Secrets of a Scandalous Heiress by Theresa Romain Read Free Book Online Page B

was a man who hadn’t wanted to dance with her. Hadn’t wanted to become her lover. Hadn’t wanted to do anything but satisfy his mild curiosity about her false name, then continue on his merry way. Really, he could not have been much clearer about his lack of interest.
    Until he sent her a note last night, inviting her to meet him again. He might not have wanted to start the game, but for a short while at least, he seemed willing to play along.
    â€œWhat sort of mistake are we in danger of making?” he said carefully.
    Carefully, indeed. Because it was not a game at all, was it? She had no idea what was at stake for him, but it was certainly more than a job.
    â€œEveryone in Bath comes from somewhere else,” she replied. “We might do and say and be whatever we need to, free of London. If we’re fortunate, we’ll become what we want to. If we’re not…”
    â€œWe’ll be trapped. Again.” He pressed at his temples. “Yes. All right. Clearly you have something in mind, so please oblige me by telling me what that is. As long as it’s not some sort of hen-witted espionage caper.”
    Augusta sniffed. “I am never hen-witted. And I do not caper.”
    One of his eyebrows shot up.
    â€œ And ,” she added, “this is not a matter of espionage. It is a matter of business. I have made a list.” Tugging a folded slip of paper from the inner wrist of her glove, she handed it to him. “Last night, I thought of three men whom you might approach about the sale of coal lands. And if you wish instead to find and throttle your cousin’s blackmailer, I have listed the name of a man who can hunt that information.”
    â€œQuite an assortment.” His eyes flicked over the list.
    â€œThat last man I mentioned has only just arrived in Bath. I had the news from the boy who ran our messages back and forth,” she explained. “I had to pay him another half crown for the privilege of learning whom he had seen lodged in the Royal Crescent.”
    â€œA half crown? Highway robbery.”
    A half crown meant nothing to Augusta, whose reticule was full of coin, whose fortune grew monthly under the guardianship of doting trustees. So she only smiled and watched him read the names—once, twice, again—deciding.
    Deep in thought, he appeared much less English. He did not look sideways to see her reaction as he read, did not puff out his chest or square his shoulders to impress her as she waited. He lacked the beau monde ’s usual jittery joviality—or perhaps it would be better to say that he possessed a stillness entirely foreign to most men Augusta knew. His arched brows knit, and the crease between them carved his profile into something starker—a high forehead and high-bridged nose, full lips, and a stern chin.
    And smoky dark and sweet, the scent of sandalwood that made her want to draw closer, to tuck her head into the line of his shoulder and breathe in deeply. A longing caught her, so sudden and enticing that she had to step away lest her body betray her by swaying too close.
    No. He wasn’t the man she needed. She needed someone pliant and agreeable and ultimately disposable.
    He looked up from the paper. “I am impressed by this list, Augusta. How do you come to know of these men?”
    â€œI read the guest book and saw that they were in Bath. I’ve been avoiding them all week so they wouldn’t see me and call me by my real name.”
    Refolding the paper, he fixed her with a look. “That is not what I meant. How do you happen to be acquainted with them?”
    â€œOh. I’ve always known them.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her bonnet ribbon, fumbling for an explanation. “They are powerful men of business. And I’m Meredith Beauty, or all that’s left of it.”
    Dark eyes flicked over her figure; his mouth curved with humor. “It’s nice to meet a woman