And Then She Fell (Cynster 19 Cynster Sisters Duo #1) Read Online Free PDF

than average, soft blue eyes—rather like you. James kept the words from his lips and substituted, “In all honesty I’m more interested in the substance than the package—on what’s inside, rather than outward appearance.” He glanced at her. “In the circumstances, it’s more important that I marry a lady of sound character who accepts me as I am, and accepts the position that I’m offering for what it is, and is willing to devote herself to the position of my wife.”
    She’d caught his gaze; she searched his eyes, then inclined her head and faced forward. “That’s an admirable attitude and an excellent answer.” After a moment, she blew out a breath. “So we know what manner of lady we’re looking for.”
    “Now, how do we find her?”
    “Did you bring your invitations as I asked?”
    He fished in his pocket and drew out the stack of cards he’d received.
    She took them, placed them in her lap, and started leafing through them . . . and stopped, frowning. “These aren’t sorted.”
    No . . . “Should they be?”
    She glanced at him, perplexed. “How do you keep track?” When he blinked, not quite sure what she meant, she huffed and waved. “No—never mind. Here.” She regathered the stack and gave it back to him. “Sort them by date, starting with tonight. And we’re only including events at which marriageable ladies of the ton will be present.”
    “Hmm.” That cut out a good half of the invitations he held. Somewhat reluctantly laying the others—the invitations to dine with friends at clubs and the like—aside, he combed through the untidy sheaf, extracting and ordering as she’d instructed.
    Meanwhile, she opened her reticule, rummaged inside, and drew out a medium-sized calfskin-bound book. She opened it, smoothed the page, then set it in her lap.
    He glanced over and realized the book was her appointment diary. It was roughly five times the size of his and, he noted, had roughly five times the entries for each day.
    She waited—with reined patience—for him to reach the end of his sorting. “Right, then,” she said as he neatened the pile. “Let’s start from this evening.” She tapped an entry in her diary. “Do you have an invitation to Lady Marchmain’s rout?”
    He had. They progressed through the next two weeks, noting those events she deemed most useful for their now-shared purpose for which he already had invitations; where that wasn’t the case, she made a note to speak to the relevant hostess. “There’s not a single hostess who will refuse to have you, especially if she suspects you’re bride-hunting.”
    “Ah . . .” A horrible vision flooded his mind. “We’re not going to make any public declaration of my urgent need for a bride, are we?”
    “Not as such.” She looked at him—as if measuring how much to tell him, or how best to break bad news. “That said, as you’ve already been courting Melinda but have parted from her, most will know, or at least, as I said, suspect that you’re actively looking about you, but as long as you’re with me, under my wing so to speak, I seriously doubt you’ll be mobbed.”
    “Oh—good.” He wasn’t sure whether to feel reassured or not. After a moment, he added, “I purposely haven’t let it get about that I’m under any time constraint. I imagine that if I let my desperation become known, I won’t be able to appear in public without attracting a bonneted crowd.”
    She chuckled. “Very likely. Keeping your deadline a secret is indubitably wise.” Returning to her diary, she flipped through the next weeks. “But as to that, as I didn’t learn you had a deadline even though I learned the rest, I can’t imagine any other lady will readily stumble on the information, so you should be safe on that score.”
    He nodded, then realized she hadn’t seen. “Thank you.”
    She glanced at him, her soft blue eyes glowing, her delicately sculpted, rose-tinted lips curved in an absentminded smile, and he