Fortune's Lady Read Online Free

reply, there was a knock at the door and Clara entered.
    â€œHave you any plain barley water?” asked the visitor, declining the offered tray.
    â€œI’m afraid not.”
    â€œAh. No matter.” He watched the maid leave. “No, Miss Merlin, I wasn’t a friend of your father’s. You’ve very little French accent, have you? Hardly even noticeable. How long did you live in Paris?”
    â€œTwelve years.”
    â€œTell me a little about yourself.”
    Cass hesitated. “Mr. Quinn, I don’t mean to be rude, but why should I? I don’t know you at all; I have no idea why you’ve come.”
    He stared at her out of his strange, searching eyes. She had an impression he was re-evaluating, changing an opinion he’d had of her. His hand went to the inside pocket of his coat and brought out a folded piece of paper. “This document will introduce me. I’m an agent of His Majesty the King.” He stood up and handed it to her. “I’ve come to ask for your help.”
    In growing perplexity she opened the stiff paper, staring at the regal-looking seal at the bottom. The document identified Oliver Martin Quinn in legalistic but vague terms as a member of His Royal Highness’s personal ministry, empowered to act in furtherance and on behalf of the security and safety of the realm. Cassandra raised her eyes to the man who stood quietly watching her. “Mr. Quinn, how could I possibly help you?”
    â€œHave you heard of the Constitution Club, Miss Merlin?”
    â€œNo, I haven’t.”
    â€œThe Revolution Society?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe Friends of the People?”
    She spread her hands helplessly.
    He smiled, but he was watching her carefully. “These are organizations in England of men who sympathize with the revolution in France and would like to see its anarchic principles take hold here.”
    â€œI see. Was my father a member of one of them?”
    â€œOf all of them, I should think, at one time or another. You weren’t aware of his sympathies?”
    â€œNo. That is, I knew he sympathized with the Revolution and that, as a journalist, he often wrote in support of it.”
    â€œIndeed. Many supported it, especially in the early days. But your father’s support went a bit further, didn’t it?”
    Cassandra felt herself grow warm. “He did what he believed was right,” she said stiffly.
    His brows lowered; his eyes burned into her. “Do you defend him?”
    She felt ensnared by his eyes; she couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink. “No, I don’t defend him. I’m ashamed of him,” she admitted weakly. It was as if he were drawing the truth from her without her permission. She stood and went to the window, putting the wing chair between them. “But whatever he may have done, Mr. Quinn, he was my father. If you’re expecting me to revile him, you’ll be disappointed.”
    She half-expected him to pursue her, but instead he walked over to the mantel and picked up one of the miniature portraits. “Your mother?” Cass nodded. “A beautiful woman. You’re even more beautiful.”
    â€œThank you,” she said lightly. Compliments sounded odd coming from him, she thought.
    â€œMen are attracted to you.” It was a statement, not a question, and it didn’t sound like a compliment at all. “In a vain and foolish world, that’s a useful skill to possess, Miss Merlin. A very useful skill.”
    She made no answer. She couldn’t imagine what he was leading up to. She finally identified the odor that emanated from him ever so faintly. It was incense.
    He put his hands behind his back and began to pace before the cold hearth. “Your father belonged to another group besides the ones I mentioned, Miss Merlin. A much more dangerous group, one whose name we don’t know, if it even has a name. It meets clandestinely,