To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) by Adrienne Basso Page A

each afternoon at tea and each evening at dinner, how was she going to kiss the marquess if she never saw him?
    He apparently did not attend many ton functions. The only place in Society he was seen on a regular basis was Hyde Park. Yet a chance encounter where the nobility spent the afternoon riding about in open carriages and on horseback was hardly the opportune moment to try to kiss the marquess passionately.
    This practical dilemma had kept the twins busy scheming and plotting for two days. Time on the bet was running out, and Meredith had begun to congratulate herself on so neatly diverting her brothers’ attention. However, her smug attitude of success was apparently premature.
    Late last night the twins had wakened her from a sound sleep to gleefully report that the marquess was indeed about to attend a society function that would afford her the perfect opportunity to win the bet.
    So here she stood, ready to enter Lady Dermond’s ballroom in search of the Marquess of Dardington, with the sole intention of luring him to a secluded location and then kissing him in a most passionate manner. Madness, it was pure madness!
    “Good evening, Lady Meredith.”
    That shrill female voice could belong to only one individual. With a cool smile, Meredith turned and faced the Duchess of Lancaster, one of the most ignorant, annoying, and petty females of the beau monde.
    “Your Grace. Lord Byrd.” Meredith dipped a slight curtsy toward the duchess and her escort. “How pleasant to see you both.”
    “This is a surprise,” the duchess declared with a haughtily raised eyebrow. “I was unaware you had come to town this Season.”
    “I’ve only recently arrived,” Meredith lied smoothly. She felt the woman’s keen gaze skim her from head to toe. The glint of jealousy that flashed in the other woman’s eyes was brief, but distinct.
    Meredith nearly sighed. She had hoped that with time the duchess would eventually forget Meredith had rejected marriage proposals from both the duke and Lord Hawke, a former lover of the duchess. Apparently she had not.
    “You appear to be without escort this evening,” the duchess observed slyly. “Perchance have you come as a chaperon for one of the younger ladies? Or perhaps you are serving as a companion for one of the elderly dowagers?”
    “You are so witty, Your Grace.” One corner of Meredith’s mouth turned up. “I am neither a chaperon nor a companion. My two male escorts await me inside the ballroom.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then we shall take you to them,” the duchess declared.
    “You are too kind, Your Grace,” Meredith said. She turned toward Lord Byrd with a deliberate smile of encouragement. “I have a small errand to attend to first. It should take me no more than ten minutes. Will you wait for me here?”
    “Of course,” Lord Byrd answered. He bowed low to better ogle her bosom and offered her a sly wink.
    Meredith somehow managed to keep a half smile on her lips. In her opinion, Lord Byrd was the worst sort of male. He had married an heiress to obtain control of her fortune and now kept his meek, frail wife hidden away on his country estate.
    It was said the only time he ever visited the poor woman was to get her with child so she would be forced to remain in the country. The rest of Lord Byrd’s time was spent in London, in pursuit of any and all selfish pleasures.
    “Did you say ten minutes, Lady Meredith?” the duchess inquired, tapping her fan rapidly against her palm.
    “At the very least,” Meredith replied smoothly.
    “Perhaps it would be best if we went on without you,” the duchess decided.
    Meredith inclined her head graciously, pleased to see the pursed expression on the duchess’s face. The pair bowed and left her, but Meredith knew her fate was sealed. She could not possibly leave without entering the ballroom, or else the duchess would believe she had somehow managed to force her away.
    Still, Meredith was determined to make a her