Free The Forbidden Lady by Kerrelyn Sparks

quite by accident that we learned of this, I assure you.”
    He stared at her, uncertain what to believe, while he waited for his heart to regain a steady rhythm.
    “We plan to attend more functions in the future, so I would appreciate it if you could stop by from time to time, just in case we accidentally hear anything else.”
    He leapt to his feet. “Dammit, woman, you’re behaving like a spy!”
    R eturning from the market, Virginia stepped into the kitchen, followed by George, who hefted his full baskets onto the long trestle table.
    The cook, Mrs. Robertson, unloaded the first basket. “Help yerself to the scones. They’re fresh from the oven.”
    George stuffed a scone in his mouth and dropped three more onto a wooden trencher.
    “We’re making apple pies.” Caroline smiled with triumph as she finished paring an apple with one long, unbroken spiral. “Don’t they smell wonderful?”
    “Yes.” Virginia sat across from her sister and picked up a knife and an apple. “Where is Aunt Mary? I thought she wanted to teach us her receipt for apple cider.”
    Caroline sliced her apple into a waiting piecrust. “She’s in the parlor with a man.”
    Virginia winced as her knife slipped. “A man came to see Aunt Mary?”
    Caroline’s emerald eyes twinkled. “A very handsome man, and she insisted on being alone with him.”
    The apple popped from Virginia’s grasp and bounced across the table onto the piecrust Mrs. Robertson was rolling out.
    “Sorry.” Virginia grabbed the apple and set it on the table in front of her. The poor thing looked like it had been pared with a crochet hook. She poised her knife over the apple, ready to slice. “Who is this man?”
    George wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “ ’Tis Mr. Stanton.”
    “ What ?” Virginia pressed her knife down with a jerk. The apple skittered across the table, dropped onto the wooden floor and rolled away. She jumped to her feet to follow its trail.
    “Good Lord, lass.” Mrs. Robertson frowned at her.
    Virginia groaned inwardly. A five-year-old would be more capable. She gave her sister a warning look. Don’t tell them, please. But if she continued to do this poorly, it would be all too evident. She had avoided kitchen chores all her life because of her fear of the fire in the kitchen hearth.
    Caroline grinned at her. “Mr. Stanton? You mean the man who wanted to—”
    “You needn’t say it, Caroline.” Virginia poured water over her runaway apple to wash it off. “How do you know ’tis Mr. Stanton, George?”
    “Mrs. Dover sent me to his house this morning to ask him to come here.”
    “Oh, it must be Edward Stanton.” Saturday night, at the Higgenbottoms’ ball, Virginia had relayed her information to her aunt. Mary’s disappearance had been nothing more than a trip to the necessary room. Now, Aunt Mary must be passing on the information. “Has anyone served them refreshments?”
    “I took in a tray of pine-needle tea.” Caroline titled her head, considering. “I wonder if he’s still alive.”
    George snickered.
    Mrs. Robertson snorted. “Ye doona have work to do, young man?”
    “Aye, Mrs. Robertson.” George trudged out the back door.
    “I’ll take them some scones and jam.” Virginia wiped her hands on a linen towel and readied a tray.
    She knocked softly on the parlor door but doubted they heard her. The voices on the other side reverberated with tension. A man’s voice suddenly shouted.
    She flung open the door. Aunt Mary and a gentleman faced each other in front of the fireplace.
    He was Edward Stanton, without a doubt. The family resemblance was undeniable. Startled, the man glanced her way and blinked.
    Virginia placed the tray on the round table, next to the tray of tea. “I’ve brought scones, freshly baked.” She took the plate of scones to Edward Stanton as he seated himself.
    “Thank you.” He grabbed a scone, which he dropped on the saucer next to a full cup of tea. “You are . . . ?”
    “Virginia