An Invitation to Sin Read Online Free PDF Page B

Zachary shook himself. Losing concentration here could lead to some very sticky entanglements, multiplied by seven.
    "Lord Zachary, is it true that you have two older brothers?" one of the twin Witfeld girls asked.
    He finished his bite of roasted chicken and nodded. "Yes. Charlemagne and Mel—"
    "And all of you are unmarried?"
    No wonder just about everyone at the table had finished their dinner except for him. He didn't have time to get words out or food in. "Melbourne is a widower, but yes, technically we're all—"
    "Mama said that your sister recently married the Marquis of Deverill. Is that true?"
    Zachary sighed. "Yes, last month in Scot—"
    "How do you like your chicken, Lord Zachary?"
    The two bites he'd managed had been cold by the time he'd gotten to them. "It's quite delicious. Thank y—"
    "Chicken is my favorite, as well, isn't it, Anne? Do you like to waltz?"
    And the oldest girl kept staring at him. This was beginning to be annoying. "I enjoy dan—"
    "We had a private tutor teach us all the latest dances. The assembly rooms at Trowbridge are fabulous for balls and soirees. They put up silver ribbons and balloons."
    Zachary was beginning an internal debate—not something he generally wasted time on—over whether it was more rude to stare or to interrupt. He enjoyed a good conversation, and definitely a good meal, but though he'd been gazed at admiringly before, he couldn't remember so… intense or extended a look before now.
    "Lord Zachary, do—"
    "Lord Zachary, how—"
    "My lord, did—"
    He set down his fork with a clatter and turned to face her. "Miss Witfeld, is something troubling you?"
    The corners of her eyes crinkled as she gazed back at him. "No, my lord."
    He noted that the rest of the horde stopped peppering the air with questions. They stopped talking altogether, as a matter of fact. Even Mr. Witfeld, who'd been ignoring the female cacophony in favor of his roasted potatoes, stopped a forkful halfway to his mouth. "Oh. Good, then," Zachary muttered, disconcerted at the abrupt silence, and went back to his meal.
    The chaos resumed before he could begin chewing. "Lord Zachary, what is your horse's name?"
    "Sagramore."
    "Like the knight in the King Arthur legend?" another of them asked.
    "Yes."
    "And your dog?"
    "Harold."
    And the eldest sister still looked at him and still didn't participate in the general roar of conversation.
    "Lord Zach—"
    "What are you staring at, then, Miss Witfeld?" he interrupted again. So he wasn't working on being patient tonight; no one would tell Melbourne.
    "Your ears, my lord," she returned promptly, her voice perfectly serious.
    "My—" He hadn't expected that. "My ears?"
    "Yes, my lord."
    Surreptitiously he angled his knife to take a look at them in the reflection. He hadn't cut either of them off while shaving before dinner, at any rate. "What's so interesting about my ears, if I might ask?"
    "The shape of them."
    He thought her mouth twitched, but he couldn't be certain. Now the rest of the Witfelds were staring at his ears, as well. Bloody wonderful . "Aren't everyone's ears nearly the same as mine?"
    This time he was certain he saw amusement touch her eyes, and the crinkles at their corners deepened once again. "Oh, no, my lord. Your ears are quite unique."
    "That's probably from having his oldest brother yank on them so frequently to get Zachary to behave," Aunt Tremaine put in.
    "There's nothing wrong with my ears," he stated.
    "I think you have lovely ears," the youngest Witfeld offered.
    "No, they're handsome, not lovely," another one argued.
    The next argument was over whether a man's ears could be termed "pretty" or "lovely" or if more masculine compliments were appropriate. Zachary took the moment to lean across the corner of the table toward the oldest girl. "What's wrong with my ears?" he murmured.
    Soft color touched her cheeks for the first time since their odd conversation had begun. "Nothing. You only asked me what I was looking at, and I