Free An Invitation to Sin by Suzanne Enoch Page A

I've been a great many places. Perhaps I could recommend a nice inn, or a park nearby."
    He was certain he heard a faint snort. "Vienna," she said after a moment, and continued toward the mercantile store.
    "Vienna," he said, masking his surprise. "Lovely town. Cold in the winter."
    "I could have told you that, and I've never been there."
    No, he wouldn't have described her as reserved, though she did seem to be trying—which made interfering practically irresistible. 'To be honest, I never have, either. I was hoping you'd say London, or Venice."
    Her feet hesitated. "You've been to Venice?"
    "On my Grand Tour. Rome, Paris, Athens, and everywhere in between. I stayed to the south, where it was warmer."
    "So you saw David?" her quiet voice asked.
    "I assume you mean the statue?" he returned, sensing that he'd found another weak spot in her armor. Humor and statuary. Hm . "Yes, I did. And the Sistine Chapel. The—"
    She turned around again, seizing his sleeve. "Was it marvelous?"
    He hesitated. This was generally the moment when his brothers began asking him about the selection of wines and the quality of women he'd encountered during his travels across Europe. In fact, when he'd returned to England he'd swiftly come to the conclusion that he'd erred in spending so much of his time viewing antiquities and famous works of art, despite the fact that he couldn't remember ever having enjoyed himself so greatly.
    The favorite joke at his expense from both Shay and Sebastian, and even Eleanor, had been his interest in the quality and quantity of the food more than anything else. After a few days of annoyance and frustration he'd shrugged and given in, deciding it was easier to accept the teasing than to keep protesting it—especially when he couldn't really explain why he'd been so captivated by what he'd seen. It had been damned out of character for him, though at the moment he was glad for it.
    At least he had more in common with the unique Miss Witfeld than a sense of humor. Of course she would want to know about the artworks he'd seen. She expected that he would have an opinion about what he'd seen, and she actually wanted to hear it—which meant he had to be honest about it for once. And that made him surprisingly uncomfortable.
    "When I visited the Louvre," he admitted slowly, "I stood for nearly an hour looking at Michelangelo's painting, the Mona Lisa . Have you heard of it?"
    Caroline drew a sharp breath. "Of course I have. I've seen sketches and copies, but to see the actual… Would you please tell me your impression of it?"
    Pretending not to notice the way she'd twined her hand around his arm, Zachary pulled open the door to the mercantile store with his free hand. "I don't know how much my impressions are worth, but I would be pleased to."
    She nearly stumbled in the doorway, and he pulled her closer against his side to keep her upright. He couldn't remember ever meeting a woman as focused as she was—and his sister, Eleanor, was famous for her single-mindedness.
    Zachary hid the smile that wanted to touch his mouth. "What was it that your father wanted you to get for him again?"
    "What?" Caroline blinked, as if suddenly realizing where they were. "Oh. Hello, Mr. Mullen," she greeted the burly man behind the counter. "Did Papa's modeling clay come in?"
    The shopkeeper nodded. "It did indeed, Miss Witfeld. And so did those sketch pads you ordered from London."
    She grinned, the expression lighting her green eyes. "Oh, that's splendid. How much do I owe you?"
    "Thirty shillings."
    Putting the money on the counter, she accepted the flat bundle which must have been the sketch pads, and then reached for the damp, burlap-wrapped brick of clay. Zachary stepped in and intercepted it. "Allow me."
    "Thank you, my lord."
    He caught the straightening of the shopkeeper's shoulders as Miss Witfeld addressed him. If the village was as company-starved as Caroline and his aunt had indicated, the news of his presence would make for