A Season to Be Sinful Read Online Free Page B

Calumet repeated the on dit within my hearing. Deliberately done, make no mistake, but entirely for my benefit. She knows I dote on you.
    Then perhaps I should extend my thanks. Will a note be enough, or should I call on her?
    Her ladyship went on as if Sherry had not interrupted. He meant not a word of what he said, and they both shared that understanding. I doubt that Miss Dumont is even French, so if she has tales of escaping the Terror or of connections to the Bourbons to retain your sympathies and lighten your pockets, it is all lies and nonsense. Miss Duplicitous is what the baggage should call herself.
    Sherry was glad he was holding his tumbler of whisky and not drinking from it. By only the narrowest bit of luck did he manage to swallow his laughter rather than choke on it. Pray, do not mince words. If you have an opinion, I should like to hear it.
    Unlike her beloved godson, Georgia Pendelton had never held back laughter in her life, and she was not inclined to begin now. It was no polite, trilling titter that escaped her. When she laughed it was an abandonment of genteel sensibilities in favor of a full-throated, husky shout of her delight. Her shoulders and bosom were engaged in the activity, heaving once, then merely shuddering until the first wave of amusement passed. There was little delicacy in the movements, though in the end, when she dashed away the tears that had collected at the corner of her eyes, it was accomplished with a certain gravitas .
    You are an evil boy, she said without rancor. I am certain I knew it from the first. Look, you have made me spill my tea. Since every drop had been neatly caught by the saucer, her accusation did not have the weight of a rebuke.
    At once solicitous, though with an exaggerated formality that made his gesture a parody of concern, Sheridan leaned forward and took the cup and saucer from her hand. He tipped the saucer so the droplets of tea slid onto the serving tray, replaced it under the cup, then added a generous pour of whisky from his own tumbler to her tea.
    For your nerves, he said. Drink deeply.
    Lady Rivendale was immediately alert. What is it? Never say you mean to marry the girl.
    No, he said firmly. I confess, the idea has never occurred to me. It is not a done thing.
    This time when her ladyships plump bosom heaved, it was with relief. She could point out to him that it was indeed a done thing, though perhaps not very well done. As annoying as Sherrys perfect sense of propriety could be on occasion, there were times, such as now, that it was a most comforting aspect of his character. He actually looked a bit affronted that she had even briefly entertained the notion.
    I am heartily glad to hear it, she said. She raised her cup and took a deep swallow. The whisky blended nicely with the teas piquant flavor and admirably warmed her. She regarded him expectantly. Well?
    Last evenings incident at the garden was not without bloodshed.
    The whisky kept Lady Rivendales complexion in the pink. He was right to suspect she would need it. But not yours, she said, eyes narrowing again.
    No. Not mine. Before she could interrupt, he hastened to add, And I did not do murder, though that thought did occur to me. It was the fellow who bowled me over who was stabbed.
    Hoist with his own petard, Id say. He meant to rob you.
    Sherry nodded thoughtfully. It appears that way.
    You are entertaining some doubts?
    No, not really. It all happened very fast. Most of the crowd scattered. Perfectly understandable. You can imagine there was a great deal of screaming.
    A fair amount of it from Miss Dumonts substantial lungs.
    He confirmed his godmothers observation with a faint grimace. The memory of Francines shrill vocalizations following the attack still echoed in his ears unpleasantly. It was generally agreed by those witnesses who were in the least reliable that the fellow tripped in his approach and was caught by his own blade.
    A grievous wound? she asked. Or will he hang for