Beyond A Wicked Kiss Read Free

that the duke's actions were no less attentive. He actually picked up the child, gave her a little toss and shake which made her squeal with delight, and then permitted her to pummel him for another turn of the same. His Grace obliged without hesitation.
    No one in the village had ever mentioned the Duke of Westphal giving so much as a tinker's damn for children. Evan would not have believed an account of His Grace's actions if he had not been witness to them. He hardly knew how to think about what he had seen, let alone how to feel.
    It was easier to push his own uncertain responses to the back of his mind and concentrate on his wider view of the party. Tenley had been able to insist that some of the adults join his spirited game of hide-and-seek, and it wasn't long before the participants were sprinting toward the available hiding places. The woods were a natural destination, but no one chose his chestnut to hide in and no one climbed so high in any of the nearby trees. The game came to an end in less than an hour, and Tenley marshaled his troops to play tag, blindman's buff, and finally, capture the flag. They cooled themselves off by stripping down to their drawers and shifts—even the participating adults—and leaping into the lake. The splashing and dunking and laughing finally was enough to force a large family of ducks to flee the water for the relative safety of the verdant hillside.
    When the energetic play wound down, there was a retreat to the blankets. Baskets were thrown open and they shared the bounty. There were platters of roast beef and lamb and chicken, great round loaves of fresh bread, and an abundance of fruit and cheese and wine. There was little movement following this repast. Someone suggested charades, but there was no enthusiasm for it. Even Tenley had stopped insisting that they do something and seemed glad to lie stretched on a quilted rug, belly-up in the sunshine. Some of the guests slept, others read, a few played quietly at cards.
    As a whole, they were at peace, Evan thought. From his vantage point it was rather more boring than comforting, but he supposed this was also part and parcel of being a spy. There was bound to be boredom, and he would have to learn to manage it. To that end he mentally reviewed all the Greek gods and goddesses and their Roman counterparts, then the royal lineages of the houses of Europe since Charlemagne. When he returned to Hambrick Hall in a few days' time, he would wager South and the others that he could recite the latter in just under one minute. It was sure to impress, and possibly earn him a few farthings.
    He was contemplating how he might spend his winnings when a stirring among the duchess's guests caught his attention. To be strictly accurate, it was the stirring of a single guest. Young Ria was up and moving. Evan did not know why no one else seemed to notice. It was true there were more people napping than had been some ten minutes earlier, but there were still those who were engaged in cards and quiet conversation. None of them shifted their attention to call to the girl, and Evan had to believe they had not seen her. Her mother and father—at least, Evan believed he had identified the proper pair—were lying like spoons in a drawer, dappled by the late afternoon sunshine. The mother's upper arm was set in a curve that had been shaped by her daughter's presence. It remained just so. If Ria took it into her head to return to the blanket and wriggled herself back into place she might never be missed.
    Evan did not think that was going to happen. It looked to him as if Ria was chasing something—a butterfly, perhaps, or bit of duck fluff released to the air when the fowl had hastened to the hillside. Whatever it was, Evan realized the invisible currents of air were lifting it away from where the guests lolled on their blankets and gradually leading the child to the lake. It was no direct avenue she took. The path she made through the grass went to and