Wedded in Sin Read Online Free PDF Page B

and sale of property all require a solicitor, and they can be as criminal as a bloody burglar. They just do it on paper. But one has to admire the cheek. He hears your father’s dead, draws up the documents declaring himself the trustee, and then sells your property right out from under you. And if you were to complain—”
    “Of course I’m going to complain!”
    “Well, when you complain, you’re a woman alone and a distraught one at that. Probably won’t even admit you to his office. Then what would you do?”
    She lifted her chin, a blaze of fury flashing in her eyes. “I’d go to Helaine, is what I’d do,” she said firmly.
    “Ah, but Mrs. Mortimer is now Lady Redhill and on her honeymoon. Not much help to you there, is she?”
    He watched the lady glare at him, her agile mind realizing that she would either have to wait out Lady Redhill’s honeymoon or be grateful for his help. He wondered how long it would take her to ask him for it.
    “I could hire my own solicitor,” she said. “One who will open his door to me.”
    “You could, but that will take time and, I suspect, money that you do not have. And even then the man would not have my skills—”
    She snorted at that because, of course, she had no idea how very extensive his skills were.
    “Or my connections.”
    He let that hang in the air between them. She had no true idea who he was. Certainly she guessed that he was a hanger-on in society, a jester invited because he was entertaining. But that also meant that he had friends. A few at least, who would stand him in good stead provided that he did not tax them too much.
    Meanwhile, she came to her decision. “Very well,” she said. “I will hire you on my behalf. You’ll get ten quid when I move back into my home all free and clear. Fifteen if you put that bastard solicitor in jail.”
    He raised his eyebrows, startled once again. “I had not asked for payment.”
    “I detest favors, Mr. Morrison. Nobs never stop collecting them, and men always want something I won’t give. We’ll be writing down our arrangement on paper. I’ll be paying you for your time, and if you treat me badly and get nothing done, then you’ll be the one paying me. Same amount.”
    “Ten quid if I can’t get you back into your home?”
    “And fifteen if you can’t put the bastard in jail.”
    “So this is more of a wager, then. With you betting that I cannot do what I promise.”
    She shrugged. “Nobs like wagers, treat them more fairly than they do their honest workmen.”
    “Or workwomen.”
    She nodded, but refused to be distracted. “As you’re a nob and a daft one at that, I should like the wager written down. Doesn’t have to be public, unless you don’t pay when you fail.”
    He rocked back on his heels, surprised for the third time that day. She had neatly created a win-win situation for herself. If he succeeded in everything he planned, then she would have her life restored to her. If he failed, then she would have fifteen quid to help pay her bills. And she had found the one thing that would keep him interested beyond the usual attention of his very fickle brain: a wager. Not on a turn of a card, but on logic and action.
    “You are a remarkable woman, Miss Shoemaker.”
    “Do we have a deal?”
    “We do. And now, truly, you must tell me everything you know about your parents’ murder.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he raised his hand to stop her. “You have hired me, Miss Shoemaker, or bet me. Either way, you must allow me to work as I will. And that includes revealing every terrible detail of a painful crime. I am sorry, but I really must insist.”
    She closed her mouth and eyed him with exasperation. But she didn’t say anything.
    “Miss Shoemaker?”
    “I’ll be happy to tell you, Mr. Morrison, but not in front for your jilted lover.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Instead of answering, she gestured vaguely to the area behind him. He spun around, nearly splitting open her bag