The Fashionable Spy Read Online Free Page B

be so prim, she had the laciest of petticoats. Her present gown looked to be one favored by an ape leader, yet Miss Dancy was young, too young to be on the shelf, although certainly not just out of the schoolroom. He wondered about the other items of clothing in her bag, then shook his head in disgust. Surely he had more necessary things to consider. In spite of her brave words, he knew what had to be done. After all, she was of the gentry, and a lady.
    He had met her brother. Would she demand he consult with him, since Lord Dancy was the head of her family? That might make it difficult, as he doubted that young man planned to return to England in the near future.
    When Edward joined her before the fire, it seemed as though she had conceded their predicament, for she gave him a hesitant smile and appeared to relax when he returned it with a smile of his own. Accepting the mug of tea from her, he picked up a slab of bread and sausage from the cracked plate, while seeking the words to convince her of their fate. Once settled beside her, he brought up the subject he knew he could not avoid.
    “You are well and truly compromised by this stay with me,” he began. “Surely you cannot dismiss our situation, unplanned though it might be?”
    “Nonsense,” she answered with an indignant sniff. “Who is to know about it?”
    “In my experience, someone is bound to find out. Your coachman and my groom are in Canterbury, most likely together. Even if they keep mum about the accident, surely someone will take note, and gossip spreads with amazing speed.” He gazed at her over the rim of his mug, trying to assess her emotions or reaction to the truth of his words.
    “That I have noticed,” she answered with a wry tinge to her voice.
    “I see.” Had she been gossiped about? He imagined she might be, as an artist. He had heard things, vague rumblings, nothing concrete, but enough to make him wonder. He wished he could remember what more it was he had heard about her, and where.
    “However,” she continued, ignoring his silence, “I fancy I shall survive it. After all, the Polite World expects bizarre behavior from one who is an artist, you know.” She sketched an affected and rather amusing gesture in the air, and then smiled. Her eyes were truly an amazing shade of clear blue and seemed fathoms deep as he gazed into them.
    “However,” he countered, “ I am not an artist. My conduct is above reproach. I insist you accept my offer for marriage, Miss Dancy.” He waited, gauging the impact of his words by the little gasp that escaped from her lips.
    Victoria studied the aristocratic lord for several moments, then dropped her lashes down, thus concealing her eyes and the expression in them. “Your sacrificial offer is quite unnecessary, Sir Edward, although I appreciate the gesture more than I can say.”
    Julia and Elizabeth would shake the stuffing out of her if they knew about this situation and her rejection. Not That Victoria hadn’t received propositions. She’d had them flung at her, she’d had them slyly thrust at her, and they’d been written to her by the score. Alas, they were also most improper, as she supposed she might expect under the circumstances of her peculiar life. But to have a suitable offer of marriage at this point in time was advantageous. It was also dangerous to them both. She had come to admire Sir Edward, and had no intention of involving him in her perils.
    “I believe we deserve better, sir. Certainly I have no desire for a forced wedding to one who would rather be elsewhere, wedded to someone other than myself. I trust you have a cherished lady?” Victoria darted a glance at his face before returning her gaze to the flames. It made no difference to her whether he had a lady he esteemed, did it? She’d not wed him regardless. “I do appreciate the nobility of your gesture, however.”
    “There is no one,” he replied, and Victoria thought his voice a trifle grim. She wondered about