Read Online Bella and the Beast by Olivia Drake - Free Book Online

Miles and his father …
    At that moment, Bella Jones stepped out from behind the stone statue. A ray of sunlight made her blue eyes luminous and gilded a few golden strands in her otherwise mousy brown hair. As she took a deep breath, her bosom lifted, drawing his attention again to its shapeliness.
    â€œYou wished to know what happened to me next,” she said, her voice somber. “Last year, Papa died of a fever in Persia. I’d always kept busy as his assistant by transcribing his notes and organizing his papers. But after his death, I lacked the means to live on my own.”
    Surprise pricked Miles. “Your father left you nothing?”
    â€œVery little, I’m afraid. You see, we’d always managed to scrape by through selling a few small antiquities here and there, earning just enough to live on.” She bit her lip, glancing out the window before returning her gaze to him. “With Papa gone, that was no longer possible. The local officials wouldn’t allow a mere woman to engage in trade. And so, having nowhere else to go, I returned here to England in the hopes of securing employment. This is, after all, my birthplace.”
    â€œHave you no family to take you in?”
    â€œNone—either they are dead or they want nothing to do with a woman who grew up among foreigners. They’re strangers to me, anyway. I’d much prefer to earn my own way.”
    No wonder she’d carried a dagger for protection. But Miles didn’t want to think about her dire circumstances. Her life was no concern of his. All he cared about was information. “It was imprudent of Sir Seymour not to build a nest egg by selling more artifacts. There’s a fortune to be made in the antiquities market.”
    Her lips pursed at the criticism of her father, Bella Jones trailed her fingertips over the statue of Horus. It was the only hint of the fierce woman behind the spinsterish façade. “With all due respect, Your Grace, not everyone has the means to bring such relics as these back to England where they fetch higher sums. My father sold to dealers for much lesser amounts. He was quite happy to do so, for he preferred to study ancient civilizations, not profit from them. And…”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd knowing one of those dealers has been quite helpful to me.” She dipped her chin and gave him a wide-eyed look. “You see, upon my arrival in London, I went to visit a colleague of my father’s, an antiquarian whom we’d met overseas. Mr. Smithers mentioned that he’d recently made your acquaintance.”
    Miles felt an unpleasant jolt. A dark-haired man with weathered reddish features and flashy garb, Smithers had called here out of the blue three days ago and had talked Miles’s ear off before he’d finally ejected the fellow from the house. “You know that windbag? He visited me under false pretenses by claiming to have several rare Egyptian items for sale. Then he tried to sell me a box of commonplace scarabs.”
    â€œDid he? Perhaps he didn’t realize you’re a premier collector.” She tilted her head to one side. “I must confess, Mr. Smithers is the one who suggested that I come here to Aylwin House. He knew that Papa had once worked with your father many years ago. He also told me that you were interested in hiring a curator.”
    â€œBollocks,” Miles scoffed. “Forgive me, Miss Jones, but I’m afraid you have it all wrong. Smithers had the cheek to declare that I needed help. It was his idea, not mine.”
    She took a step closer, lacing her fingers together at her waist. “But surely there must be some truth to his observation, Your Grace. You’ve a great many artifacts, not just here in this room but elsewhere in the house, too. I saw them as I was—”
    â€œSneaking through the corridors?”
    â€œI had to speak to you, Your Grace,” she said firmly. “I