Free Sheri Cobb South by Brighton Honeymoon

indiscretions, she was no light-skirt. There was an air of innocence about her that he could not but believe to be genuine.
    Innocence. He allowed his mind to dwell momentarily on the word. What a curious adjective to apply to a young woman whom he knew to be lying through her pearly white teeth.
    “Thank you for the outing, Sir Aubrey,” said Polly as he reined in his horses before Mr. Brundy’s hired house. “I regret that I cannot say I found it an unqualified pleasure, but I am sure you did your best to make it memorable.”
    Far from taking offense, Sir Aubrey leaped down to assist her in the task of disembarking. “Since we understand each other so much better than we did before, we shall call it educational, rather than enjoyable,” he agreed, bowing over her hand with exaggerated gallantry.
    He did not follow her into the house immediately, but lingered at the horses’ heads toying with their harnesses as an excuse to watch her retreating form. He found himself looking forward to the evening’s theater party with far more eagerness than the occasion warranted. It would be interesting to see what the ton would make of Miss Crump, and more interesting still to see how she would maintain her charade under close scrutiny.
    “Best call the ratcatcher, Ethan,” he murmured under his breath. “I shall get rid of your sister for you, as promised, but I think—yes, I am afraid I must prolong your agony yet awhile.”
     

Chapter 6
     
    Wisest men have erred, and by bad women been deceived.
    JOHN MILTON, Samson Agonistes
     
    At eight o’clock that evening, Polly sat before the dressing table while Lady Helen’s dresser performed the final adjustments to her coiffure. At last satisfied with her handiwork, the little woman stepped aside, allowing Polly to admire the full effect of Urling’s net over a slip of ivory satin. A narrow ivory ribbon was threaded through her red-gold ringlets, and Lady Helen had insisted upon lending Polly her own pearl necklet and earrings for the occasion. By the time she descended the stairs, the former shopgirl felt very fine indeed.
    She joined the others in the drawing room, and checked in the doorway. Nothing in Michin’s Book Emporium had prepared her for the sight of so much elegance assembled under one roof. Lady Tabor, seated in solitary splendor on a low-backed Grecian sofa, was awe-inspiring in a black lace gown that emphasized her delicate bone structure and snow-white hair. The Brundys, both man and wife, stood near the window with their heads together, Lady Helen breathtakingly lovely in sapphire blue silk, her white bosom adorned with the most magnificent diamond necklace that Polly had ever seen—not, to be sure, that she had seen all that many with which to compare it. Even Mr. Brundy looked surprisingly elegant—or at least he did, until Polly’s gaze fell upon Sir Aubrey Tabor. The baronet, dressed in a dark blue long-tailed coat, form-fitting black pantaloons, and a waistcoat of white brocade, quite cast his host into the shade. Polly’s heart began to thump uncomfortably against her ribs, and Sir Aubrey, as if hearing the sound it made all the way across the room, chose that moment to glance her way.
    “Ah, Miss Crump,” he said, his gray eyes gleaming with appreciation as he came forward to greet her. “May I say how much I am looking forward to tonight’s performance?”
    Although Polly could not but be gratified by the admiration in his eyes, something in the tone of Sir Aubrey’s voice suggested that the performance he had in mind was not the professional actors’, but her own.
    “I, too, am eager to see the play,” she replied with the slightest emphasis on the last word.
    After the assembled company had finished admiring one another’s finery, the party split up, Sir Aubrey escorting his mother in one carriage while Mr. Brundy, his wife, and his “sister” followed in another. The little group reassembled in the box Mr. Brundy had hired over