Free A Season to Be Sinful by Jo Goodman Page B

the country. Now he was fair on his way to believing that his life had been turned by this moments inattention.
    What he did not know, could not know, was if he had truly been the target. Miss Rose was engaged in dangerous practices; she may well have been the mark. Another attack on one of them would certainly answer that niggling question, but waiting for it was not his way. Ignoring the possibility that the blade had been meant for him, however, was foolish in the extreme.
    You have the advantage, Miss Rose, he said quietly. You know something I do not. One corner of his mouth lifted, the expression more considering than gently amused. Your recovery would be of great service to me, although I cannot promise that it will not end at Tyburn for you. An eyebrow lifted as he regarded her pale, immobile features. It is not so much the choices we must make but the choices we are given. Scylla. Charybdis, He turned his hand over, then over again, as though examining two sides of a coin. They are not so very different, are they?
    She remained quiet. He could not hear her breathing, but the rise and fall of her chest assured him that she was. Her slender arms lay at her side outside of the blanket. His shirt was absurdly big for her. The sleeves were rolled three times and still the cuffs rested just above her wrists. The shirts neck was open, slightly askew, and the sharp line of one collarbone was visible. Her skin was drawn so tightly over it, it looked painful.
    He had revised his ideas about her age. Once her bindings had been removed, he knew she was much closer to twenty than she was to twelve. He and Kearns had made every effort to preserve her modesty, but he was keenly aware that Midge had been correct in his assessment of his teachers physical attributes.
    The boys seemed to have found nothing odd about her attire that night, yet they knew very well that she was a woman full grown. Did they understand the purpose of her disguise? Sherry realized he had never asked them. Recognition of this oversight changed the shape of his slight smile so that it became more derisive. How many more mistakes could he make before the full weight of them was brought to bear?
    Sighing deeply enough to make the candlelight flicker, Sherry wondered about his next course of action. He would permit her to recuperate in his home, if she survived the journey there. To protect his reputation and that of his family, some measure of secrecy would be required, but he was practiced at secrets. He had already decided that moving her into his residence would best be accomplished at night and through the servants entrance. His neighbors were unlikely to notice anything untoward, but their retainers were infinitely more alert to activity out of the ordinary. He would rely on his own staff to quell rumors. It was to their benefit to do so. There was no standing in being associated with an employereven one with a title and fortunewho had gone queer in the head.
    Sherry leaned toward the table and set the candlestick down. He started to rise, glimpsed a faint movement from his patient, and dropped back in the chair. At first he didnt know what it was he had seen. Her breathing seemed unchanged by any exertion or flutter of awareness. Then he caught the quarter turn of her wrist. Her fingers began to curl with aching slowness until her hand formed a loose fist. She did it several times over before he realized she was trying to tug at the blanket covering.
    Uncomfortable, are you? he asked. That is something I can fix. He lifted the woolen blanket carefully where it had bunched under her hip and retucked it under the mattress. Better?
    The question was not meant to elicit a response, so Sherry was surprised when two of his fingers were caught by hers. She squeezed lightly at first, so lightly that he thought he imagined it; then he saw the change in the shape of her knuckles and knew it was true. His eyes went to hers and saw they were still closed, but when his