A Most Unusual Match by Sara Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page A

began gathering their equipment, likely intending to catch the last trolley.
    Suddenly Miss Pickford leaned down, scooped up the shoe and heaved both it and the fishing pole into the lake. Then she whirled and marched down the landing, passing within a dozen paces of the tree where Devlin waited, a silent, cynical witness to her performance. Eschewing the trolley, she set out walking along the edge of the road back to town.
    What kind of woman walked four miles when transportation was readily available? Certainly she’d hoped to secure a ride in Edgar Fane’s private omnibus, but with that hope dashed she had nothing to gain now but blisters.
    â€œShortsighted a bit, weren’t you?” Devlin commented aloud after she disappeared around a bend in the road. He climbed into the runabout. “Well, let’s see what kind of line you’ll try on me.”
    Ten minutes along the road, however, he still hadn’t overtaken her. The sky was deepening to twilight, the trolley long gone and only three other horse-drawn conveyances and several bicyclists had passed; serve him right if Miss Pickford had accepted a ride in someone else’s buggy. His report to headquarters would have to detail the account of how Operative Stone allowed both parties he’d been shadowing to slip through his fingers. Grimly he searched both sides of the road, slowing the horse to a plodding walk. Even so, in the gathering darkness he almost missed the flash of color behind a clump of bushes.
    â€œWhoa…” he murmured, and set the brake, his gaze riveted to the bushes. There, another glimpse of creamy yellow, the same shade as the overblouse Miss Pickford had been wearing.
    Then he heard a low moan.
    Â 
    Panting, Thea propped herself on her hands, but the motion triggered another bout of nausea; she retched, sides heaving, perspiration mingling with the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. Not since the night she’d visited Grandfather in that dreadful jail had she suffered from an attack this vicious. Stupid, stupid, stupid not to have realized what might happen if her little scheme to attract Edgar Fane worked.
    Or more precisely, didn’t work. The blackguard might have noticed her, but she hadn’t garnered sufficient interest for an invitation to return to the hotel with the rest of his more favored guests.
    Listen to yourself, Theodora. Her entire life now re flected the moral virtue of a…a vaudeville singer.
    Which punishment in Dante’s Inferno did she deserve, for becoming that which she most despised? The dizziness intensified, sucking her down, down into the depths. God would never forgive her, because she would never forgive herself.
    â€œWhat the—” a man’s voice exclaimed, and strong hands closed around her shoulders.
    â€œDon’t…” Thea managed before her stomach heaved again and she gagged.
    â€œEasy. Shh…don’t fight me, you’ll make it worse.”
    The deep, now-familiar voice soothed, but humiliation scorched rational thought. Better a party of drunken fishermen had stumbled upon her than this man. “Mr. Stone…” Thea managed in a hoarse whisper, “please leave me alone. I’ll…in a moment I’ll be fine. I just need…” The effort to converse overwhelmed her. She could only close her eyes and allow those competent hands to do whatever they pleased.
    A musky yet pleasant aroma drifted through her nostrilsas he gently eased her back down on the warm earth. Instead of scratchy meadow grasses her cheek was cushioned by some sort of fabric. She tried to lift her hand, but flashing lights stabbed behind her closed eyelids. “Can’t…please. Leave me alone.”
    â€œAll right,” Devlin Stone murmured. The air stirred vaguely, then stilled.
    So. He’d listened, and obeyed. Life, Thea decided in utter misery, once again proved she was a worthless cast-aside, an inferior