The Rogue’s Prize (27 page)

“I fear — what I mean to say is — ”

“You can tell me anything. Don’t be

afraid to speak your heart, Constance.”

There was only one way to say it.

“I may be with child.”

Simon’s eyes grew larger than the

cannon balls she’d seen on the
Octavia
’s

deck and then narrowed with an intensity

she’d never seen before.

“I understand if you want nothing

more to do with me,” she confided,

sensing she’d lost his respect. Her heart

clenched. “I’m a disgrace. No one

knows that more than I.”

He reached for her shoulders and

embraced

her

close.

“You

misunderstand, Constance,” he said.

“Have I not already brought enough

scandal to our door?”

“Nonsense. Nonsense,” he cooed.

After a slight silence, he asked, “Who’s

the child’s father?” His voice was

strained. His expression unreadable.

“You must already know.”

“Sexton,” he hissed. His voice held

a finality that made her cringe.

“How do you know that name?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is,” she said. “No one

can know the truth.” That within

Thomas’s arms, for a few short days,

she’d felt safe. That she’d loved a man

and now feared for her unborn child. “I

fear this news has forced Papa’s hand

where Burton is concerned. Truth be

told, I believe it will only persuade him

to see a marriage between us come to

speedy fruition,” she confided.

Simon drew back and massaged her

hands. “No question.”

“My behavior has been shameful,”

she tearfully admitted. “I’ve decided to

run away rather than impress my

disgrace upon the family.”

“No,” he said abruptly. He shook

his head and broke away, running his

hands through his hair. “Where would

you go? What would you do to support

yourself and the child? No. No,” he

repeated. “I cannot allow it.”

“What do you suggest? That I

sacrifice my life? Willingly marry a man

who would more than likely kill my

child?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” His face

reddened. Then, after a moment’s pause,

fire faded from his eyes and sanity took

hold. He took a few deep breaths.

“There is another way.”

“No, the die has been cast.” Tears

of humiliation cascaded down her

cheeks. Simon had already sacrificed his

relationship with her father for her

scheme to reach Lydia. She couldn’t

bear to watch him suffer more on her

behalf.

“I can convince someone to take

Burton’s place. It will take some doing,

but it can be done. First, you must

promise not to run away.”

“I cannot.” She blinked, unable to

make that kind of vow. “What can you

possibly do?” she asked. “The ball is in

just under a week and Papa plans to

announce my engagement then.”

“I’ve got a suitable idea. One I’m

sure will please him immensely.” He set

about straightening his jacket and cast

his gaze about the room, looking for his

gloves.

“What idea?” she asked, barely

capable of hope.

“If I can find another willing man to

ask for your hand, would you accept?”

The question startled her. What if

the man was an old curmudgeon? Was it

even possible to find someone that

would be willing to supply her father’s

financial demands? She had no dowry,

nothing to separate her from the crowd

of tempting young misses. Placing her

hand over her abdomen, Constance

wondered who would marry a woman

already carrying another man’s child.

Her baby needed a protector. If she did

not marry, he would be without one. If

she did, how long would her child

survive?

Simon grew impatient to be off.

“Would you accept a man of my

choice?”

Their eyes locked. His hopeful,

hers welling with tears. “If I approve of

the gentleman — then yes.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders

and hugged her close. “Are sure you are

with child? Perhaps your fears aren’t

warranted.”

“Morty says we shall know soon

enough.” She choked on a sob. “In either

case, I’m in desperate need of a

husband.”

“Then we shall activate a plan to

outwit your father and Burton, at once. If

we succeed, I guarantee you a better life

than you ever imagined possible.”

Constance hugged him close, never

wanting to be parted. Her heart raced

with anticipation. Simon had always

come to her rescue. She needed him now

more than ever.

“Thank you. Thank you, Uncle!” she

exclaimed, feeling at peace for the first

time in weeks.

“Do not thank me until the deed is

done,” he confessed.

“But where will you find such a

man? Do you already have a name? Will

you have to go far to find him?”

He kissed her cheek tenderly. “A

name and the perfect fit, my dear. Never

doubt it. You’ve placed your confidence

in me and I will not trifle it away. But

you must be patient.”

“Make haste then, uncle. I’ve not

much time to lose.”

• • •

his list. Tired and losing patience, he

swallowed another cup of ale he’d

acquired at the Cat’s Hole and scanned

the unruly crowd, searching for familiar

faces. Jacko had sent word that the name

Josiah Cane had fluctuated about taverns

near the warehouses along the Thames

for days. He’d already been to the Red

Lion and the Anchor. Apparently Cane

had been frequenting establishments

along the coast, spreading rumors of a

certain lady’s demoralizing stay upon a

pirate ship recently confiscated by the

war office. Day by day, whispers of this

particular lady’s conquests were passed

along London’s inner city streets.

Inwardly, Percy wanted to throttle Cane

for putting Constance in such an

indelicate position. It was only a matter

of time before his insinuations reached

the ton.

Wanting to put an end to the string

of gossip, he’d spent the past few days

patronizing

various

drinking

and

gambling establishments in the guise of

Thomas Sexton. He was known along the

docks for being unmanageable, which

made him easily accepted by the rowdy

patrons.

His disguise took more care now

that he was clean shaven, but, thanks to

Ollie’s skill with theatrics after a hiatus

with the opera house, it was not an

impossible feat to pull off. Skilled at

deception, no one seemed the wiser as

Percy grasped his mug in a meaty fist

and chugged down the last drop in one

gulp. Crashing the cup on the counter, he

caught the attention of a redheaded

barmaid.

“What’s your pleasure, gov’na?”

she crooned, winking.

Here was his chance. He grabbed

her by the neck and planted a hearty kiss

on her lips. “Aye,” he said. “You’ve a

pair of lips to tempt a starving man. My

cup is empty, wench. What say you?”

Shifting her ample bosom against

his chest, she posed what he assumed

was her most attractive enticement.

“What’ll you have?”

Unfazed, his eyes scanned the room

over the top of the tart’s head. A

movement caught his attention. A man

stood, clamoring to leave against an

assailment of protests. Percy hugged the

barmaid close, feigning interest, all the

while measuring up the man as he

chortled to his friends.

“I’ve a mind to accept what you’re

offering, lass. But who’s making such a

ruckus?”

Eager for attention, the wench

laughingly craned her head around his

shoulder. “That gent be no stranger here.

Name’s Cane. At least that’s the name he

uses. One can never be sure with these

ruffians.”

“Josiah Cane?” he probed, the

sound slipping easily off his tongue.

“One and the same.” She winked.

“Do you know the gent?”

Know him? He wanted to pulverize

the man.

“Shall we go up to my room for a

tup?” she asked, grinding against him.

Percy took a coin out of his pocket

and smiled devilishly as her eyes lit up.

Depositing the gold piece between her

breasts, he tapped the tip of her nose.

She laughed suggestively, shaking her

bosom to ensure the money was secure.

He grinned and peeled her arms

from his neck. “That’s a lovely offer,

but, unfortunately, I have business to

attend and must see it fully serviced.”

She shook her curls, whipping them

about her face, and licked her lips.

“Come love, can you not spare an hour

for your own servicing? You’re such a

strong buck,” she said, stroking his arms

in appreciation. “Built like a stone wall,

you are. I’d do anything for a man like

you.”

“Anything?” he asked, suddenly

intrigued.

“Yes,” she panted, her pouting lips

poised for another kiss.

He bent near her ear and whispered

his most heartfelt desire. Her eyes

rounded

then

narrowed

with

understanding. She nodded and moved

toward the inner room, swaying her hips

seductively, glancing back over her

shoulder to ensure he watched her

performance. One or two men slapped

her buttocks along the way. Apparently

the affront did not affect her because she

laughed and continued toward her target,

checking as she did so to make sure the

gold piece did not loosen from its hiding

place.

Josiah Cane stood in the midst of a

crowd, his drunken revelry absorbing

quite a bit of attention. Patrons’ eyes

blazed with riotous laughter when the

barmaid neared him and grabbed him by

the groin. The redhead draped herself

along Cane’s side, sliding her hands

over his manhood to his chest and back

again. Patrons egged her on, cajoling her

to grope them when she was finished

with Cane.

“Get away from me!” the spindly

man roared aloud.

Laughter echoed off the rafters. The

barmaid flinched as Cane tried to swat

her away like an insect. Unperturbed, the

woman made a comment about his

inability to rouse to her ministrations.

Percy watched as Cane shoved past the

brilliant actress and then pressed his

way through the crowd until he reached

the door and broke through it at a

breakneck pace. The barmaid turned

back toward Percy, smiling like a feline

intent on cleaning her fur. Percy nodded

his thanks and meandered toward the

door. Exiting the building, he sighted

Cane walking briskly in the distance.

Ducking here and there, Percy followed

him down Thames Street and into Black

Raven Alley, keeping to the shadows.

Fog descended upon the street,

casually slipping over Cane as he

stepped into the opaque haze. Percy

quickened his pace. Wafts of moisture

clung to his skin, bringing with it a chill

that seeped into his bones. Thoughts of

Celeste and Constance were his constant

companions, challenging him not to lose

Cane as he monitored the man’s

advancement past warehouses toward

the wharf.

Every now and again, he was

forced to duck out of sight. When Percy

was sure he hadn’t been spotted, he

slipped back out onto the street, and

resumed his chase, darting in and out of

alleyways, and climbing a stone

partition until he stopped at a deserted

warehouse. Hiding within the entrance

of a white-washed facade, adjacent to

Cane, Percy watched the man knock

once on the ramshackle masonry, then

three consecutive times. The door grated

open slowly. Percy slinked closer,

repositioning himself to better glimpse

the man who appeared on the threshold.