The Forbidden Lady (11 page)

William frowned. “Does Miss Higgenbottom not care for the man?”

“No, she doesn’t, but her mother is determined that she marry a man who will take her to England.”

“Oh.” William shifted uneasily in his chair. “I was wondering how you would feel about living in England.”

Virginia swallowed hard. Was this man that serious about her? Dropping her fan in her lap, she rubbed her temple where the throb was quickening its pace. “I . . . I’ve never given the notion any thought.”

“Please do.”

The music started with a great pounding of drums that reverberated through her head. When the music finally ended, the pounding in her head continued with a life of its own. In the midst of the applause, she spotted Quincy Stanton headed for the door.

She rose from her chair. “I need to step outside for a moment.”

“Allow me to escort you.” William jumped to his feet. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

Outside, she spied Quin rounding the corner of Concert Hall, but she didn’t dare follow him with William shadowing her. If her suspicions were correct, Quin was involved in some sort of activity that must remain a secret from the British authorities.

“Perhaps we should go to the side of the Hall,” William said. “ ’Tis a bit muddy here in front.”

“Oh, no, this is fine.” She patted William’s arm, determined to keep him away from Quin. “Is that not the major who fainted at the Higgenbottoms’ ball?” She motioned to the portly man crossing the street with a group of British officers.

William introduced her to them. She curtsied to each one, exchanging pleasantries to keep them distracted so Quin would have time to do whatever he was doing in secret.

The major weaved toward her, ogling her low neckline with his bloodshot eyes. “I remember you. I never forget a br—I mean, a face.”

She stepped back, opening her fan to cover her bosom. “I remember you, too.” A sharp twinge shot through her temple. Her headache was worsening.

The major lurched toward her, his frizzled wig listing to the side. “I’ve been looking for you, my gel. Been alone for much too long, don’t you know.”

“I’m not surprised.” She retreated, peering over her shoulder. She was on the edge of a low spot in the road where horses and carriages had churned up a slippery quagmire of mud and manure.

When the major lurched toward her again, she simply stepped to the side and watched the major sprawl into the filth.

“Oh, dear. William?” She looked helplessly at the captain.

He paused in the middle of his conversation with another captain and offered a hand to the major to help him up. The major was almost erect, when his feet skidded in the mud, knocking into William’s boots and causing him to lose his balance. William yelped, reached out for the other captain, and all three men toppled with a tremendous splash, splattering mud and filth all over Virginia’s face and green silk dress.

“Aagh!” She wiped her face. “This is horrid! And I repaired my gown just yesterday.”

“Virginia, I’m so sorry.” William scrambled to his feet, his scarlet uniform coated with foul-smelling mud.

The people exiting Concert Hall stopped to point and snicker. She turned her back to them, but discovered another audience enjoying the show on the far side of the street.

“I’ve never been so embarrassed.” And she had done this to protect Quin and his secret activities.

William held her shoulders lightly with his soiled hands. “Let me take you home.”

“W
hat news of my ship?” Quin questioned his uncle. He had arranged to meet Edward briefly after the concert.

“The Forbidden Lady
was returning when
The Sentinel
confiscated half our goods,” Edward said. “That damned customs schooner has gone too far.”

Quin ground his teeth. While he was occupied spying and entertaining his obnoxious brother, his business was suffering. “What excuse do the British have for doing this? We’ve done nothing illegal.”

“They don’t bother with excuses. They do whatever the hell they like. Last week, they came ashore and cut down half of Pitman’s orchard, just for firewood.”

“Aye, I heard about that. Have you lodged a complaint with the customs office to get our goods back?”

Edward nodded. “Aye, for all the good it will do. We cannot afford to take many more losses like this one.”

Quin lowered his voice. “Johnson and I are cooking up a little surprise for
The Sentinel
. In the meantime, proceed with business as usual.”

“What are you up to, Quin?”

“I don’t have time to go into it now. Any other news?”

“No, other than my meeting with Mary Dover a few days ago. She asked me to convince you to spare her niece from a hanging.”

Quin smiled. “I could never hurt her. Besides, it is all settled. Virginia has her hands full teaching a rascally boy named Josiah. I can assure you the female spy ring has come to an end.”

“Thank God. I was worried about them.”

Quin nodded, also relieved that Virginia would be behaving herself from now on. “I have to go. We’ll talk again soon.”

Quin strode to the front of Concert Hall and stopped short. He blinked, hoping his eyes were in error. She was not behaving herself.

Virginia stood with Captain Breakwell by a patch of muck in the road, the two of them splattered with mud, while two more filthy officers heaved themselves to their feet. Why the hell did that damned captain have his hands on her?

Quin clenched his fists, ready to plant one of them in Breakwell’s face. “What a touching sight.”

Virginia looked his way and paled. She jumped back from the captain, but her foot slipped in the mud. The captain grabbed her and pulled her against him.

Quin charged toward them. “Get your hands off of her!”

Breakwell glared back.

“Please!” Virginia turned to face Quin.

A scream came from behind them, piercing the air.

Mrs. Higgenbottom barreled out of Concert Hall, screeching at the top of her well-sized lungs and knocking people out of the way as she made a wide lane through them. “I’ve been robbed! My ruby ring. It was on my finger.” She held up a gloved hand. “It was there, and now, it is gone!”

Priscilla ran up to the muddy soldiers. “It must have happened when someone was kissing her hand. She’s so distraught. Can you help us, Captain Breakwell?”

The captain released Virginia. “Aye, of course. Will you be all right, Virginia?”

“Yes, I will.”

Breakwell and Priscilla rushed off.

“I thought he’d never leave.” Quin nabbed Virginia by the elbow to lead her off. To his surprise, she jerked her arm away from him.

“I’m going home with my aunt and sister. Good day.”

Quin stared at her as she marched away. She was mad at him? “We need to talk, Virginia.”

She didn’t answer.

He stalked after her. “We have an understanding.”

“Oh?” She pivoted, putting her hands on her hips. “Which understanding was that, pray tell? The one last Saturday when you promised to see me again soon?”

“I meant that. I intended to see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, and where have you been the past week? With your tailor?”

“Dammit, I was busy.” He could hardly explain they had transported the submersible to the harbor and run practice tests. And why was Ginny acting like a shrew? “I sent you flowers.”

“I don’t want flowers. I want—” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “There’s my aunt. I must go.”

He pulled her into his arms. “What do you want?”

A tear rolled down her grimy cheek. “I wanted to see you.”

“Ginny.” He brushed away the tear. “I wanted to see you, too. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I cannot say.”

She shoved him away. “You’ll soil your pretty clothes.”

He snatched her back. “I don’t give a damn about the clothes.”

“
Oh là là.
” The younger sister grinned. “ ’Tis rather warm for an October night.”

“That’s enough, Caroline,” Mary Dover said. “We should give them a little privacy.”

The two ladies wandered off a short distance, Caroline’s remark drifting back. “Better not give them too much privacy.”

Quin released her and spoke softly, aware now of the people around them, watching. “Is this your latest technique? Do the British spill their secrets when you wallow in the mud with them?”

“Don’t you dare fuss at me, Quincy Stanton. You’re the one with secrets, and this was all your fault.”

He snorted.

“I mean it. I saw you go to the side of Concert Hall for one of your mysterious meetings and—”

“Wait.” He held up a hand to interrupt her. “I told you to stop spying on me.”

“You should be glad I did. I stopped those officers from coming around the side and seeing you.”

“I don’t need your help, Virginia.”

She glowered at him. “I humiliated myself in public to keep you safe, and not only are you not grateful, you refuse tell me what you’re doing. I don’t even know why you have a hidden knife in your walking stick.”

She wiped her eyes as the tears spilled over. “You still dress like a dandy and flirt with every woman in sight. You fuss if any man gives me attention, but there’s always a pack of women all over you. I don’t see why I should do anything you ask.” She dashed away to her aunt and sister.

He watched them walking away. She had discovered the knife in his walking stick? Thank God she had not impaled her foot with it.

“I say, Quincy, shall we go to a tavern?” Clarence sauntered up. “You know, you really should start a decent men’s club here.”

“There are clubs. I belong to a few.” Quin watched Virginia disappear around a corner.

“Yes, I know, the Freemasons and that captains’ club you belong to.”

“The Marine Society.”

“Mmm, dreadfully boring.” Clarence opened his silver snuffbox engraved with the Dearlington crest. “I meant a club for drinking and gambling. I say, having a bit of lady trouble, old boy?”

“ ’Tis none of your business.”

Clarence helped himself to a sniff, then sneezed into a lacy handkerchief. “Perhaps she found out about that other woman of yours in Cambridge.”

Quin gritted his teeth. He’d used the imaginary mistress to excuse his absence most of the week. “Have you been talking about me again?”

“
Moi?
Why should I find it odd that you keep two women? ’Tis a family custom, old boy.” Clarence gave him a wry smile. “Like father, like son, don’t you know.”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

Monday, October 30, 1769

J
osiah arrived in the morning, a basket of oranges in hand, and his freshly scrubbed face scrunched into a menacing glare.

He stalked into the parlor and dropped the basket on the table with a thud. “These be for you. The master said ye not be wanting no flowers. He be in a foul mood for days, growling at everybody.”

“Oh, dear.” Virginia kept her face serious, even though she felt like smiling.

Josiah raised his skinny arms in exasperation. “What did ye do to him, Miss Munro?”

“Nothing.” She shoved the basket of oranges to the side and placed paper, quill, and inkwell in front of the boy.

Josiah collapsed in his chair. “That’s what he said. I asked him what ye’d done. He said nuthin’.” He pulled a letter out of his pocket. “This here be for you.”

“Oh.” Her heartbeat quickened as she turned the note from Quin over in her hands. “While I read this, why don’t you try writing a letter? ’Twould be good practice for you.”

“I ain’t got nobody to write to.”

Breaking the seal on the letter, she strolled over to the window for more light. “You can write to me.”

“Well, ain’t that a blockheaded thing to do? Ye’re right here in the room. I could just talk to you.”

“Sometimes, you can say things in a letter that you would hesitate to say in person. Try it.”

“Oh, all right.” Josiah proceeded to write, sticking out his tongue to the side of his mouth as he concentrated.

She quickly read Quin’s letter.

Dear Ginny,

My deepest apologies. I assure you that my reluctance to confide in you is not grounded in a lack of trust, but rather in my fear for your safety. I look forward to the day when I can share my thoughts with you. As for now, I ask for your patience.

Q

She folded the note carefully, savoring the moment. He
must
care for her if he feared for her. She wandered over to the basket of oranges and held one up to her nose. The cool, pebbly peel smelled sweet and tangy. He must have paid dearly for these.

Josiah was still laboring away when she sat across from him to write a letter to Quin. She started twice, changed her mind, and tore the papers in two. Her final letter was impersonal and to the point. She stated that Josiah’s lessons were progressing well, but he needed a series of immediate, small rewards and an interesting book to read.

“Here.” Josiah shoved his finished letter across the table. “Can I have a piece of pie now?”

“No pie today, but I can give you a piece of Queen’s Cake.”

The boy chewed his lip, frowning. “Did ye make it yerself, Miss Munro?”

“I . . . helped.” Her cheeks felt warm as she rose to her feet and left the room. Her first attempts at baking had not been entirely successful. She returned with a piece of cake and settled on the settee to read Josiah’s letter while he ate.

Dear Miss Munro,

Ye look real purty today. Me Master thinks yer purty. I think ye should be nice to him cuz he likes you so much. I want him to be happy cuz he is nice to me, not like that scurvy retch Samule. I hate Samule. He hits me when no one is looking. He eats like a Pig. He locked me up in the privy so I would be late and the Master be mad at me. He is mad cuz the Master likes me best. He gives me fancy clothes and takes me to fancy Parties and sends me to you for schooling. I like working for Mister Stanton. He is nice to me. Please be nice to him, Miss Munro.

Josiah

“Who is this Samuel?” Virginia asked.

“He’s Mrs. Millstead’s son.” Josiah shoveled in another big bite of cake and talked with his mouth full. “She’s the cook. She likes Clarence, cuz he be an earl. She calls me master a bastard when he’s not around.”

“That’s terrible. Mr. Stanton should dismiss her.”

Josiah shrugged. “He hopes he won’t be living there much longer. He don’t like the big house and all the servants.”

“And he doesn’t like the fancy clothes?”

Josiah shook his head. “He likes to be captain of his own ship and sail the seas, killing pirates and sea monsters!”

“Indeed? Is that what he said?”

“Well, not exactly, but he does have his own ship, and he said I could sail with him.” Josiah pulled out a crumpled sheet of newspaper from his pocket. “He asked me to buy this on the way home, but I bought it on the way here. I’d rather read this than that
Tommy Thumb’s Little Story-Book.
That thing is for babies.”

Virginia smiled and patted the space beside her on the settee. “An excellent idea. Is there anything interesting in the paper?”

“Aye.” He snuggled up close to her. “There’s a story here about the Boston Burglar. That’s what they’re calling the man what’s stealing jewelry from the ladies.”

“Do they have any idea who he is?”

“No, the bugger must be good.”

M
rs. Higgenbottom’s ruby ring had brought him a tidy sum. Satisfied, the man pocketed the money and stepped out of the dimly lit establishment into a narrow street close to the waterfront. These stupid Colonials never suspected him. By the time he returned to England, he would be a wealthy man.

J
osiah returned the next day with news. The British customs schooner had seized a merchant’s sloop. Josiah had delivered Quincy’s letter of protest to the customs house before going to his lessons.

“Why did the British take the man’s ship?” Virginia asked.

“They say he was smuggling.” Josiah took his usual seat at the mahogany table. “Me master says they’re greedy leeches plaguing the hard-working man.”

“Indeed.” She pondered this latest indication that Quincy was not the Loyalist he went to great expense to portray.

“Me master said he’ll fix them good.”

“What do you mean?” She sat across from the boy.

He squirmed in his chair, chewing his lip. “I dunno. He didn’t tell me.”

“You know some of the things he does because you help him. I saw you with him in the gardens behind the Oldhams’ house. He had a strange object in his hand that glowed in the dark.”

Josiah scowled at the table. “I ain’t supposed to tell nobody, not even you.”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “Did Mr. Stanton say that?”

“Aye.” The boy peered up at her. “Ye ain’t mad at me?”

“No. Let’s start with ciphering. I wrote some problems for you.” She passed him a sheet of paper. He hunched over the problems, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth.

Rising to her feet, Virginia picked up the cloth she was using to dust the furniture and knickknacks in the parlor. Quin trusted Josiah, a nine-year-old, but not her. She wiped the mantelpiece and the Oriental vase centered in front of the gilded mirror. The wilted flowers from Quincy needed to be thrown out.

He warned Josiah not to tell her anything
. Over the past week, she had given a great deal of thought to Quincy’s mysterious behavior. If he so easily suspected her of spying, then he could be engaged in the same activity. It would explain his secretive behavior and animosity toward the redcoats. It could also explain his possession of a walking stick with a hidden blade and an object that glowed in the dark. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became.

Quincy Stanton must be a spy.

A knock at the front door interrupted her thoughts. A youth at the door handed her a package.

“What is this?” she asked.

“I work at the bookseller’s shop on Hanover Street,” the boy explained. “Mr. Stanton ordered these yesterday. Said to deliver them here. Good day, miss.” He scampered down the steps and around the corner.

Virginia reminded the curious Josiah to complete his work as she opened the package on the round table. She smiled at Quin’s choices: Swift’s
Gulliver’s Travels
and Defoe’s
Robinson Crusoe
. Josiah would not have to endure a stuffy discourse on man’s role in the universe or the origin of mathematics. The last book was a surprise. She opened it up to find a note, written by Quin.

This one is for you, dear Ginny. Enjoy.

Q

Quin had given her a book titled
Love in Excess
by a woman author, Eliza Haywood. Virginia grinned. This must be the sort of book the reverend back home preached against—the sort of book that destroyed a God-fearing woman, corrupted her moral standards, making her prey to wicked passions, and causing her to neglect her housekeeping chores. After the preacher’s ferocious sermon denouncing the evil books penned by women scribblers, the women of the community had searched desperately for a copy, but none were to be found.

Now, she had one.

She couldn’t wait to read it.

“Me master made ye happy, Miss Munro?” Josiah peered up at her with wide blue eyes.

“Yes, he did, and I believe you’ll like your books, too.”

“Can I start one now? I finished me ciphering.”

“Good. Let’s sit on the settee together, and I’ll help you.”

Long after Josiah had left, she remained in the parlor, reading the book Quin had given her. She thought ruefully that the reverend might have a point. She had no interest in doing any chores today. With a shrug, she smiled and continued reading.

Sometime in the afternoon, Aunt Mary burst into the parlor with a wide grin and flushed cheeks. “I have wonderful news!”

“What is it?”

“I’ve just returned from seeing my manager of Dover Mercantile. Our latest venture with Stanton Shipping was very successful. Edward Stanton, himself, dropped by with the good news. He has deposited the note in my bank.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you.”

Mary shrugged. “My manager does all the work. I only stop by every week to take a peek at the books. I think we should celebrate. How about new gowns for each of us?”

Virginia winced. “ ’Tis far too expensive. You’ve spent enough on us.”

“I insist. Besides, that poor green gown of yours has taken a beating lately. We’ll find Caroline and be on our way.”

Friday, November 3, 1769

A
fter completing his schoolwork, Josiah settled on the settee next to Virginia to read another chapter from
Robinson Crusoe
. She smiled as she heard his young voice stumble over a word. Although he would never admit it, Josiah was very eager to please. His reading had improved to the point that he rarely needed her help.

She reached down to a basket on the floor to retrieve her knitting. Since the boy walked to her house Monday through Friday, she intended to keep him warm in the increasingly cold temperatures with a new hat and mittens. The blue yarn she had selected reminded her of his eyes.

She gave him a glance when he stopped reading.

His brow puckered with a frown. “I thought ye wanted to listen to me read.”

“I am listening.” She continued to knit.

“No, ye’re not. Ye’re using those clickety sticks.”

“I’m knitting
and
listening, Josiah. I’ve been knitting since I was four years old. I could do it in my sleep. Go on.”

His frown deepened, but he turned back to his book. He started reading in sporadic bursts, occasionally glaring at her hands.

She lowered her handwork to her lap. “I’m sorry if it disturbs you. I was not raised to be idle.”

“It don’t bother me none.” He started reading again. After a few sentences he stopped, his eyes focused on the book in his lap.

She had leaned closer to see if he was stuck on a difficult word, when a large tear fell onto the page. He slammed the book shut and dropped it on the floor.

She stuffed her knitting in the basket. “Josiah, what’s wrong?”

Wiping his face, he turned away from her. “Nuthin’. Ain’t nuthin’.”

She touched his shoulder. “It is something. Can you not tell me?”

He swung around and dove into her lap, wrapping his skinny arms around her waist. His tears spilled out, sobs shaking his bony shoulders, his cries filled with raw pain.

She held on to him. “Josiah? Dear boy, what is troubling you?”

His words came out, smothered and broken against her skirt. “Me mum . . . I miss me mum . . . I wish I had me mother back.”

“Oh, dear Lord, of course you do.” It occurred to her now that she had never heard him speak of his mother before. “ ’Tis only natural to grieve for her, lad. You must miss her sorely.”

“She told me not to cry for her. She said I had to be brave. I tried . . . I truly tried.”

“Oh, Josiah.” Virginia brushed back his hair that had tumbled loose from its tie. “You are brave. I’ve never known a boy as fierce as you.”

“Really?” Turning his tear-streaked face toward her, he wiped his cheeks. “Ye’ll not tell me master I cried like a baby?”

“A few tears are nothing to be ashamed of.”

He sniffed. “Me mum used to knit at night by the fire. I always fell to sleep with that sound in me ears.”

“I see.”

“After me father left, she did laundry and sewing and knitting for people, so we would have money. But ’twas not enough. I was always hungry. So, I took to stealing. Me mum didn’t like it none.”

“I’m sure she was worried about your safety.”

“She thought I would have a better life here. She was always giving me part of her food on the ship, cuz I’m always so bloody hungry, but she . . . she took sick and. . . .” Covering his face with his hands, he sobbed again. “I shouldn’t have taken her food.”

Blinking back tears, Virginia lifted him and hugged him tight. “ ’Tis not your fault, Josiah. They never give enough food.” She rocked him like a baby ’til his shoulders stopped trembling and his whimpers faded away.

His voice sounded old and weary. “I wish me master were me father.”

“Quincy?”

“Aye, he would never leave us like me real father. I told him me father didn’t want me and he said he understood.” Josiah yawned and closed his red, swollen eyes. “His father don’t want him neither.”

“His father rejected him?” Virginia glanced down at the boy in her arms. His body sagged against her, limp and worn out.