Free A Most Unusual Match by Sara Mitchell

most appreciative.”
    â€œSo appreciative he checked out of his room at the United States Hotel the next day,” a round-cheeked man with a spade-shaped beard chimed in. “Last I heard, he was planning to auction your landscape to the highest bidder, to avoid the bank foreclosing on his stores.”
    â€œWhat must he be thinking?” Edgar popped a strawberry in his mouth and chewed it with unselfconscious enthusiasm. “I’m no Rembrandt. But if someone’s foolish enough to spend their well-earned dollars on dabbling I give away for free, I’ll not put a crimp in their style.”
    Everyone laughed, and as the rhythm of the courses moved in watchlike precision from fruit to oysters on a bed of crushed ice, to a delicate clear soup, Thea’s nerves settled into quiet determination. Mrs. Gorman spent several moments deliberately prying, but when Thea remained charming but vague the other woman turned to the man seated on her right. Conversations swirled over and around them; Edgar Fane, she discovered reluctantly, made for a thoughtful, entertaining host. By the time the fish was served—and she laughed with everyone else when the waiter presented her with an exquisitely prepared filet of sole—Thea was almost enjoying herself. The vertigo remained in abeyance, and beneath the table her knees had finally quit shaking.
    But she had not forgotten her mission.
    Find a weakness. Find evidence. Expose Edgar Fane as a liar and a thief.
    â€œIs Saratoga Springs your favorite destination for thesummer season?” she asked Mr. Fane during a conversational lull.
    â€œCertainly has been a wise choice this year,” he replied, smiling at her. “When I heard the prim-mouthed do-gooders had failed in their attempts to keep the Casino closed, I decided to signal my support by spending the season here at Saratoga. I’ve rented a cottage a few blocks away. When not entertaining friends there, I invite them to superlative suppers here at the Casino, to help Mr. Canfield keep his coffers full.” Something in the way he studied Thea set warning bells to clanging. “A lot of my friends enjoy the game room upstairs. In fact, several acquaintances have won and lost considerable fortunes. You look disapproving. Tell me your opinion toward gambling, Miss Pickford. Is it a tool of evil, or the engine that keeps not only Canfield Casino but this little community from sinking into oblivion?”
    Thea took several sips of water, but her palms dampened inside the doeskin evening gloves. “I don’t care much for gambling away monies someone else has earned by the sweat of honest labor. If those men lose a fortune they earned with their own hands, that’s their choice. But men who gamble away food from the table or the roof over their children’s heads are dangerously irresponsible.”
    â€œMmm. A well-thought-out response. How about ladies, Miss Pickford? Are you aware that Mr. Canfield has altered the old restrictions and now allows ladies to indulge? Gave them their very own gambling room. There’s now a betting ring at the racetrack for them, as well. I believe Cynthia actually won herself a tidy bundle a few days ago.” Edgar picked up his wineglass and touched it to Thea’s as though to let her know he’d noticed she hadn’t taken a single sip.
    â€œSo you pass judgment on ladies, for gambling food from the table and the roof from over their children’s heads?”
    â€œI’d say either gender is equally vulnerable to the risk of gambling, Mr. Fane.”
    â€œYou snagged yourself one of those religious reformers, Fane!” Smirking, a needle-thin man with a monocle surveyed Thea. “Miss Pickford doubtless attends church every Sunday, praying for fire to rain down on the rest of us heathens.”
    â€œI don’t have the right to pass judgment on anybody.” Thea leveled the oaf a look that made him drop the