The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection Read Online Free PDF Page A

with his gaze. The parlor had always felt cozy. Today, under the cloud of her uncle’s glower, it merely felt impossibly small, inadequate.
    “You wrote to your uncle?” Aunt Winnie inclined her head toward May. She sounded genuinely baffled. “Why ever didn’t you tell me?” Winnie’s surprise wasn’t unfounded. May never wrote her uncle without her aunt’s prodding.
    “I didn’t wish to worry you, Aunt Winnie,” May said and then hesitated. Mr. Tumblestone had leaned forward in his chair—a chair conveniently positioned next to May’s—and appeared far too keen on listening to what promised to be a painfully private family matter.
    For once Uncle Sires seemed to approve of her reluctance. “I see my niece is quite the gardener. If I recall properly, she does have an uncommon flare with roses.” He pointed to a small plot just outside the parlor window.
    May had tried to encourage a collection of roses to climb an arbor in their tiny garden, allowing bushes of pale pink cabbage roses to intermingle with the white and pale yellow Albas. Her efforts created a tangle of vines heavy with blooms. The flowers were suitable for flower arrangements. They were not, not by any stretch of the imagination, a garden showpiece.
    “Perhaps you would like to take a closer look.” In typical Uncle Sires form, the request was presented like a royal command.
    Mr. Tumblestone fidgeted nervously for a moment. Drawing his wide lips into a closed-mouthed smile, he directed the strange expression at May and then upon Aunt Winnie. “I think I would enjoy inspecting the blooms.” His smile returned to May, and his watery gaze lingered on her body for several uncomfortable moments. “I am a great lover of beauty.”
    He stood then, gave Uncle Sires a knowing nod, and excused himself to go wander outside. May breathed a sigh of relief when the parlor door closed behind him. Something about his manner, like a man starving for sustenance, put her nerves on edge.
    “Someone will explain,” Aunt Winnie demanded. Though her heart might be growing weak, her resolve was as strong as ever. “Why would you have correspondences with Sires without my knowledge? And why, Sires, did you bring this man into my house?”
    May rushed to her aunt’s side. She crouched down beside the chair, positioning herself between her uncle and Winnie with the hopes of shielding her aunt from hearing anything too upsetting. Winnie placed her hand in May’s. Her aging skin felt thinner than the finest muslin.
    “I only meant to protect you,” May said when Uncle Sires opened his mouth to speak. “You must understand that.” May could not imagine a world without Aunt Winnie. She’d do anything to protect the sole person whose love persisted as a sunny constant in her life.
    She turned to her uncle. His scowl deepened when their eyes met. “There was no need for you to come all this way over a trifling,” she said.
    “Hush, May.” Aunt Winnie’s gentle voice belied the rebuke. She intended to be included in the discussion. The only clue of her aunt’s budding exasperation were the light blotches of color appearing low on her throat. “Sires, you may speak.”
    “The child wrote to me asking for money.” Very rarely did Uncle Sires use May’s name. To him, regardless of her age she was forever the child , spoken with a healthy dose of sulfur.
    “Is this true?” Aunt Winnie asked of May. “Did something happen to your parents’ funds?”
    “The child’s parents are dead,” Uncle Sires announced before May could think of how to explain the situation without worrying her aunt.
    Winnie gasped at the horrible news and clutched May’s hand.
    “They are not dead,” May said. Her voice sounded shrill like a petulant youth’s. She cleared her throat. “They may not have written for many years, Uncle. Beyond that, there is no evidence that anything is amiss.”
    “The child understandably refuses to accept the truth. They were last seen