Not Always a Saint by Mary Jo Putney Page A

ought to remember her, but instead, I had only a vague sense of familiarity.”
    â€œShe doesn’t sound familiar to me, but my idea of beautiful is probably different from a man’s,” Laurel observed. “Did you notice what she was wearing?”
    â€œBlack.” Only now did he realize what that meant. “A mourning gown, I think. The cut was very modest, not evening décolleté like most of the female guests are wearing.” And yet the effect had been profoundly alluring.
    â€œPerhaps she’s related to someone you know,” Laurel said thoughtfully. “Someone who knows me would think you’re familiar and vice versa.”
    â€œPerhaps that’s it. I don’t recall seeing any women who were staggeringly beautiful other than Laurel,” Kirkland said with a fond glance at his wife. “But if she’s part of the beau monde, you’ll likely meet her in other places.”
    Daniel shrugged. “No matter. I was merely surprised by a brief sense of recognition.” Which was considerably less than the truth, but he couldn’t possibly explain that mad, flaring attraction. It meant nothing, and yet... “I did but see her passing by . . .”
    Daniel gave his head a sharp shake. He’d never been much for poetry, but for the first time he understood the romantic fervor of the anonymous poet who’d written those words centuries before. The fellow had clearly been suffering from temporary madness.
    If Daniel had actually met the woman in black, the reality of her would have had nothing to do with that brief fantasy. She would have been just a pretty woman, probably married, and not at all mysterious and dangerous. With her beauty, she might well be shallow and spoiled. The crowd of men surrounding her suggested as much. Better to bury that lightning bolt of reaction in the back of his mind. Even if she was unmarried, she did not look like wife material.
    Kirkland’s voice cut through his reverie. “Here’s a lady you’ll want to meet.”
    Daniel turned obediently and found himself face-to-face with Lady Agnes Westerfield, founder and headmistress of the Westerfield Academy. “Lady Agnes!” he exclaimed. “I had no idea you might be here!” He impulsively hugged her, remembering with a rush of affection how she’d shown him the tolerance and understanding that was so lacking in his parents.
    â€œI’m in town to interview several potential students. It’s about time you came to London, you rascal!” She laughed as she hugged back. “Best let me go now, though. People will think I’ve taken a young lover in my dotage.”
    â€œDotage, indeed.” He surveyed Lady Agnes, who looked as tall and strong and capable as always. “Your students may have caused a few gray hairs in the last dozen years, but otherwise you haven’t aged a day. I suspect you’ve made a pact with the devil.”
    â€œThen you’ll just have to exorcise me.” She glanced at Kirkland and Laurel. “I’m taking Daniel outside so we can talk properly. Look for us when you’re ready to leave.”
    â€œWhich won’t be long.” Laurel tucked her hand in the crook of her husband’s arm. “I’m beginning to tire.”
    Kirkland patted her hand. “We’ll go say hello to the Castlereaghs, then join you outside.” Which would give Daniel and Lady Agnes time to talk.
    Forceful as always, Lady Agnes took Daniel’s arm and towed him toward the exit door. The noise dropped sharply when they stepped through into a corridor.
    â€œBlessed relief,” Lady Agnes said as she released Daniel’s arm.
    He’d locked memories of the Westerfield Academy away with so much of his youth, but now he remembered all the good times there. “I trust the school is flourishing? How are Miss Emily and the general?”
    â€œEmily and the general are well, and so