or your father. Wealthy. In a position of power. Preferably both.” She propped her chin in her hand, tapping her bottom lip with one finger. “Sir Nigel is neither.”
    Alistair stared at her finger, wondering what it would feel like to trace her lip with his own finger. “Perhaps they are simply drawn toward each other. We cannot always control who we find ourselves attracted to.”
    “No, I don’t think—” She cut herself off and turned toAlistair, biting her bottom lip, as though reading the unspoken sentiment behind his words.
    He waited,