And Then He Kissed Her Read Online Free Page A

profound relief. Too bad he couldn’t avoid the opera as easily as he avoided Miss Dove’s manuscripts.

Chapter 2
    Sisters are the very devil. When they are children, they torture and torment you. When they are grown, they try to find you a wife, which amounts to the same thing.
    Lord Marlowe
The Bachelor’s Guide, 1893
    “L ord Dillmouth and his daughters have arrived in town. Their cousins, the Abernathy girls, came with them.”
    With those words from his sister Diana, Harry knew what was coming next. He signaled to the waiter hovering nearby for more wine, knowing he would need it. “What a thrilling piece of news. Shall I print it in one of my papers?”
    “Mama and I saw them at intermission tonight.” The eldest of his three sisters, six yearsyounger than himself, Diana was beautiful and clever. She was also amazingly single-minded. Undaunted by his lack of enthusiasm for the subject she had introduced, Diana ceased discussion of it only long enough to tuck a loose tendril of her dark brown hair behind her ear and take a sip of her wine, then she carried on. “They were looking so well. Lady Florence, especially. She is an acknowledged beauty.”
    “I daresay she is,” he agreed at once. “Odd how her brains are less admired.”
    “Juliette Bordeaux being a prime example of how much you value feminine intellect,” Diana shot back at once.
    Harry decided not to mention he’d broken with Juliette. It would only encourage the hope he’d remarry. “She’s a keener mind than Lady Florence,” he said instead. “Although that’s not saying much, I grant you.”
    His youngest sister spoke up. “Why do you associate with that woman?” Phoebe asked, her adorable cherub face scrunching up with genuine puzzlement.
    Harry didn’t enlighten her, for the appeal of voluptuous cancan dancers was hardly a subject that a gentleman discussed with his sisters.
    His mother seemed to share his opinion on the topic. “Phoebe, that will be enough,” Louisa said, trying to sound firm and authoritative, but his mother, alas, was as firm as a custard. Which was why, Harry felt sure, he had three impossible sisters.
    “After all,” Louisa added obscurely, “we are dining at the Savoy.”
    His middle sister, Vivian, began to laugh. “What does that have to do with it, Mama?” She glanced around the luxurious private dining room in which they were seated. “These red walls, crystal chandeliers, and gold brocade draperies seem lavish enough for a music hall dancer.”
    “Vivian!” Antonia, his grandmother, cast a disapproving glance around the table. “We shall not discuss that Bordeaux woman any further,” she ordered, her ponderous voice far more impressive than his mother’s dithery accents. “It upsets my digestion.”
    Because she was close on eighty, Grandmama’s commands and her digestion were both regarded with respect. The subject of Juliette was dropped, much to Harry’s satisfaction. Too bad they couldn’t also leave off speculations about his non ex is tent future wife, a subject of unceasing fascination for the women in his family, especially his sisters.
    “Lady Florence is a bit thick, Di,” Vivian said, reverting to the subject Diana had introduced, agreeing with Harry’s assessment on the intelligence of the younger Dillmouth girl. “Surely we can do better.”
    “My preferences mean nothing, I know,” he said, donning an air of humble deference to the wisdom of his sisters’ matchmaking abilities, “but the idea of marrying Florence Dillmouth makes me shudder.”
    “The idea of marrying anyone makes you shudder,” Diana said wryly. “That’s the problem.”
    “That, Di, is not a problem. It’s a blessing. Phoebe, pass the ham.”
    Phoebe complied with his request. “What about Florence’s sister, Melanie?” she suggested as Harry helped himself to ham. “Melanie’s all right. She’s nice without being humbug. I rather like her.”
    “Excellent,” he said around a mouthful