The Fashionable Spy Read Online Free PDF Page A

that even as she leaned back against the chair.
    “You are tired,” he said. “Your head is undoubtedly still aching a bit. Why not take a nap? When you awake, I shall challenge you to a game of cards. If we cannot do anything more interesting, it is best to keep occupied in something that is innocent.”
    She felt a blush heat her skin as she considered his teasing. More interesting, indeed. And how would he pass the time? Thoughts of kisses from that sensual mouth, of being held close to his tall lean frame, entered her mind, and she hastily turned from him, seeking the bed and the worn blanket with determination.
    She stumbled on her path across the room, and marked the agility with which he came to her rescue. Although he had brought a cane with him on his second trip, she suspected he used it only when necessary. She wondered when he had been wounded and how, then reminded herself that it was no business of hers. She had rejected his generous offer, made from a kindly motive. Surely he had nothing to lose. Society expected gentlemen to be more free in their behavior than women, who were truly circumscribed. But she had broken through that barrier with her work, and had no need for his protection. Protection. Ah, it was a lovely-sounding word, not to mention concept.
    Murmuring polite nothings, she settled down beneath the blanket, feeling oddly tired and a little woozy in her head. It was most likely the result of her accident, and she hoped the sleep would help to ease it.
    Edward watched as Victoria drifted off to a restorative sleep. Strangely enough, he was not surprised that she had rejected his well-meant offer of marriage. She seemed far more independent than most women he had met.
    What had prompted her to take up sculpturing? Then he recalled where he had seen her work. Victoria Dancy had already established herself at a young age as a premier artist, employed by a great many politicians to create their images. Edward had viewed one of her busts at the home of an acquaintance not too long ago. She was incredibly skilled at her craft, the likeness being a duplication, even offering an insight to the character, of the sitter.
    He turned to stare at the sleeping young woman. Why? Why did she primarily seek politicians to model? Rumor had it she was working on a life-size statue of the king. Not that there was anything wrong with that.
    A movement outside caught his eye, and he hurried to the door, quietly opening it while keeping the dog silent by holding its muzzle. He stepped out, remaining in the shelter of the small porch while he waited for his groom and Miss Dancy’s coachman to present their assessment of the damage to the coaches.
    “Miss Dancy is sleeping, the effects of the knock on her head, you know. What is it you have to report?” Then he noticed a cluster of men, horses, and a dray along the road. The Dancy vehicle was being hauled atop the low dray for transport. Two men stood by his own carriage, inspecting the damage to it.
    “Both the coaches are going in to Canterbury, sir,” Higgens replied. “Yours can be fixed in a day or two, at least well enough to proceed. Miss Dancy may well wish to consider traveling on by post chaise, for hers is in a sorry state.”
    “Aye,” Sam nodded. “She’ll not be best pleased about this. I expect her sisters will prefer a new coach to repairing this one, it’s that bad.”
    “Is money a problem? Has she enough to cover the costs involved?” Traveling was expensive, and to go by post chaise and pair was the most costly. He had no idea how well-off Lord Dancy might be, nor how well-paid Victoria was for her work. It seemed reasonable to him that if she modeled busts, and received payment for them, she did so because she had need of the money. Perhaps her scholarly parents had been improvident.
    “She is well enough fixed, I expect.” Sam gave Sir Edward a shrewd look, then added, “She’s an independent lass, and won’t take kindly to an offer