A Season to Be Sinful Read Online Free Page A

certain your valet has your wardrobe well in handhe has never failed to turn you out impressivelybut what of your backside?
    Sherry blinked. He should not have been surprised by the remark, for Lady Rivendale always spoke her mind. Most often it was a refreshing discourse. He found, however, when the subject was his backside the notion of such plain speaking was rather alarming.
    You are really quite charmingly priggish, she said, dropping both hands from her heart to lay them lightly on his forearm. I have always thought so. No, you must not take offense, for none was meant.
    Saying that it is charming does not mitigate the prig-gishness.
    Lady Rivendale smiled deeply. She loved his wry tone. Sherry might be a tad high in the instep, but at least he had the good sense to know it. I will not be persuaded to allow my question to go unanswered.
    Sherry regarded her gravely. When I said I was all of a piece, dear heart, all the pieces included my backside.
    Clapping her hands together smartly as she laughed, her ladyship sat back comfortably on the settee. Splendid. That is perfectly splendid. Now, what of your companion? I suppose she emerged unscathed.
    Had his sister made the remark he would have reproved her, but this was his godmother and he found himself chuckling instead. You will be disappointed to learn it was just so.
    She did not deny it. Bother. I would not wish her any grievous injury, of course.
    Of course.
    But the thought of Miss Dumont tumbling head over bucket, especially if it were done with little grace, well, it is a delicious image.
    Sheridans manner of collecting himself until he could make a considered reply was to lift a single dark eyebrow in a pronounced arch. In that fashion he could communicate re-proach, caution, or even carefully measured astonishment. If the dark glance that accompanied it was equally persuasive, the recipient of this look simply ceased to speak. There were times, though, when Sherrys deeply brown eyes were only amused, and the effect of the raised brow was to lend his expression a touch of the ironic.
    I did not realize you were acquainted with Miss Dumont, he said mildly.
    Acquainted? With your mistress? Hardly, Sherry, and you well know it. To give her hands something to occupy them, Lady Rivendale picked up her teacup and sipped. But aware? Yes, indeed, how could I not be? She has been your consort these last three months. I believe T learned you intended to set her up in that house in Jericho Mews before she knew the same.
    You have never said anything.
    It is not at all flattering that you can scarcely credit it. I have always maintained that you should have some secrets from me.
    Or at least the illusion that I have them, Sherry said dryly.
    Lady Rivendale had the grace to blush. Suffused with pink color, her remarkably smooth countenance hinted at the complete beauty she had been in her youth. In her fifty-second year, she was still a handsome woman by any of societys standards, though proportionately rounder. The visible markers of her advanced age were the graying threads of hair at her temples and the faint but permanent creases at the corner of her eyes. Because she had earned the latter by laughing at the vagaries of life, and the former by surviving them, she accepted both without regrets or any thought of concealment. A military man did not conceal his ribbons, and it was no different for her. Life was a campaign.
    You are put out with me, Sheridan, she said. Do not deny it; I can see that you are. Although I abhor defending myself, I cannot abide that you might think I spy on you. What particulars reach my ears concerning you are never sought by me. Over the rim of the delicate bone china teacup, Lady Rivendale saw her godsons brow rise a fraction higher. Almost never, she amended. Certainly that is true in the case of Miss Dumont. I might have happily lived the rest of my life without knowing you had an arrangement with this woman, but no less a personage than Lady