Sheri Cobb South Read Online Free PDF

of one thing I am certain: it is not at all the thing for us to leave your sister cooling her heels in the drawing room while we argue in the corridor,” replied Lady Helen, and turned to open the door.
    “For the last time, ‘elen, that girl is not me sister!” Mr. Brundy ground out through clenched teeth. “And I’ll be ‘anged if I’ll do the pretty over dinner with the scheming little hussy!”
    “In that case, we shall miss you, Mr. Brundy,” Lady Helen said placidly, and swept into the drawing room, every inch the duke’s daughter.
    * * * *
    As darkness fell over Mayfair, the stately homes of Belgrave Square fairly blazed with light while inside, their fashionable residents prepared themselves for pleasures abroad. A shaft of light spilled into the street as the front door of one of these abodes was opened, momentarily silhouetting the fashionably dressed gentleman within before the door closed behind him, leaving him alone in the gaslit street.
    In a gesture oddly out of keeping with his elegant evening attire, Sir Aubrey Tabor sagged momentarily against the iron railings fronting the house, breathing an audible sigh of relief. He had survived the obligatory weekly dinner with his widowed mother, during which he had been treated to a lengthy diatribe on his responsibility to increase and multiply.  Furthermore, the dowager Lady Tabor had recommended one Lady Jane Cunningham for his partner in this endeavor. Nothing, not even the gift of a book which Sir Aubrey had purchased that very day in an admittedly craven attempt to forestall just such a lecture, had diverted the good lady’s mind.
    Now, dismissed at last from the matriarchal presence, he found himself in dire need of sympathetic (meaning male) companionship. With this end in view, he shouldered his ebony walking stick and set his feet in the direction of Brooks’s in St. James Street. After surrendering his hat and gloves to the porter, he climbed the stairs to the card room and joined the crowd gathered around the macao table. Although the company was convivial enough, Sir Aubrey’s luck was out, and he soon found himself punting on tick.
    “Deuced ill luck, Sir Aubrey,” commiserated the knightly sexagenarian Sir Linus Hewitt after one such losing hand. “But perhaps you are lucky in love, instead.”
    “Indeed, I am very lucky in that I am unburdened by that most inconvenient of emotions,” agreed Sir Aubrey, wondering if the urge to marry off their juniors was characteristic of his mother’s generation.
    Sir Linus laughed heartily. “So cynical, at such a tender age! That will change soon enough, I trow!”
    “I am thirty!” retorted Sir Aubrey.
    “A mere boy,” chortled Sir Linus, glancing toward the door as yet another gentleman entered the card room. “Ah, now here’s a fellow whose example you might look to!”
    Sir Aubrey opened his mouth to deliver a crushing snub, but upon recognizing the newcomer, he decided Sir Linus was not worth the effort. “I say, Ethan, come have a drop!” he called to the late arrival, snapping his fingers for a waiter. “Garçon! Another bottle of brandy, and an extra glass!”
    So summoned, Mr. Brundy ambled over to the macao table to observe his friend’s progress. The Honourable Robert Jemison obligingly moved aside to make room for him, remarking jovially as he did so, “Well, well, Brundy, we don’t usually have the pleasure of seeing you here of an evening. Have you tired of living under the cat’s foot?”
    “I’ve ‘ad business at ‘ome to attend to,” Mr. Brundy replied more curtly than was his wont.
    “Aye, I remember when I was first wed,” said Sir Linus with a reminiscent gleam in his eye. “As I recall, I often had business at home to attend to, as well—and nine months later, a son bawling lustily in the nursery!”
    A great deal of bawdy laughter greeted this sally, but Mr. Brundy neither refuted nor confirmed the implication. In fact, when he spoke, it was not to Sir