Free Strangers at Dawn by Elizabeth Thornton

must be stupid, but what is there in this advertisement to attract such interest? It says very little.”
    Sara picked up the silver teapot and refilled Miss Beattie’s cup, then her own. A small, cynical smile touched her lips. “That’s where you’re wrong, Bea. It says plenty if you read between the lines. Shall I translate for you?”
    Miss Beattie nodded. “Please do.”
    “A young woman with a fat bank balance, who doesn’t want anyone asking awkward questions about her past, is willing to pay handsomely for the privilege of marrying some impoverished, trustworthy gentleman who will have the grace to make himself scarce as soon as the marriage certificate is signed.”
    “What!” Miss Beattie choked on a mouthful of tea. She cleared her throat. “You’re making that up.”
    “Oh, no, I’m not. Read it again, Bea. It’s all there, though, of course, I’ve used pretty words to dress it up. We mustn’t shock the finer feelings of the gentlemen, must we?”
    Miss Beattie read the advertisement again and groaned. “You see what this means? You’ll have an army of fortune-hunters and … and shady, disreputable characters beating a path to your door.”
    “A shady lady cannot be too fussy,” declared Sara.
    “Sara! Don’t talk like that. This is serious.”
    The smile in Sara’s eyes faded a little. “I was only joking, Bea.” She didn’t add what she was thinking, that many a jest was spoken in earnest. Bea was prejudiced in her favor and wouldn’t hear a word against her, not even when it came from her own mouth.
    Sara said, “Anyway, no one will beat a path to my door. I’m not that stupid. I’m not going to reveal who I am, not yet. What we’re going to do, Bea, is go through all these letters and choose three or four suitable candidates. Then I’ll find a way to meet each gentleman casually. When I’m sure I have the right man for me, then and only then will I tell him that I’m the lady who placed the advertisement in the Chronicle.”
    Miss Beattie thought about this for a moment or two. She looked at Sara. “You make it sound so easy, but have you considered that this could be dangerous?”
    “Nonsense. It’s done all the time. If it was dangerous, no one would advertise for a husband or wife in the newspapers, would they?”
    “But …” Miss Beattie stopped, knowing that she’d already put forward every argument to persuade Sara to give up the scheme.
    “What?” asked Sara.
    Though she knew her words would fall on deaf ears and she’d said it all before, Miss Beattie couldn’t hold back the words. “This is a drastic step you’re taking. What if you change your mind next year, or the year after that, or ten years from now? What if you meet the perfect man for you?”
    “The perfect man for me,” said Sara dryly, “is the one who will make himself scarce right after he has signed the marriage register. Now, let’s clear the table and get down to business.”
    They divided the letters into two piles and began to go through them. Miss Beattie took her time. Sara scannedeach one quickly and more often than not tore it to shreds and tossed it aside.
    Miss Beattie made a hissing sound.
    “What?” asked Sara.
    “The nerve of the man! He wants to know how much you’re willing to pay for the privilege of acquiring his name.” She was about to tear up the letter, but Sara plucked it out of her hand.
    “Bea! This is just the kind of man I’m looking for.” She quickly read the letter and set it to one side. “I know, I know. Major Haig sounds mercenary, and not very gentlemanly. But that’s all to the good, don’t you see?”
    “No, I don’t see,” replied Miss Beattie crossly. “If you’re determined to marry and break the trust, why not find a man who can make you happy?”
    “Because the man who could make me happy would be too intelligent to marry a suspected murderess.”
    “But you were cleared at the trial.”
    “Was I? Then why are we living like