Beauty and the Spy Read Online Free PDF

condolences from mourners, wishing she could summon tears, or a smile—but there was only this dull grief that cast a strange haze over her senses. Grief over the loss of a man who had never been anything but kind to her. And grief over the fact that she would now never truly know him.
    She doubted it was the sort of grief that a daughter ought to feel for a father, the kind that welled up out of a broken heart. And so mingling with the grief was guilt and, if she were being perfectly honest with herself, anger, too. She'd wanted to know him. She'd wanted to love him.
    He hadn't allowed it.
    "Miss Makepeace?" Mr. Dinwiddy's voice came to her.
    She swiveled back to him. "Penniless? But… I don't understand. How—that is to say—"
    "The goodwill of shopkeepers and merchants has enabled your father to purchase almost everything in this house—including your clothing—on credit for years now. The servants have been paid, but no other creditors have�and I will not be," he added ruefully. "Your father's properties and furnishings will be confiscated immediately to satisfy his debts. I suggest you vacate the premises as soon as possible."
    Penniless . The word throbbed in her head, and she couldn't get a proper breath. She stared almost unseeingly at Mr. Dinwiddy, and her mourning gown—beautifully cut and very dear, and apparently unpaid for—suddenly seemed sewn from lead.
    Somehow a fly had found its way into the library, and it was orbiting Mr. Dinwiddy's shiny head. Susannah watched, half-hypnotized.
    Mr. Dinwiddy's face was impassive. And then his head creaked to a tilt, and his expression became oddly… considering.
    "Have you any relatives who will take you in, Miss Makepeace? No others are mentioned in your father's will."
    "I don't… I'm not…" A strange ringing in her ears frightened her. Am I going to faint ? She had never before fainted in her life, though once or twice she'd feigned light-headedness at a ball in order to get a moment alone in a garden with Douglas. And because it clearly made Douglas feel manly.
    The fly decided to settle above Mr. Dinwiddy's right ear. Mr. Dinwiddy swiped a palm over his perspiring dome, disturbing it; it resignedly resumed its lazy circling. The solicitor cleared his throat. "Perhaps, Miss Makepeace, you and I can come to… an arrangement."
    "'Arrangement'?" Hope animated Susannah briefly. "Arrangement" seemed a better word than "penniless."
    "I have a home in London in which you may live in exchange for…" He paused. "Entertaining me… once or twice a week."
    Susannah frowned a little, puzzled.
    Mr. Dinwiddy waited, his eyes tiny and bright behind his spectacles.
    When the meaning of his words at last took hold, she leaped to her feet and backed away as though the solicitor had suddenly burst into flame.
    "You—how—how dare you!" she choked out. Her face burned.
    The solicitor shrugged. Shrugged !
    Susannah drew a long shuddering breath and drew herself up to her full height. "I assure you I will be well cared for, Mr. Dinwiddy. My fianc� is the son of Marquis Graydon. And once I tell him of your… your… suggestion , no doubt he will call you out."
    "Oh, no doubt." But the solicitor sounded more weary than sarcastic. And then he rose from his chair with a leisureliness that shook Susannah's confidence to the core. "Good day, Miss Makepeace. You may wish to keep my card"—he extended it; Susannah jerked her head away and balled her hands into fists, as though she feared one of them might betray her and reach for it—"in case you find your fianc6 other than… gallant."
    "But… but… Mama said you would understand, Susannah."
    Douglas stood before her, his fingers curled whitely into his hat, his face drawn with distress. And usually when Douglas showed any signs of distress, Susannah would comfort him, place a soothing palm against his cheek, perhaps, for that was the sort of thing fianc�s did for one another. But now—
    "Pardon us, miss! Step lively,