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

satin-and-lace evening gown locked her knees. “I’m fine.”
    â€œHumph. Then I’ll fetch my knitting, finish this sweater for my grandnephew. You might want to be careful what you eat.”
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    â€œAh, Miss Pickford. You’re a vision to behold,” Mr. Fane declared upon meeting her and Mr. Simpson at the entrance to the Casino’s dining room. He himself looked very much the wealthy gentleman in his black evening suit and blinding white waistcoat. “Quite a dramatic change from the intrepid angler who reeled in a shoe.” Mischievous brown eyes twinkled; to avoid looking at him Thea glanced around the crowded dining room.
    â€œI’ve ordered us filet of sole for the entrée,” he continued easily, a secret laugh embedded in the words. “I hope you approve.”
    Thea finally managed to tear her awestruck gaze away from the rows of stained glass ceiling panels, and the equally glittering rows of tables full of guests, all of them staring at Thea and Edgar Fane. Either win him now, or justice will be denied forever. She squared her shoulders, lifted a hand to lightly brush her grandmother’s cameo brooch, a steadying touch to bolster her resolve. “I trust all the laces have been removed from my catch so they don’t get caught between our teeth,” she replied.
    Mr. Fane threw back his head and laughed out loud. “I think I’m going to like you very much, Miss Pickford. Who knows? You might turn out to be the catch of the day.”
    â€œMr. Fane, I might say the same about you.”
    He laughed again, then led her between rows of circular tables to the back of the room, where a party of ten—six ladies, four gentlemen—watched their approach with theintensity of a pack of jackals about to tear into the carcass. “I’ve asked some friends to join us,” Mr. Fane explained. “Less…intimate, and safer for you at this stage of our acquaintance.” With a flourishing bow he pulled out one of the empty chairs. A folded card with “Miss Pickford” written in formal script sent an oily shiver down Thea’s spine. He gestured to the woman seated beside her place.
    â€œThis is a very dear friend, Mrs. Cynthia Gorman.” As Thea gingerly sat down he leaned close enough for his breath to stir the fine hairs on the back of her neck. “If she takes a liking to you, you’ll be able to learn anything about me good manners prohibit you from asking.” He straightened. “Mrs. Gorman, Miss Theodora Pickford.” Thea angled her head toward Mrs. Gorman, away from Edgar Fane.
    â€œI asked Simpson to find out everything he could about you, ” Edgar next informed Thea without a shred of remorse. “I have to be careful, I’m afraid. Women can be fortune hunters, the same as men. Can’t they, Mrs. Gorman?”
    â€œAs you can see, Edgar loves to torment, and call it teasing,” Cynthia said. With her long narrow face, worldly green eyes and golden hair, she reminded Thea of a beautiful but restless lioness. “I understand your fiancé is a British earl. Lovely engagement ring—antique, is it? I adore jewelry. We can talk about your fiancé and jewelry if you like, Miss Pickford. Or the charms of a season at Saratoga. Edgar of course will want to confine the conversation to himself. But whatever you do, please refrain from asking about his paintings.”
    â€œPaintings? I’ve heard he enjoys working with oils and watercolors. Why wouldn’t I ask about them?” Thea returned, artfully lifting one eyebrow.
    â€œDearest Cynthia, is your nose still out of joint?” Edgarsat down on Thea’s other side, and without a word the waiters began to serve crystal compotes full of fresh peaches, strawberries and grapes. “She wanted my latest work of art, but I gave it to a lonely old gentleman who owns a couple of quaint old bookstores in Baltimore. He was