The Forbidden Lady (12 page)

Carefully she settled him on the ochre-yellow settee, but he never woke, so exhausted he was. She brushed back his soft brown hair and let him sleep.

Q
uincy read the latest news from his uncle.

Dear Quin,

Clarence has hired a solicitor. They requested a court date in order to present their case. Our solicitor will arrange to have this proceeding postponed ’til we can come up with a solution.

Edward

Quin sighed and held the letter to a candle flame. So, Clarence had finally made his first move. It probably meant that the court in England had ruled on the case there. And if Clarence was proceeding, the ruling must have been favorable to him and his father.
Damn.
The court here would simply follow suit.

No wonder Clarence had been in such a jolly mood lately. It didn’t bother him at all to steal from his own brother.

Quin dropped the blackening letter onto a silver tray and watched it smolder to a pile of ashes. Clarence wasn’t concerned about hurting a brother. In fact, he probably felt justified in saving the family business from a bastard.

Scraping back his chair from the drop-leaf desk, Quin stood, then ambled to the walnut sideboard to fill a glass with Madeira. He paced back and forth, sipping the sweet wine, considering yet another problem. When he had arrived home, Mrs. Millstead had complained in her usual whining voice that her son Samuel had done his and Josiah’s chores for Josiah had never returned from his schooling.

Quin knew he should rush to Virginia’s house to see what had happened, but he hesitated. The taste of her lips, the feel of her body against him, the sensations tormented him every night. He couldn’t deal with this infatuation right now. Besides, she was still angry with him. Just as well. She deserved better than a bastard. A bastard who might soon be penniless.

A sound at the door drew his attention. Josiah peeked in, blue eyes wide with guilt.

A wave of relief swept over him. The boy had not run away. With effort, he kept his expression stern. “Where have you been, Josiah? You were due back hours ago.”

Josiah glanced to the side as a voice whispered to him. He whispered back to the person standing outside Quin’s study.

Quin set his glass down and advanced toward the door. “Who are you hiding back there?”

“Whom.” A feminine voice corrected him.

Josiah grinned.

“Virginia?” Quin opened the door wide.

There she was—a woolen cape of dark green wrapped about her. The hood had fallen back, and strands of auburn hair curled around her face. The brisk weather outdoors had left her cheeks bright pink. She was dressed in plain wool, and he had never seen her so lovely.

“Virginia, come in.”

“I shouldn’t stay. I walked Josiah home so I could explain his tardiness.”

Quin glanced down at the boy. “Why are you late?”

Josiah scratched his head and shifted from one foot to another. “I . . . I fell asleep.”

“Asleep? When you had chores to do?”

“Please allow me to explain,” Virginia said.

Quin frowned. “Very well. Josiah, go have your supper.”

“Yes, Mr. Stanton.” Josiah turned away, then tugged on Virginia’s cape. “Ye won’t tell him I . . . ye know.”

She patted his shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”

Josiah scampered off to the kitchen.

When Quin looked at Virginia she was studying him with her mermaid eyes. He clenched his fists to keep from pulling her into his arms.

She cleared her throat. “I allowed Josiah to sleep this afternoon because he was exhausted.”

“Exhausted? I haven’t overworked him.”

“No, he was . . . emotionally drained. He experienced . . . an episode.”

“What are you saying?”

She sighed. “He doesn’t want you to know, but he collapsed into tears, grieving for his mother.”

“Oh, I see.” Quin leaned against the doorjamb. A vague memory of a lullaby and soft arms flickered in his mind. He couldn’t remember what his mother had looked like, but he remembered the pain of losing her. “I wondered when he would finally break.”

“Break? You were expecting this?”

“Aye. I never saw Josiah grieve for her. ’Twas not natural.”

Virginia’s eyes glistened with tears. “His mother told him not to cry. He was still trying to mind her.”

“Damn.” Quin wandered into his study and downed the last of the Madeira from his glass. “I didn’t mean to involve you to this extent. I’m sorry you were put through this.” Poor Ginny. He had only meant to keep her occupied with Josiah so she would give up spying. He shouldn’t have used the boy so shamelessly to further his own plans.

“ ’Twas natural he would turn to me. He would be mortified to cry in front of you, Quin. He thinks very highly of you.”

Quin set his glass down on the sideboard, planning to refill it. “Not highly enough, obviously.”

“I disagree. He wishes you were his father.”

Quin spun around, stunned. How had that happened? He spent most of his time fussing at the boy.

Virginia smiled as if amused. “I should be going now before it grows dark. Good evening.”

“Wait.” He grabbed his coat from the back of a chair and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. “I’ll walk you back.”

“ ’Tis not necessary.”

He offered his arm. “I want to be with you, Ginny.”

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

“L
ob, buy lob!�� The lobsterman pushed his red-and-blue wheelbarrow down Union Street, selling his wares.

Virginia smiled at Quin as they strolled arm in arm. “Thank you for the book. I enjoyed it very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

She breathed in the crisply cool air, surveyed the pink-and-gold clouds painted by the setting sun, and felt a surge of pure happiness. She stole another sidelong glance at her escort.

Quin was not dressed in his usual finery. His plain but well-cut blue woolen coat and breeches emphasized his tall, muscular frame. Dark whiskers shaded his jaw. She wondered if it would feel prickly against her fingertips. His short hair, without a wig, reminded her of the time he had kissed her in the orchard. She had slipped her arms around his neck and burrowed her fingers into his hair.

“Would you like a flip?”

She jolted into the present. “A what?”

“ ’Tis a popular drink—a beer mixed with a little sugar, molasses, dried pumpkin, and rum. Before they serve it, they plunge a hot chunk of iron in it.”

She grimaced. “Why? Is it not bad enough as it is?”

“It gives it a burned and bitter taste.” After a glance at her expression, he chuckled. “All right. Perhaps you would like a hot chocolate.”

“Oh, I do like chocolate. My father treated us to one before he left. I believe it was this place on the right.”

“Then you shall have another.” Quin led her into the coffeehouse and to a table in a quiet corner. He sat across from her as a young waitress approached.

“Lord, ain’t you two a handsome pair.” The waitress grinned at them.

Quin glanced at her. “Good evening.”

“Me name’s Sukey. What can I fetch for you?”

“A coffee for me and—”

“And for yer wife?”

He hesitated as his gaze flitted to Virginia. He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair.

Virginia came to his rescue. “We’re not married.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Sukey nodded her head knowingly. With a hand on the table, she bent over Virginia. “Fallen for a married man, have ye? Poor lass, there’s nuthin’ but heartache in store for the likes of you.”

“He’s not married. I mean”—Virginia glanced at Quin—“I don’t believe he is.”

His dimpled smile confirmed her belief.

“What?” Planting her fists on her hips, Sukey pivoted her short, square frame toward her male customer. “A handsome man like you, not married? What are ye waiting for?”

“A coffee. And a hot chocolate for my . . . friend.”

“Hmm, well, suit yerself, but I’m telling you, if ye don’t snatch her up quick, someone else will.” Sukey wheeled around in a huff and marched off to the kitchens.

Quin frowned at Sukey’s departing figure.

An awkward silence ensued while Virginia scoured her mind for a pleasant topic. “Oh, I have good news. Aunt Mary made a great deal of money on her last venture. We have all ordered new gowns. Mine is a golden color. Aunt Mary assures me the color suits me, but I . . .” She drifted off as she noticed the incredulous look on his face. “Is something amiss?”

“What ship did she have her merchandise on?”

“One of your uncle’s ships, I believe
. The Forbidden Lady
?”

“That’s my ship.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize—”

“British customs seized half the goods when she came in. We took a loss.”

Virginia’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t understand. Edward Stanton told my aunt the good news himself. He gave her the money from the profits.”

Quin shook his head. “There were no profits. He must have given her his own money.”

“But why?” Virginia observed Quin’s eyes fill with heat and desire, similar to the way Edward Stanton viewed her aunt. “Oh, dear.” She studied her clasped hands on the table.

Quin reached over and took her hands in his. “Edward has been in love with your aunt for years.”

“We cannot possibly keep the money.”

“It must be what my uncle wants. I would do the same.” He squeezed her hands gently.

She looked at him and became lost in his gray eyes that darkened to twilight. She felt the pressure of his fingers against her own, his steady pulse against her skin. Slowly, her pulse matched the rhythm of his as if their life’s blood sought to become one. The world around her grew dim, and she wanted it to last forever.

She started when a coffee and hot chocolate were banged down on the table between their outstretched arms.

“Just friends, are you? Looking at each other like a pair of cats eyeing the cream. Ye’re not fooling me none.” Sukey gave them each a saucy look. “We’ve got rooms upstairs we rent out for the likes of you.”

Virginia grasped her mug, her cheeks as hot as the mug of chocolate.

Quin cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary.”

“In a hurry, are you? I could talk to me boss, see if I can get ye in for fifteen minutes—”

“That’s enough!” Quin glared at the waitress. “Leave us be.”

“Humph!” Sukey spun around and marched off, mumbling to herself. “Try to help people and see what it gets you.”

“Damn.” Quin reached for his mug. “I thought this was a normal coffeehouse.”

Virginia sipped her drink. It slid down, hot, rich, and comforting to her frayed nerves. “The chocolate is good.”

“I apologize for her behavior, Ginny.”

“At least you’re apologizing for someone else this time.”

His dimples deepened as he smiled. “And not myself?”

She smiled and enjoyed another sip of chocolate. “I’m sorry about your ship.”

“I was at the customs house today, trying to get our goods back. Still, it could be worse. They confiscated Derby’s sloop, and now they’re taking him to the admiralty court.”

“What will happen there?”

“They’ll probably sell the ship and her cargo. The governor will get a third of the proceeds, the customs official another third, and our mother country the last third. ’Tis not in their interest to be fair about it.”

Virginia grimaced. “It sounds like robbery to me.”

“Aye, it is, but unlike the Boston Burglar, ’tis legal.” He took a long drink of coffee. “The mother country sees us as slaves, laboring for the sole purpose of feeding her greed.”

“You don’t sound like a Tory, Quin.” She hoped he would confide in her just a little.

“Neither do you.”

“I’m not. What are you?”

He finished his coffee, giving himself time to consider a response. “I am what you see.”

She frowned at her almost empty mug. What a ridiculous answer. Then again, he was not dressed as a fop today. Perhaps he was telling her something.

His mouth quirked with a playful smile. “Of course, if you would like to seduce me to the Colonial cause, I would be a willing victim. Shall I call Sukey over?”

“No, I’m a patriot, not a martyr.”

Chuckling, he tossed a few coins on the table. “Shall we go?”

He escorted her to the south side of Boston in the fading twilight.

As they turned onto Milk Street, she surveyed the stars as they became visible in the darkening sky. “Do you know the stars well?”

“Aye. You can see them better at sea. And if the sea is calm, it can reflect their light so that you feel completely surrounded by them.”

“That sounds beautiful.”

“Aye, it is, though you don’t make good time. Do you see the bright one there?” He pointed over her shoulder. “That’s the North Star.”

“Oh, like the name of the ship where we met.”

“Aye, it has always guided me true.” He smiled at her. “It led me to you.”

Blushing, she mounted the steps to the front door. “Would you like to join us for supper?”

He appeared surprised by the offer. “I would enjoy that, but I’ve already made arrangements to eat with Clarence.”

She wondered why he spent so much time with the man who had announced his illegitimacy to all of Boston. “Do you get along well with your brother?”

“ ’Tis better to keep the enemy under close watch.”

“You call your brother an enemy? Is that because of the rumor he spread about you?”

“ ’Tis no rumor. I am a bastard.”

She winced at his sharp tone.

Frowning, he studied his shoes. “I should go. Thank you for your help with Josiah.”

“You’re welcome.”
No wonder he refuses to confide in me.
Trust had to be difficult for a man when he was rejected by his father and his brother was his enemy. “Will you be at the Ashfords’ ball next week?”

“Aye. ’Tis a ball for Tories.”

“Or those of us pretending to be Tories.”

He placed a foot on the bottom step, leaned forward, and took her hand. “No more spying, Ginny, please.”

“I’ll try to restrain myself.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He pressed his mouth to her hand and strode away.

She closed the front door and rested against it, deep in thought. Quincy Stanton had been a puzzle from the day he had tried to purchase her, but she felt she was beginning to understand him. He was a mixture of pride and doubt, of strength and pain. He needed love, but was afraid to trust in it. He was a challenge, but definitely a worthy one. And she was falling in love with him.

Monday, November 6, 1769

“I
feel it would be best for me to quarter here in your home,” Captain Breakwell announced.

Virginia gulped. She had been surprised when the captain arrived uninvited at her door close to midnight, but this latest statement astounded her. “I cannot believe we’re in that much danger.”

“Did you go out this evening?”

“No, Aunt Mary said we should stay inside because of the celebration.”

“Aye, Pope’s Day, they call it.” William sat across from her on the settee. “I have been there, and I can tell you ’tis nothing more than two unruly mobs trying to kill each other.”

“Surely, ’tis not that bad—”

“Your aunt can tell you I’m not exaggerating. A few years ago, the mobs killed a young boy. Ran him down with a cart or some such nonsense. These Colonials are barbaric! You should not live here amongst these savages.”

As shocked as she was by the death of the boy, Virginia felt increasingly vexed by the captain’s opinion of her countrymen. “I would not call them savages, William.”

“Do you know what they did? First, the groups from the north and south sides of town swarmed each other, trying to get each other’s effigy of the Pope. Then, they dragged the effigies to the gallows at the Neck to burn them.”

She shrugged. “ ’Tis a simple demonstration against Catholicism.”

“There were thousands of them, as wild as animals. At least they were fighting each other, but if they gang up against us—I’m telling you, Virginia, if they turn against the mother country, this will not be a fit place for a dog to live.”

She rose to her feet. “This is a fine country, and there are many well-educated, intelligent Colonials.”

“I doubt their intelligence when they purposely incite these mobs to violence.”

“They have legitimate complaints. No one should have to live under tyranny.”

William rose to his feet. “Tyranny? Surely it is better to live safely under one tyrant who is three thousand miles away than to live under the threat of three thousand tyrants here. These people cannot possibly manage to rule themselves.”

“I will take my chances here.” She took a deep breath and sat down. “I am sorry, William. We simply do not agree.”

“I had not realized you had such feelings for this country.” He sighed and wandered about the room. “I can hardly blame you. ’Tis the only country you know.” He stopped to stare out the window. “My father plans to marry me off to an heiress back in England. I had hoped to thwart his plans.”

“You do not wish to marry the heiress?”

“No. We’re not suited, but my father thinks we need the money.”

“I certainly don’t have much in the way of a dowry, but there are other young ladies in Boston who do.”

He shrugged, still gazing out the window. “I have other plans for acquiring the money I need. Still, I would like to return already married so my father cannot force me to his will.”

“I have no doubt you can be successful. I’ve been told you are a good catch.”

He peered back at her. “But you do not believe it?”

“I do, truly. ’Tis merely that I am . . .”

“In love with someone else?”

She studied her hands in her lap as heat invaded her cheeks. Was she that obvious? No, she couldn’t be. Quin didn’t seem to know. But would he recognize love if it grabbed him by the nose and shook him?

“I hope he knows how fortunate he is.” With a curt nod of his head, Captain Breakwell paced toward the front door. “Good evening, Miss Munro.”

Saturday, November 11, 1769

“I
’m so envious of you, Ginny.” Caroline sighed dramatically as they rode in a carriage. “You have two suitors vying for your hand. Perhaps, if you’re lucky, they’ll fight a duel for you.”

Virginia winced. “I certainly hope not. Besides, I wouldn’t say I have two suitors.”

“Of course you do. Now if I were you, I’d take Quincy Stanton. He’s absolutely perfect.”

Virginia couldn’t help but wonder by what criteria her sister judged perfection. “Why do you think so?”

“He sends presents. The oranges were nice and the book was wonderful. And the chocolate he sent us this week—well, any man who gives you books and chocolate must be perfect.”

Aunt Mary laughed. “I believe you are correct.”

Virginia’s heart beat faster as they approached the Ashford home. Perfect or not, Quincy Stanton would be there. This was the house where she had followed him upstairs and he had slipped his thumb into her neckline. Something even more exciting could happen tonight.

She smoothed out her skirts, hoping the ride in the rented carriage would not cause wrinkles in her new gown. A white-and-gold brocade panel across the front of the bodice narrowed as it reached her waist. Her full overskirt of gold silk was slit up the front to reveal an underskirt of matching brocade. As much as she loved this golden gown, she felt a twinge of guilt about it. She had not told her aunt that their new clothing had been purchased out of Edward Stanton’s own pocket.