The Forbidden Lady (13 page)

“Now, about your other suitor,” Caroline continued. “I know Captain Breakwell would ask for your hand if you gave him the slightest encouragement. Of course, I don’t really want you to marry him, because he would take you to England and ’tis too far away. But it would be exciting to hear him propose.”

Virginia narrowed her eyes on her younger sister. “Exciting for you, no doubt. You were listening at the door again, weren’t you?”

Caroline blushed. “Well, I wouldn’t need to if anything exciting ever happened to me. ’Tis not fair. You have two men who want you. Even Aunt Mary has a suitor.”

“I do?” Mary chuckled. “Now that’s news to me.”

“You would have to be blind not to see it, Aunt Mary. Edward Stanton looks at you like you’re a goddess. And all that money he gave you—ow!” Caroline glared at her sister. “You kicked me!”

Virginia scowled back. She had told her sister to refuse any more gifts from their aunt since the money came directly from Edward Stanton. She had also warned Caroline not to tell Aunt Mary the truth.

“Edward paid me the money earned by Dover Mercantile on the last voyage,” Aunt Mary explained.

“Oh, absolutely, of course, you’re right.” Caroline nodded her head, red curls bouncing. “That’s exactly what happened. Right, Ginny?”

Virginia noted her aunt’s suspicious expression.

“Is there something I should know?” Mary asked.

Simultaneously, Virginia answered “no” as her sister answered “yes.”

Mary frowned at her nieces. “I want the truth.”

The carriage slowed to a stop in front of the Ashford home.

V
irginia caught her breath as the dance ended.

Quincy escorted her to a chair. “Shall I fetch you some punch?”

“Yes, thank you.” She admired his retreating figure, dressed in elegant gray silk.

“Ginny!” Caroline startled her, then perched on the chair beside her. “Everyone is talking about you and Quincy Stanton. They say he’s besotted, that you’ve blinded him to the charms of other women.”

Virginia smiled, recalling the moment when Quin had arrived at the ball with Josiah. He had exchanged words with the hostess while tossing his tricorne and walking stick to the young boy. When he spotted her seated by Aunt Mary, he headed directly for her. His usual flock of peahens swooped down upon him, surrounding him. He smiled, nodded his head, and slipped right by them, continuing on to Virginia. Then he asked her to dance three times in a row.

From what Caroline reported, Boston society had received his message. Everyone knew Quincy Stanton had chosen her.

Caroline leaned close to whisper. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? You should see yourself, Ginny. Your skin is rosy and glowing, and with that golden gown of yours, I vow you’re as radiant as the sun. And in gray, he gleams like the moon. You’re perfect for each other.”

Virginia blinked and stared at Caroline. So often, her exasperating sister blurted out things she shouldn’t say, but she always spoke from the heart. “I think that’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“ ’Tis the truth. I’m so happy for you. You don’t know how much I’ve prayed that my foolish words back home would not ruin your chance for happiness.”

Virginia squeezed her sister’s hand. Caroline, in her youthfulness, seemed to think all was simple and rosy, but the future was far from settled. She watched Quin approaching with two glasses of rum punch. He had not declared any intention of marrying her, nor had he claimed any special affection for her. True, he’d kissed her under the apple tree very sweetly at first, then with undeniable passion, but he had probably kissed many women before. He still kept his secrets from her, refusing to discuss himself.

Quincy handed her a glass and turned to her sister. “Would you care for some punch?”

“Not for me, but I’ll take it to Aunt Mary, if you don’t mind.” Caroline accepted the glass and strolled across the room to where Aunt Mary sat in a daze.

Quin took the seat vacated by Caroline. “Is your aunt all right?”

“I fear she’s suffering from shock.” Virginia sipped her punch. “She now knows her recent earnings were a gift from your uncle.”

“She didn’t take it well?”

“No. She insists she must pay him back, but she hasn’t the funds now. I wish there was something I could do.”

Quin shrugged his broad shoulders. “Edward wouldn’t take her money. He’s in love with her, wants to marry her.”

Virginia drank more punch. How easily Quin spoke of other people wanting love and marriage. Would he be able to admit it so freely of himself? She glanced up to see his younger brother, dressed in claret velvet, approaching them.

“I say, old boy, are you going to introduce me to this lovely lady or keep her all to yourself?”

Quin rose to his feet. “Virginia Munro, my brother, Clarence.”

“Charmed.” Clarence raised her hand to his lips. “The other men in the room are too cowardly to ask you to dance, fearing the wrath of Quincy, but I shall do so.” He cast an amused glance at his brother. “What say you, old boy, can I dance with the most beautiful woman in the room without fearing your glove slapping me in the face?”

Quincy’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Of course you may dance, but one wrong move and ’twill not be my glove but my fist you will feel.”

Clarence chuckled. “Come, my dear. Let us show my oafish brother how the steps look when properly executed.”

She passed her half-empty glass of punch to Quin and allowed Clarence to lead her to the floor for the next dance. Odd, she thought, that Quin would agree to this when he didn’t seem to trust his brother. She peered over her shoulder and spotted Quin slipping out the parlor door.
Of course! Blast the man.
He wanted her occupied while he sneaked about on his secret errands.

The music started to “Balance a Straw.” She curtsied to Clarence. The entire time the man made a leg to her, his eyes inspected her bosom. Normally, such ogling would have embarrassed her, but she could only feel vexation with Quin. He had purposely left her with his leering brother so he could wander about the house doing his mysterious deeds.

She moved through the steps, wondering where he could be. The last time they had been in this house, he had gone across the hall to the study and then upstairs. It occurred to her that the open window in the study had been where Josiah had exited.

Her anger doubled. It was bad enough for Quin to risk his own neck, but to involve an innocent young boy? The courts would suffer no qualms at sentencing a boy to hang. How could Quincy use Josiah like this? She would certainly let him know how she felt. If she could find him.

When the dance ended, she excused herself, presumably to find the necessary room. She crossed the hall into the study and closed the door behind her. A quick survey of the dimly lit room yielded nothing. Quin must have gone upstairs. She listened at the door, planning a quick exit and dash up the stairs. The sound of footsteps reached her ears as someone else crept up the stairs.

She hesitated, wondering what to do. The light of the moon shone through the windows, illuminating the desk and the stack of papers on top. Papers, so easily within her reach. She had agreed to stop spying, but what harm could come from a quick peek? No one would know.

She scurried over to the desk and rummaged through the papers. Most were simple letters or bills, but one caught her eye. Written by the chief customs official, it was addressed to Colonel Farley, who quartered in the Ashford home. It supplied the names of merchants and ship owners, all described as major Colonial sympathizers, along with a list of their ships which the customs official clearly stated he planned to seize.

Virginia skimmed down the list and found Edward Stanton’s name. Quincy needed to see this. For that matter, all of Boston needed to see this. The British were singling out the more rebellious of the Colonials for financial ruin. She folded up the paper and jammed it down the bodice of her gown.

She peeked out the door. The coast was clear. She sauntered into the parlor, displaying a calm demeanor to mask the pounding excitement that coursed through her veins. Quincy was not there. She sat down beside her aunt.

“Where have you been?” Mary whispered. “You shouldn’t wander off with Quincy Stanton. ’Tis not proper to be alone with him.”

“I wasn’t with him. Aunt Mary, I have discovered the most incredible information. I have it tucked inside my gown.”

“Oh, my! This is wonderful.”

“You must show it to Edward Stanton tomorrow.”

“Oh, no! This is dreadful. I canna see the man.”

“Aunt Mary, you must. It involves him.”

Her face paled. “Is he in danger?”

“Not physically, but it is bad.”

Mary pressed her hand against her chest. “Puir Edward.”

Virginia realized her aunt’s speech had reverted to a Scottish brogue. “You do care for him, don’t you?”

Mary closed her eyes, not answering.

Scanning the room, Virginia spotted Quincy slipping into the parlor. He ambled to the refreshment table. Another dance began, this one to “Money in Both Pockets.” She wondered what Quin had hidden in
his
pockets. Clarence sauntered into the parlor, breaking into the line at the refreshment table to stand beside his brother. Caroline was dancing with a young lieutenant; Captain Breakwell partnered Priscilla Higgenbottom.

The elderly Mrs. Ashford burst into the parlor with a high-pitched screech. The music ground to a stop as she continued to scream. “Thieves! Robbers! My emerald ring was missing from my hand. I went to see if it was in my bedchamber and discovered my emerald necklace was gone!”

Captain Breakwell and the lieutenant who had partnered Caroline darted out the room and up the stairs to search for the burglar. Women squealed and checked their jewels. Men examined their pockets and rings.

Over the noise, Clarence Stanton’s voice boomed out. “Calm yourselves! We can unmask this hideous Boston Burglar tonight.”

A hush fell over the room as the crowd listened to Clarence.

“I suggest we all submit ourselves to a search. Colonel Farley can search the men. Mrs. Ashford and Mrs. Higgenbottom can search the women in another room.”

Mrs. Ashford gasped. “You believe a woman could be the burglar?”

Clarence smiled. “My dear Mrs. Ashford, I have known women to be capable of most anything.”

Mrs. Higgenbottom planted her hands on her wide hips. “His lordship is correct. We will catch the fiend tonight. If all the women will step into the study, we will commence with the search.” She barreled out of the room, like a cannon rolling to the front line.

“Oh, God.” Virginia pressed a trembling hand against the bodice of her gown. “Oh, no.”

“Ginny,” Aunt Mary whispered. “Is that paper on you?”

“Yes.” Virginia gripped her aunt’s hand. She gasped for air, finding it difficult to breathe. If they found the paper on her, they would know she was a spy. “What shall I do?”

Tears filled Mary’s eyes. “Give it to me.”

Ginny released her aunt’s hand, jumping back in her seat. “No!”

Suddenly, Quincy Stanton appeared before her, his eyes flashing like a storm cloud, his granite jaw clenched. “We’re getting out of here now.”

He hauled her to her feet and dragged her past the others and out the front door. With a viselike grip on her arm, he towed her along to his carriage.

Virginia had never seen him so angry. As stunned and frightened as she was, she went along with him for the consequences of staying behind seemed worse.

He yanked open the carriage door and tossed her inside like a sack of cornmeal. She sprawled on the backseat with a flurry of skirts as a perverse thought sneaked into her shocked and confused mind. Was he fleeing the scene not to protect her, but himself? If they searched him, would they find the jewels? It would explain his secretive behavior. And he was always present when the thefts occurred.

Quincy Stanton could be the Boston Burglar.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

“W
e’re getting out of here now.” Quin escorted Virginia out the door.

One look at the panic-stricken terror on her face and he had known she was in trouble. What could she have done? She had promised not to spy, and he knew she couldn’t steal. Unless, the thought sizzled through him, she was stealing to help her indebted aunt. Anger boiled inside him, threatening to explode.

He helped her into the coach and yelled to the driver to return to his house with all haste. He leapt in and slammed the door behind him. Ginny’s wide skirts covered most of the backseat as she struggled to sit up properly. He sat across from her, frowning with the realization he might have been a little too forceful. As the coach lurched forward, he braced himself by grabbing the edge of the open window frame.

The sudden forward movement of the carriage sent her careening backward again with a bewildered exclamation. Flailing her arms about, she reached for the looped silken cord that hung from the ceiling.

“
No!
” He lunged for her.

She toppled onto her back, pulling the cord as she fell.

The trap door swooshed open to release the iron bar.

“Umph.” He landed on top of her just seconds before the heavy iron rod smacked the cushions of the front seat.

She slapped at his shoulders. “What are you doing? You knocked me down!”

“You nearly knocked me out.” He seized her wrists. “Calm down, Ginny. You’re safe, now.”

“Safe? You jumped on me. You attacked me!”

“No, I . . .” He realized he was on top of her, his face only an inch from the rounded curves of the exposed portion of her breasts.

“Get off of me.” With each frantic breath she took, her breasts rose toward him, tempting him.

He released her wrists. “Dear Lord.”

She shoved at his shoulders. “Go back to your seat.”

“I cannot.” He grazed her soft, pliant skin with the tip of his nose. She was warm and smelled of lavender and sweet woman.

“Go back to your seat!”

He breathed deeply, reveling in her scent. “I cannot. The rod fell out.”

“The
what?
”

“The rod. It fell out.”

“Why do you have a rod?”

Grinning, he nuzzled his face against her breasts.

“Stop that.” She pushed at his head. “Go back to your seat this instant.”

“There’s no room. The rod takes up the entire seat.”

“I don’t care how big your rod is. Get off of me!”

He buried his face in her breasts to stifle his laughter.

“Why are you snickering on me?” She shoved at his head. “Get your face off of me.”

He lifted his face when he felt his wig coming off.

“Oh, blast!” She scowled at the wig in her hand and threw it behind her.

He raised himself onto his elbows. “Ginny, you threw my wig out the window.”

“What?” She twisted around to look at the open windows of the carriage. “Oh, no! We should go back for it.” She struggled to sit up.

“Forget about it.” Chuckling, he leaned down and knocked heads with her as she was coming up.

“Ow!” She fell back on the cushions.

He winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you. Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry about your wig.”

“Where did I hit you?”

“My chin.”

He stroked his fingers along the line of her jaw. “Sweet Ginny. Can you open your mouth?”

“Yes, of course. I’m talking, aren’t I?”

He closed in, sliding his hands behind her head. “Open your mouth.”

“I said I was all right. What are you doing?”

He planted his mouth on hers. She made a startled noise and tensed beneath him.

He eased the pressure of his kiss, persuading her with gentler, nibbling kisses.

With a moan she responded. She wrapped her arms around him and scrunched her lips tightly against him. He pulled back, awed by her innocent eagerness.

“Quin?”

“Open for me.” He pressed his lips against hers and felt them mold against his, soft and giving. She made a small noise of surprise when he slipped his tongue inside.

Her mouth tasted of rum punch; her tongue grew bolder as she adjusted to his exploration. He took his time, relishing her willingness. He moved down her neck, his lips on one side, his fingertips on the other. Her skin was velvet to touch and smelled of lavender soap.

He traced the delicate curve of her collarbone and proceeded to her breasts. She moaned, running her fingers into his hair. Her heart pounded beneath his mouth. He brushed his lips over her skin, the rise and fall of her breasts like the foamy white waves of the sea, the sea calling him home.

He slipped his fingers into the neckline of her dress, hoping to disclose more sweet flesh. His fingers brushed against something loose inside her bodice. It crackled against the pressure of his fingers.

Paper.

“What is this?” He pulled the folded paper from her bodice.

“What?” Her voice sounded drowsy.

He tossed the paper to the side and jammed his fingers back inside her bodice. “What else are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” Now alert, she yanked his hand out of her dress.

“Do you have the jewels?” Sitting up, he ran his hand up her legs.

“What are you doing?” She kicked her legs at him and squirmed to a sitting position.

“I saw your face when they were planning to search for the missing jewelry. You were terrified.”

She stared at him, stunned, then huffed with indignation. “You believe I’m a common thief? How . . . how could you?”

“I don’t believe you would do it for yourself, but you are concerned about your aunt’s financial situation, and you were present when the theft took place.”

“I cannot believe this! You would kiss a woman you believe to be a criminal?”

He took a deep breath and shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I don’t know how I . . . I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “I have never been so insulted. Are you aware the same logic works against you, Quincy Stanton? You sneak about people’s houses. You refuse to explain your activities. You’re always present when the thefts take place.”

He blinked, dumbfounded. “You’re saying I’m the Boston Burglar?”

She shrugged. “What am I to think when you won’t confide in me?”

He clenched his teeth. Was her opinion of him that low? “If the same logic applies to me, then so does the same insult. You kissed me, you laid down on the cushions beneath me, thinking I’m a criminal.”

“I couldn’t think at all. Besides, you pushed me.”

“Oh. So like a bastard I forced you?”

Her mouth fell open. She covered her mouth to stifle a groan.

The carriage stopped.

He glared out the window at his rented house. He had been so frantic, he had not thought clearly. He should take Ginny to her house. And then he would have to return to the Ashfords’ for Josiah.

“Oh, no.” He sat back. Josiah, the best pickpocket in all of London.

“What?” Ginny asked.

“We must go back immediately. I forgot Josiah.” He leaned out the window and yelled to the coachman to return to the Ashfords’.

The carriage moved with a jolt.

“I believe you’re a spy.”

Astonished by her sudden accusation, he could only stare at her a moment. “Ginny, don’t ask me—”

“I’m not asking, for I would not have you lie to me. But ’tis what I believe, and I think it is unconscionable of you to involve Josiah. The courts would hang him right alongside you.”

“And you would not object to me hanging?”

She huddled back in the corner, frowning at him. “Of course I would.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “You have my word. Josiah will not be placed in danger again. I should never have taken him to these parties. The temptation was too much for him.”

“Temptation?”

“Aye. Josiah could be the burglar.”

“Nonsense! He’s only a boy.”

“A boy thief, the best pickpocket in London.” He moved to the front seat and lifted the iron rod.

“Do you need help getting it up?”

Grinning, he stashed the bar overhead. “I’m sure I can manage when the time comes.” With a click he closed the trapdoor.
When the time comes.
He felt sure it would. “If you don’t mind, Ginny, I would prefer to share your seat. I hate sitting under this thing.”

“Why do you have such an odd contraption?”

He settled in the seat beside her. “ ’Tis for protection, in case I find myself in poor company. The silken cord from the ceiling releases it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you pounced on me.”

“Originally, yes. Once there, I remained for the sheer pleasure.”

She studied her hands folded in her lap. “You didn’t force me.”

He smiled, remembering her sweet eagerness. “No, but I went too far.” He picked up the paper from the floor. “Is this what caused your terror of being searched?”

“Yes.”

He unfolded it. “I thought you agreed to stop spying.”

“I know, but this was too important to pass up. You’ll understand once you read it.”

He removed his snuffbox, flicked open the magnifying glass outlined with phosphorescence, and held it over the paper.

She gasped. “That’s what I was seeing in the garden. It truly does glow in the dark. How does it work?”

He forgot to answer her as he scanned the contents of the paper twice. “This is invaluable. This is incredible.” He gazed out the window, unseeing. This was proof the British were using their power to suppress, not protect.

“May I see your snuffbox?”

Without thinking he passed it to her. “Where did you find this?” He folded the paper. It was exactly what Johnson had been hoping for, and Ginny had found it. Not him.

“In the study. I found it by accident. I was looking for you.”

He had been upstairs, rummaging through Colonel Farley’s bedchamber. “Can you move to the front seat for a moment?”

“Hmm?” She studied her hand under the magnifying glass.

“Ginny, raise your arse for a moment.” He lifted her up, ignoring her huff of indignation, deposited her on the front seat, and slipped the paper into the compartment beneath the back one.

“There.” He sat back down and reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “Now if they want to search us, they’ll find nothing.” He took the snuffbox from her hand and closed it.

“That is the most amazing machine.”

He slipped it into his pocket. “You’re the amazing one, Ginny, but please, no more spying.”

She rested against him, nestling her head against his shoulder. “Do you worry about me?”

“Aye.”

“You’re wrong about Josiah being the thief.”

“I hope so.”

H
idden in the shadows, he saw the carriage roll to a stop in front of the Ashford home. Quincy Stanton jumped out, followed by Miss Munro. The pair scurried to the front door.

Interesting
. The saucy Miss Munro likes a quick frolic in a carriage.
He would remember that for the future. Even so, it might not be the sole reason they ran away. Did Quincy have a reason to avoid being searched? A closer watch was warranted from now on. Meanwhile, he had to stash the jewelry somewhere and return to the party to be searched.

He approached the carriage, careful to remain unseen. With open windows, it was a simple matter to reach inside. He stuffed the ring and necklace between the cushion and side wall of the carriage. He would retrieve the goods later.

As he withdrew his hand, an idea struck him.
Of course!
He was a genius. He would plant one of his stolen items amongst Quincy Stanton’s possessions, then alert the authorities. Everyone would believe the bastard was the Boston Burglar.

Quincy would hang. He’d be rid of the bastard once and for all.

And Virginia Munro would be his.

Wednesday, November 15, 1769

“T
his here be the paper for today.” Josiah handed the sheet of newspaper to Virginia, then settled down at the table to write his assignment for the day—what he would do if stranded on an island like Robinson Crusoe.

Virginia scanned the paper, which for three days in a row had printed the information she had stolen from the Ashfords’ study. A surge of pride shot through her. She, a woman, had successfully aided the Colonial cause.

All of Boston was in an uproar, demanding the immediate withdrawal of British troops. The paper reported a number of brawls between apprentices and British soldiers. She could only hope the British would leave before serious injury occurred.

Aunt Mary had been greatly relieved that Quincy had taken care of the matter and informed his uncle. She refused to see Edward Stanton until she had the money to pay him back.

Virginia’s thoughts turned to Quincy as they so often did these days, flooding her with warmth and excitement. Quin’s arms around her, his fingers caressing her, his lips moving on her. She took a deep breath and fanned herself with the paper. She had accused him of spying, but he had avoided speaking of it. If only he would learn to trust her.

“Finished,” Josiah announced. “Can we read me book now?”

“Yes, but first, I have something for you. Your reading has so greatly improved, I believe you deserve this small reward.” She reached through the slit in her skirt and removed a small package from the sewing pocket tied around her waist underneath the skirt.

Josiah ripped off the ribbon and homespun cloth to discover his present. “A sack?” He wrinkled his nose.

“A sack of marbles. Look inside.”

He upended the sack, shaking a few marbles into his outstretched hand. His eyes lit up. “I ain’t never had nuthin’ like this before.”

She winced as she rose to her feet. “That was three negatives in one sentence.”

He grinned. “Then I’m improving?”

“Hah! You rascal, you know better than that.” Her laughter stopped abruptly when he flung his arms around her waist for a tight hug. She closed her eyes and hugged him back. He had not disappointed her. When she and Quincy had returned to the ball, he had already been searched and declared innocent.