The Cracksman's Kiss Read Online Free Page B

Certainly he was sinfully good looking, but there was something more to him, something she could not quite discern.
    Four more middle aged gentlemen arr ived, and Kassie was distracted as she was introduced to each one. Before she could return to her contemplation of the comté, the butler announced dinner was ready to be served in the formal dining room. The earl escorted and seated her at the foot of the table. He then took his place at the head. Once he was situated, the other gentlemen chose their places.
    To Kassie’s delight, she found the comté seated to her right and an older gentleman, who she hoped she remembered correctly as Lord Kent, seated to her left. He gave her a brief nod and turned his attention to the conversation concerning the artifact.
    Kassie sipped her wine to occupy herself as the men engaged in animated discussion. The unaccustomed tartness of the red beverage thrilled her tongue, and she decided she liked the taste.
    The comté’s smooth voice interrupted her internal speculation. “Lord Everton has excellent taste in wine.”
    She looked up. He gave her a gracious smile and lifted his wine glass to his lips.
    “I suppose so. This is but the second time I have tasted wine,” Kassie explained with a perplexed smile.
    “Indeed?” He paused to take a sip, watching her over the rim of his glass.
    Kassie flushed as she sought an explanation which did not mark her as a child. Finally she sighed and uttered the truth, knowing how unsophisticated it sounded. “My lord insists I should drink milk at dinner.”
    “Milk?” The comté set down his wine glass and quirked an eyebrow. “I should think you are old enough to partake in a glass of wine or two at dinner if you so choose.”
    “My lord says drinking milk is better since I, umm we, are trying to conceive.” She focused her gaze on her napkin in her lap, immediately regretting her admission. “Oh, dear, I suppose I should not have said that. I am unskilled in social graces, I fear.”
    The comté chuckled. “Think nothing of it, Lady Kassandra, I find your candid manner delightful and refreshing.”
    She looked up with skepticism.
    His smile faded, and his lips pressed into a grim line. “You do know Lord Everton has had three other wives and none ever conceived?”
    Kassie nodded. What could she say? He was right. She picked up her glass and finished her wine. Before she returned it to the table a footman hurried to refill it and placed a bowl of turtle soup in front of her.
    The comté leaned forward as soon as the footman moved down the table. “He is incapable of fathering a child, old war injury you know,” he whispered.
    “I beg your pardon?” Kassie’s face burned at the intimate insinuation.
    He gave her a weak smile. “If you are hoping for a child you had better look elsewhere, my dear.”
    Kassie took a hasty swallow of wine and almost choked. Setting the glass down, she cleared her throat, and turned her attention to the soup. Good Lord! Can the man be any crasser?
    “I b eg your pardon, Lady Kassandra, I did not mean to be rude.”
    She glanced up, unsure whether he was amusing himself at her expense.
    The comté smiled. “Sometimes I tend to see things from a slightly uncivilized point of view. I suppose it is from spending too many days digging in the dirt, in some of the most uncouth countries in the world.”
    His words piqued her curiosity. “Digging?”
    “Yes, Lord Everton and I share an interest in acquiring rare artifacts. Unfortunately, we do not agree on what to do with them once they are unearthed.”
    Kass ie stirred her soup in order to occupy her hands. “You want to put my husband’s Egyptian cat in a museum where everyone can see it, but the earl wants to keep it for himself.”
    “Yes.”
    “For what it is worth, I think you are right to want to share it with the world.” Kassie spared her husband a quick glance, hoping he had not overheard her comment. The earl gave no indication he had,