A Precious Jewel by Mary Balogh Page A

him to his lips. “How are you?”
    Her smile grew in warmth.
    “I have brought the Earl of Severn to meet you,” he said. “This is Prissy, Miles.”
    She curtsied to his friend and blushed. All women blushed when they laid eyes on Miles. It was his height that did it, damn him, and the breadth of his shoulders, and his blue, blue eyes and thick dark hair.
    “Prissy,” the earl said, crossing the room toward her, his hand outstretched for hers. “I have heard such glowing reports of you from Gerald that I had to meet you for myself.”
    His blue eyes were twinkling at her, Sir Gerald saw with an annoyed glance. The earl bowed over her hand and kissed it.
    “Thank you for receiving me,” he said. “I gather that you gave your consent to Gerald last night.”
    “Won’t you take a seat, my lord?” she said. “I shall ring for tea. Gerald, please sit down.”
    Tea and cakes were brought in, and she proceeded to entertain them both for the next half hour, doing very little talking herself, but asking skilled questions that kept them—particularly Lord Severn—talking.
    Both men found themselves remembering stories from university days and laughing over them. His mistress’s eyes were dancing, Sir Gerald saw. He glanced at his friend. She was looking altogether too pretty.
    He had never held a conversation with her or in her presence. He would have thought her incapable of sustaining one. A man expected his mistress to have only one set of skills and one body of knowledge.
    His Priss had obviously been very well trained indeed by Kit. Her accent and her manners did not slip even once.
    He raised her hand to his lips again when he and his friend rose to take their leave. “Thank you, Priss,” he said. “I shall see you tomorrow evening?”
    She smiled at him.
    The earl cleared his throat. “I can see myself on my way, Ger,” he said. “I don’t expect you to leave with me.” He bowed. “Thank you for entertaining me, ma’am. This has been a pleasant half hour, and Ibelieve I can see why Gerald is so taken with you.” He grinned and winked at her.
    “Devil take it, Miles,” Sir Gerald said when they were outside the house and on their way to Grosvenor Square, “can’t you allow a man to decide for himself when he wants to mount his mistress? I was with her all last night.”
    And had her three separate times before finally setting his feet in the direction of home at some time after dawn, he thought.
    “She is remarkably pretty and amiable,” the earl said. “I don’t wonder that she was Kit’s favorite, Ger. Who is she? No common milkmaid or street urchin, at a guess. A gentlewoman down on her luck?”
    “How the devil should I know who she is?” Sir Gerald said. “It’s nothing to me, Miles. She is my mistress. She has one function in my life. I have no intention of complicating matters by trying to find out who she is—or was.”
    “And yet,” the earl said, “I would guess that she would be well worth getting to know, Ger.”
    Sir Gerald stopped walking abruptly. “If you are planning to get any ideas, Miles,” he said, “you had better tell me right now and I’ll take a jab at your nose before I can remember that you could probably grind me to powder without even exerting yourself. You will keep your mind and your hands off Prissy if you know what is good for you.”
    The earl chuckled. “Relax, Ger,” he said. “I wouldnot dream of poaching on your territory, my friend. Besides, your Prissy is far too sweet and wholesome for my tastes. My tastes run to far more voluptuous wenches. I regret Rosemary more than I can say. She doubtless got herself thrown out of Kit’s for refusing to work within the rules. Kit and her rules!”
    “I am very thankful for Prissy’s sake that she has them,” Sir Gerald said fervently while his friend turned his head and laughed at him again.

P RISCILLA HAD A DELIGHTFUL FEELING OF FREEDOM and well-being. She was strolling in Hyde Park at