A Season to Be Sinful Read Online Free PDF

the object of a loved ones careful scrutiny. Cybellines study was only different from his godmothers in that her eyes were a steelier shade of gray. You are looking well, Cyb, he said. You are glowing, you know.
    Glowering.
    That also, but I choose to comment on what is lovely about you.
    The glower went completely out of her. She rested her hand lightly on the gentle swell of her belly. She was only three months into her pregnancy and would have welcomed more proof of it. How is it that you know precisely the right thing to say?
    The same instinct that sends a fox running to his earth: self-preservation.
    She tapped him lightly on his arm with her fist. You really are a beast, Sherry. Assured now that he was in every way unharmed, Cybelline backed away and bade him sit once more. She chose the damask-covered chair for a resting place, fitting a small pillow in the curve of her back and placing her feet on an upholstered stool. When she looked up she saw his expression had arrested on her. She laughed. Yes, Sherry, I am going to have a child. Truly. Did you have doubts?
    He blinked. Raising one hand to his dark hair, he plowed through it with an apologetic, if somewhat perplexed, manner. No doubts, he assured her. But I think it is only now penetrating the gray matter.
    She nodded wisely. She knew the look and the feeling. It was akin to her own experience but even more closely mirrored her husbands. It was the same for Nicholas. He accepted the news easily enough, but I know the exact moment he actually understood it. Astonishing, really, when you think about it, since it is the natural course of things. You do realize youll be an uncle?
    I knew that at the outset, but you will understand that until a moment ago it was an abstract concept. He regarded his sisters lovely, familiar features. They were set more softly now than they had been when she entered the room. Then they could only have been described as militant. At this moment a slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and the color in her cheeks was as pink as a perfect English rose. Curling tendrils of hair the color of honey framed her serene countenance like a golden nimbus. She did indeed glow.
    Uncle Sherry, he mused aloud. It suits me, I think.
    Cybelline let her hand flutter over her belly again. Certainly it does. You will be a wonderful uncle. The timbre of her voice dropped slightly as it took on a husky, hopeful quality. Marriage babies your turn as uncle might yet inspire you.
    He grunted softly. You have surely been talking to Aunt Georgia.
    She is entirely sensible on the subject, though that is not why I came here today.
    Sheridan was certain that was so, but wondered now if he should be giad of it. Sighing, he forged ahead. There was no point in avoiding the subject any longer. What have you heard, and more significantly, from whom did you hear it?
    I should have liked to have heard it from you, she said reprovingly. Since you failed to deliver the details yourself, I had the tale from Miss Arbuthnot and Mrs. Dorsey.
    Then it was your ladies literary circle that was titillated by the story. I suppose I may take some solace in that. If my poor adventure is going to be embellished, the best minds should have a crack at it. Come now, out with it.
    The particulars are these, she said, raising one slim hand to tick them off on her fingers. You were set upon by footpads in Covent Garden. Tick. You dispatched one by planting him a solid facer that broke his nose and the other by using his own knife to gut him. Tick. Tick. Miss Dumont made a cake of herself screaming like a banshee while you were attacked. Tick. And when it was over you gave the Charlies enough coin to see that your erstwhile victims were properly cared for. Tick.
    Sherry regarded his sisters open hand for a long moment before he spoke. My. The wags have had a good run with it. Aunt Georgia weaves a story with considerably more warp than weft. I suspect by the time I arrive at the club this