Dance of Seduction (16 page)

She stared at him, her trembling lower lip showing her confusion and uncertainty. He couldn’t blame her for not trusting him. Fences often maintained scores of pickpockets who stole goods for them.

“It’s impossible—” she began.

“Hear me out, Clara. You and I both know you can’t let him stay with you after he’s broken the rules.” He nodded down the street to the Home.

She followed his gaze, her shoulders slumping as she spotted the anxious children’s faces pressed to the windows and Mrs. Carter standing on the front steps with arms crossed.

“If you let him stay,” Morgan went on in a low voice, “it won’t be long before the others break the rules. Not to mention that it will get back to the magistrate. As you say, there are no secrets in Spitalfields. It’s one thing if you can show the authorities that it’s part of your policy to take him back, but if you can’t, if you make an exception, they’ll be suspicious of you from now on.”

She closed her eyes, as if to shut all of it out. “I-I’ll just have to prevail upon Lucy to take him in, that’s all.”

“I don’t
want
to live with my sister!” Johnny cried. “Let her keep her ‘prospects,’ whatever they are. She don’t want me there—she said so. And I don’t want her neither.”

Brave words from a boy who was clearly terrified about what might happen to him. Morgan went on relentlessly. “If you put him into my care, he won’t be in the streets. If his sister won’t let him stay with her, where else can he go?” He used the one thing he knew would sway her. “Unless you send him to the workhouse, of course.”

Clara’s eyes shot open. “The workhouse! No, he can’t go there.”

She glanced away, but not before he glimpsed her tears.
God, how he wanted to reach out and brush them away. But that would be foolish and probably unappreciated.

She turned her frustration on the boy. “A pox on you, Johnny! Why couldn’t you just do as you were told?”

“Because he’s too foolish to know a good thing when he has it,” Morgan said.

“Hey!” Johnny cried. “P’raps I don’t want to stay with you neither, Cap’n. Nobody’s asked me what
I
want.”

“And nobody’s going to,” Morgan said sharply. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll listen to your betters for once.”

Johnny blinked but wisely said nothing. Clara shot Morgan a considering glance, then sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t see how I can trust you not to use him for your own purposes.”

Wondering why he bothered to argue for something that did him no good, he turned to Johnny. “Tell Lady Clara about our conversation when I gave you the money. Tell her what conditions I put on it.”

Johnny’s gaze drifted warily between the two of them, but he answered. “The cap’n said he’d only give me the money if I promised not to return. And he said I was to tell the other boys they weren’t welcome in his shop.”

“There, you see?” Morgan turned back to Clara. “And if you’ll recall, I asked you to keep your charges away from my shop the day I met you.”

“Yes, because you were trying to lull me into trusting you.”

“Because I have no use for children. They don’t bring in enough money, and they can be trouble if they’re caught.”

Her gaze was steady on him now. “So you admit that you fence goods.”

His soggy head reeled from the effort of keeping up with her arguments. Damn, but the woman never let an idle comment pass. “I admit nothing. I’m merely saying I have no rea
son to buy from pickpockets. Which is why Johnny would be safe in my care.”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I simply cannot allow—”

“I want to stay with him.” Johnny glanced at Morgan, then squared his bony little shoulders. “I’d rather live with the cap’n than at the Home if it means I got a chance to earn a living.”

“Oh, Johnny, you mustn’t,” Clara protested. “If you stay with him, you can never return to us. And what about Timothy?”

Who the devil was Timothy?

Johnny’s face darkened. Then he stuck his lower lip out in a pout, as stubborn as ever. “Timothy don’t need me around. He’ll be fine with you. He likes it there.”

And I don’t
. Johnny might as well have spoken the words aloud, for Clara’s face showed betrayal once more. Morgan wanted to strangle the boy. Had the silly lad no idea of how lucky he’d been to have an angel of mercy like Clara looking out for him, willing to risk so much to make him a better life?

No, Johnny was too young to see it—he didn’t realize that people sometimes got only one chance to turn their lives around. The idiot was throwing his away with both hands.

Well, Morgan would give him another, no matter how unwise it might be. He owed it to Clara.

Clara cast a mute appeal to her aunt across the street, but Miss Stanbourne ignored her. The older woman seemed none too eager to involve herself. Murmuring reassurances to the agitated dogs, she sat with the table as a guard between her and the rest of them.

“I can do what I want,” Johnny went on. “And I want to work for the cap’n.”

“Then that settles it,” Morgan said smoothly before the
boy could say anything else to alarm Clara. “Johnny, go fetch your things from the Home. I need to speak to Lady Clara alone.”

With an eager nod, Johnny raced off down the street. Clara watched him go, her expression so painfully tormented that Morgan’s gut clenched into a knot. He’d never meant to hurt her, never meant to stand in the way of her kind heart. When this was done, he’d do all in his power to make it up to her—convince his brother to donate funds, make Ravenswood hire her boys, whatever would banish that look of desperation from her face.

She turned to him with her shoulders stubbornly set. “Must you draw him into our battle? He’s just a boy—”

“—on the threshold of becoming a man,” Morgan finished. “This is best for him, and you know it.”

She shook her head. “Having him serve as an apprentice thief is not best for him.”

“I won’t let him steal, I swear it.” He stepped closer to lay his hand on her arm. “I won’t let any harm come to him while he’s working for me.”

Snatching her arm away, she whirled to face him. “If you think I’ll simply stand by and watch while you corrupt him—”

“Let him go, Clara. He’s old enough to make his own choices.” He hated having her despise him so much. Even if initially he’d tried to make her do so. “You may come to the shop whenever you wish to check on him. And me.”

“Don’t worry.” She drew herself up straight. “I intend to plant myself outside your establishment for as many days as it takes to run you off.”

Gritting his teeth, he glanced over to Miss Stanbourne and their pitiful table. He didn’t need this kind of trouble. “You don’t have the time to sit out here monitoring my movements, and you know it. You have the Home to run. And an
noying me will do you no good, in any case. You can’t stay here day and night, and I’ll simply do my business whenever you’re gone.”

“Then my aunt and I—”

“From the looks of her, your aunt can’t wait to be away from here. And do you really think you and she and the dogs could stay long enough to make a difference?”

Her chin trembled, making him ache to step forward and kiss her hurts away. Stubbornness was bred in the woman’s bones. Yet impossible as it was, he sometimes wondered what it would be like to have her lavish all that determined caring on him instead of against him.

“Come now, Clara,” he went on, softening his tone, “at least have the good sense to acknowledge when you’ve lost a battle.”

“I won’t let this rest. I’ll find a way to save Johnny from you
and
from himself.”

His temper flared. Her and her damned principles…couldn’t she see when she should keep her nose out of something? “You do what you have to,
ma belle ange
. Just remember that even angels know where to avoid treading. And when to accept defeat.”

Then without waiting for her response, he returned to his shop. He had half a mind to turn right around and tell her the truth about his activities. Wouldn’t she feel foolish for her outrage then?

He sighed. No, he couldn’t do that. Clara was an open book, as honest as a nun at confession. Though she’d try to keep quiet about his true purpose, she might give him away without meaning to. And once she knew, she’d probably meddle. Too much was at stake to risk that.

As soon as he entered his shop and saw the meager appointments, it hit him what he’d done. He’d agreed to take on
Johnny. To care for and protect and shelter a
child
. When he should be concentrating on protecting himself.

Never mind that Johnny was the same age as most of the cabin boys that had been under Morgan’s care when he was a captain. Never mind that boys his age went into danger on a regular basis at sea. Never mind that the “child” was a denizen of the streets used to fending for himself. It was still a big responsibility.

A commotion in the street drew him to the open door. Clara was arguing with her aunt. It didn’t last long. The older woman soon had the footman loading up the carriage again, leaving Clara to stand helplessly gazing about her at the street.

Her aunt opened the door to the carriage and looked back at her niece. “Are you coming, dear?”

Clara straightened wearily, cast his shop a defeated glance, then looked at her aunt. “No. I’m going to the Home. You go on.”

Frustration ripped through him as he saw her turn away from the carriage and wander slowly in the direction of the Home. Though he ought to be relieved, he felt horrible. He didn’t want to be responsible for taking away her hope.

He stiffened. What the hell was he thinking? The woman would destroy him in a heartbeat if she thought she could. She was meddling with an important investigation, causing trouble where he could ill afford it.

Looking after children nobody wanted but her.

With a curse, he left the window. He couldn’t consider any of that now. It would blunt his focus. Bad enough that he’d let his feelings for her lead him into doing something as stupid as taking Johnny. He wouldn’t allow them any more sway than that. It was several days since the Specter had last spoken to him, and he must stay alert for the next confrontation.

The side door swung open to admit Johnny. “I brought all my stuff,” he said brightly.

All his “stuff” consisted of a fancy cloak-bag, probably stolen, full of what Morgan hoped was clothing. He tried not to think of how pitiful it was that any boy should possess only enough belongings to fit into a cloak-bag.

“Where d’you want me to put it?” Johnny asked.

“Upstairs,” Morgan said. “I’ll show you.”

As Morgan led the way up the dusty stairs to the storerooms, he said, “I imagine you passed Lady Clara on your way here.”

When Johnny was silent, Morgan glanced back to see the boy scowling.

“Did she speak to you?” Morgan asked.

“She tried. I told her to bugger off.”

Morgan managed to contain his anger until they’d both left the stairwell. Then he turned to fix the boy with a stern glance. “I truly hope you’re not that stupid.”

Johnny stuck out his lower lip. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know how rare it is to have a woman like that looking out for your well-being? You ought to be grateful she cares so much about what happens to you.”

“You mean, because she’s a lady and I’m just a pickpocket?” Johnny said, almost sneering. “You think she’s better’n you and me?”

“I do, actually. Not because she’s woman of rank, but because she cares about people. She realizes that her actions have consequences and affect others around her. She takes her responsibilities seriously, no thanks to you and your heedless tongue.”

Johnny stared down at his toes. “She’s got too many rules.”

“And you, my boy, don’t have enough of them. But that’s going to change.” When Johnny’s head shot up, Morgan went
on firmly, “Rule one: no stealing of any kind. No picking pockets, no snatching cloaks off people’s backs as they pass by alleys, no breaking into any houses.”

“But I thought you wanted me—”

“I know what you thought. You were wrong. My ability to evade the law depends on my appearing to be legitimate, and I won’t have you jeopardize that for a few wipers and a tick or two.”

That seemed to mollify Johnny somewhat. “So you’re not just keeping me from stealing ’cause
she
said to.”

“Who, Lady Clara?”

Johnny nodded.

“No.” But of course that was why. And it roused Morgan’s temper sorely that her feelings mattered so much to him. He shouldn’t care. It was dangerous to care. “Rule two: you rise in the morning when I tell you to rise, you go to bed when I tell you to go to bed, and you don’t leave this shop without my express permission. Is that understood?”

“Might as well put me in a bloody gaol,” Johnny mumbled under his breath.

“Which is where you’re headed if you don’t curb your impulses before you’re an old and unrepentant scoundrel like me.”

That got Johnny’s attention. “You ever been in a gaol?”

“Several times. Before I was even as old as you. It was not a pleasant experience. I’d like to avoid repeating it. Which brings me to rule three: you are not to speak to anybody about what goes on in this shop. Not your sister, not your pickpocket cronies, and not this Timothy fellow.”

“Timothy’s my brother,” Johnny put in. “He’s only five. I don’t tell him nothing.”

Morgan caught his breath. “There’s
two
of you Perkins boys? And a sister?
Bon Dieu
, I know you said your mother is dead, but have you no other relations? A father?”

Johnny hung his head. “He got seven years’ transportation for forgery. He was passing forged bank notes when he was caught. We ain’t got no family that’ll claim us after what he did, so Lucy is all we got.”

“And apparently even Lucy has despaired of you two and washed her hands of her responsibilities.”

“That’s not it.” Johnny stuck out his lower lip. “Lucy’s been spending time with a police officer.” He lifted a hot gaze to Morgan. “But he don’t like us, so she don’t want us around. I reckon she wants to marry him ’cause he’s respectable and he’s got money. And if she does marry him, well…I expect Tim and I will be on our own.”