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

She’s not had the opportunity to pursue that avenue.” Tears appeared in Aunt Winnie’s eyes. Her button nose and round cheeks bloomed a bright red. “She’s spent nearly every waking hour taking care of me. You worry she’ll make a hasty marriage, and then you ask her to do just that?”
    “But she must marry,” he said as if May wasn’t in the room or, possibly, too brainless to understand. “Look at her. She’s nearly on the shelf. Before our foolish sister ran off with that crazed gypsy and abandoned her child into our care, she dreamed of the day her babe would marry. Besides, the child’s too headstrong to sink gracefully into the background as you have done, dear Winnie. She needs a man with an iron will to care for her.”
    He gave a meaningful glance out the parlor window to where the graying Mr. Tumblestone was making a show of admiring May’s vibrant yellow and pale pink roses.
    May could see it in her uncle’s eyes then. The man truly believed he was doing her a great kindness. He smiled as he spoke. “In fact, I have already taken it upon myself to select a suitable gentleman for precisely that task.”
    * * * *
    “He means to marry you off to a decrepit old man?” Lady Iona’s ice blue eyes couldn’t possibly open any wider.
    “I don’t believe he is decrepit.” Though his skin appeared as fragile as Aunt Winnie’s and twice as mottled with unusually shaped liver-colored moles, he moved with the energy of a man half his age.
    May swallowed hard, remembering the intimate way Mr. Tumblestone leered at her upon his departure, his hungry gaze not reaching her eyes, his cod-shaped lips moistening. “He is most certainly old,” May whispered.
    Iona linked arms with May as they continued to promenade around the interior of the Pump Room, tilting their heads in greeting to acquaintances. Aunt Winnie sat on a cushioned bench near the grand fountain that circulated the sulfur waters prescribed by doctors as a curative for just about every ailment.
    The water smelled sour, not much different than eggs left sitting in the sun for too long. Despite her aunt’s constant persuasions, May refused to taste a sip.
    Their morning schedule rarely varied. They’d arrive at the Pump Room at eight in the morning, early enough to avoid the thickest crowds, yet late enough to mingle with some of the most influential members of society, which included Iona and several of her unmarried sisters. Iona’s family, led by the respected Duke of Newbury, were all the rage this season, being the highest ranking family to choose Bath over the more popular summer destinations of Brighton or Scotland.
    Before anything else, May would first help her aunt to a comfortable bench and then fetch three glasses of the water, the generally prescribed number to drink a day. Winnie took her time sipping the foul liquid while speaking with friends from her youth. When she had drained the glasses, May would offer her arm as support and the two women would take a turn through the marble interior of the Pump Room, spending more time visiting with members of the ton than getting any sort of vigorous exercise.
    This morning when May offered her arm, Aunt Winnie had declined. She claimed she wished to save her energies for the evening’s fancy ball at the Upper Rooms. May believed otherwise. Her uncle’s surprise appearance had upset Winnie. She appeared paler than usual, her eyes hazy.
    It was Aunt Winnie who’d suggested May stroll with Lady Iona in her stead. May accepted the suggestion gratefully, desperate for a private moment with her closest friend.
    She related the whole story to Iona, including how she’d been too shocked to object, too shocked to do anything but promise to accompany her uncle and Mr. Tumblestone to chapel that afternoon and then stroll along Pulteney Street.
    “You cannot agree to this marriage. It is barbaric.” Iona’s hold on May’s arm tightened. Whenever matters became sticky, Iona would cling to