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

felt a jolt strike his chest, reverberating all the way to the base of his spine, even as he realized just how deeply he’d meant the words.
    He trapped her gaze. “And thank you in the broader sense, too. I honestly don’t know what I would have done—how I would have forged on—if you hadn’t offered to take me and my campaign in hand.”
    Her smile deepened, her lovely eyes twinkled. “Well, it is something of a challenge, and a different challenge to boot.” Shutting her diary, she slipped it into her reticule, then nodded across the lawns. “Now we’ve defined the essential elements of our campaign, we should make a start on assembling a short list.”
    He rose as she did. He would have offered his arm, but she lifted her parasol, shook it out, then opened it, angling it to shade her face. Then she looked at him and arched a brow, distinct challenge in her eyes. “Shall we?”
    He waved her on, then fell in beside her, strolling bravely, with no outward sign of his inner trepidation, across the lawns toward the Avenue and the carriages now crowding the verges, and the surrounding hordes of fashionably dressed young ladies and elegantly garbed gentlemen chatting and taking the air.
    He paced slowly, adjusting his stride to hers. While some wary part of his mind still found it difficult to accept that she—The Matchbreaker—really had agreed to help him, she was indeed there, and was indeed helping him, and he was absurdly grateful for that.
    Regardless, he hadn’t expected to dream about her last night, yet he had. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dreamed about a specific woman, rather than a womanly figure, yet last night it had definitely been Henrietta in his dreams; it had been her face, her expressions, that had . . . not haunted, but fascinated. That had held his unconscious in thrall.
    The dream—dreams—had not been salacious, as most of his dreams of women were. Which was just as well; Henrietta was his best friend’s sister, after all. But the tenor of the dream had puzzled him and left him just a tad wary, a touch wondering. His attitude in the dream had felt worshipful, but perhaps that had simply been his gratitude manifesting in a different way.
    Assuring himself that that was most likely the case, he focused on the rapidly nearing crowds. Dipping his head closer to hers, he murmured, “What should I do?”
    “Nothing in particular.” She shot him an assessing glance; he appreciated that she was taller than average, so he could easily see her face. “Just relax and follow my lead.”
    Her tone made him smile. Raising his head, he looked forward. “As you command. Onward—into the breach.”
    As it transpired, the interactions, the exchanges, flowed more easily than he’d anticipated. Henrietta was so well known she could claim acquaintance with virtually all the older ladies and matrons present, and could thus introduce him, in turn gaining him introductions to the ladies’ unmarried charges.
    The next hour passed in steady converse. As they were walking between two barouches, temporarily out of hearing of others, Henrietta tugged his sleeve; when he glanced her way inquiringly, she tipped her head toward a knot of people gathered on the lawn twenty yards away. “That’s Miss Carmichael. She would have been a good candidate, at least for you to consider, but the latest on-dit is that Sir Peter Affry has grown very particular in his attentions. That’s him beside her. As you don’t have time to spare, I see no sense in wasting any on Miss Carmichael—I suspect we’ll have enough candidates to assess without chasing after one some other perfectly eligible gentleman has all but settled on.”
    Curious, James looked over Henrietta’s dark head, peering past her parasol’s edge at the group in question. A fair-haired lady with an abundance of ringlets stood surrounded by a bevy of gentlemen, a much less well-favored young lady by her elbow. The gentleman on the fair