Season to Be Sinful by Jo Goodman

Author:Jo Goodman [Goodman, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780821777756
Google: UjiSDewfEtMC
Amazon: 0821777750
Barnesnoble: 0821777750
Goodreads: 323422
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2005-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Oh, surely not.”

“You would prefer to dine in your room?”

“I would prefer they dined in theirs. It is not the done thing, Sherry, for children to sit with the adults.”

“It is done here at Granville. Not always, certainly, but on special occasions my own parents permitted Cybelline and me to join them. I seem to recall that you were present more than once.”

“That was entirely different. We indulged you both, and you had the advantage of not being raised by wolves.”

“Are you afraid they will snap and growl at you?”

“Do not be impertinent.” She pursed her lips and leveled a reproving glance at him. “You might at least tell me their names, Sherry. Arthur said you were closed mouth there.”

“Pinch, Dash, and Midge—the diminutive of Smidgen, not Midget.”

“You cannot be serious.”

He shrugged.

“Oh, Sherry, it is far worse than I imagined. In every way that can be conceived, this is a ramshackle affair.” She breathed deeply through her nose, nostrils flaring slightly, and released the breath slowly.

“What can you have been thinking?”

Since she had posed the same question before, Sherry believed this one was strictly rhetorical. In any event, he had no intention of answering. “Then you will not approve of this either, Aunt, but I am making arrangements to make them my wards.”

Sherry had never considered his godmother faint of heart, but he was tempted to call Digby to fetch the smelling salts. He judged the moment as passing quickly and encouraged her to sit on the chaise longue to collect herself.

It was at the exact point of color returning to her face that the door to her room swung open hard and Pinch and Midge skidded breathlessly to a stop on the edge of the carpet.

“Beggin‘ yer pardon, but it’s Miss Rose!” Midge cried. “She’s taken a spill from the top o’ the chestnut!

Ye must come, m’lord! I fear she is broken!”

Lady Rivendale ignored the urchins dancing with anxiety on the perimeter of the room. She had eyes only for her godson’s pale countenance, and upon seeing it, saw her greatest fears confirmed. Her dear boy wasn’t thinking at all; he was besotted.

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