And Then He Kissed Her Read Online Free PDF

eliciting a round of nods from the other women at the table.
    Unable to refute that very valid point, and too kindhearted to remind them that Diana’s first marriage choice hadn’t been any better than his own had been, Harry decided silence might discourage his sisters. Three seconds told him that strategy was seriously flawed.
    “There’s Mary Netherfield,” Vivian said. “She’s a stylish way about her. Always so perfectly turned out.”
    From Vivian, who adored clothes and paid attention to every feminine fashion, that was the highest of compliments.
    Phoebe negated Lady Mary with a shake of her head. “She hasn’t a prayer. She’s blond and blue-eyed. And she’s the steady, sensible kind.”
    “Yes, but that’s just the sort of wife he needs.” Vivian made a vague gesture in his direction. “He’s so erratic, he needs a steady, sensible girl.”
    “But Harry hates that type.”
    What Harry hated was how they discussed him if he weren’t even in the room. “This is a pointless conversation,” he told them, becoming irritated. “I am never getting married again. How many times do I have to say it?”
    “Oh, Harry,” his mother wailed, looking at him with profound disappointment, “you are so hopeless when it comes to anything important.”
    As if the money he earned, money that kept all of them clothed in Worth gowns, entertained at the opera, and dining in a private dining room at the Savoy, wasn’t important. But he knew it would have been futile to point out to Louisa where the money came from. With his mother, logic was useless, especially about money matters. He’d tried to explain stock shares to her once. It had given them both a headache.
    “You must get married and have sons,” she went on. “Decent cottages are so difficult to find nowadays.”
    What cottages had to do with having a son was beyond him, but there, that was Louisa all over. Saying things he couldn’t follow was second nature to her.
    It was Phoebe who correctly interpreted his puzzled look. “Gerald would never let us live at Marlowe Park if you died and he became the viscount,” she explained. “Since it’s entailed, we’d have to go let a house somewhere.”
    “Ah.” Enlightened, Harry did not point out that the million or so pounds sitting in Lloyd’s earning interest was more than enough security for his family’s future. Instead, he pretended to think the matter over. “I suppose you could always move to America after I’m gone. They’ve plenty of cottages there. Village called Newport has some nice little places.”
    His mother never knew when he was teasing. “Well, this is a fine state of things,” she said, her voice quavering. “What ever shall we do if you die without an heir?”
    Somehow, Harry found his own demise a far more distressing thing to contemplate than his lack of a son, but obviously he was the only one who saw the matter in that light.
    Diana gave a little cough. “As I mentioned before, the Dillmouths brought their Abernathy cousins with them, Nan and Felicity. And I thought—”
    “Enough!” Harry dropped his knife and fork onto his plate with a clatter, at the end of his tether. “Will all of you stop this? No woman onearth will inspire me to make a second attempt at matrimony. I shall never marry again. Ever! Is that clear?”
    In the wake of his outburst, the five women he loved more than anything else in the world stared at him like a litter of wounded kittens. He hated it when they did that.
    He pushed back his plate, and since everyone else had also finished eating, he gestured to the waiter to begin clearing the table. “I don’t know why we’re discussing me anyway,” he said. “It’s Phoebe’s birthday. I think it’s time for her to open her presents. Speaking of which…”
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny, tissue-wrapped package. He presented it to his baby sister with a flourish. “There you are, Angelface. Happy birthday.”
    She