Her escort glanced down at her. “I am acquainted with him.”
She stopped and he turned to her in question.
“I am insufferably rude,” she said.
He lifted an eyebrow in question, humor softening his lips once again.
“I neglected to introduce myself.” She held out a hand to him. “I am Josephine Barclay,” she said with a shiver of trepidation. This was the first time she had ever used her real given name. Since arriving on St. Kitts last year, she’d been going by her mother’s name. Anne Barclay wasn’t much of a stretch from the personage of Josephine Kent, but as Thomas Kent was safely imprisoned in England, it had seemed unnecessary to choose a name she might find difficult to answer to. And it was a part of her. She’d had to travel halfway around the world to escape her abusive husband. She was damned if he’d make her become someone else as well!
But for some inexplicable reason, today, with this man, she wanted to claim her real name. It was ridiculous, she knew, but—well, it was simply ridiculous, but there it was.
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Barclay. I am Hungerford Spooner.” He offered his hand and as she placed hers in it, she noticed how small her gloved hand looked in his larger bare one. It should have frightened her; Thomas Kent had had large hands and he knew how to use them. Instead, however, she felt protected.
She glanced up at his face, a shiver of delight washing over her as she felt distinctly feminine, womanly, attractive; feelings she had not experienced in far too many years to count.
Mr. Spooner smiled at her and dropped her hand, indicating they should continue walking.
Josephine was mortified that she should be so affected by this man while he was so clearly unaffected, and she quickened her pace to shorten the time he would have to spend seeing her home.
A few minutes later, they stood in front of Theo’s house, a large, white, one-story building with a red roof, wide windows, and a deep verandah.
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Spooner. Can I—that is, would you like a glass of lemonade?”
He glanced sideways at her. Though slavery had been outlawed more than fifteen years ago, there was little social interaction between the white and black inhabitants of St. Kitts. She wondered what he made of her invitation.
“Perhaps another time. I’m afraid I must return to my office for I have an appointment,” he said with a smile.
Josephine felt herself smiling in return, which was really quite silly, but she seemed unable to stop herself. Something about Hungerford Spooner made her feel like a flower opening to the sun. It was quite the most unsettling feeling.
She nodded a farewell and hurried up the brick path. She turned when she reached the large covered porch to see Mr. Spooner walking back down the street. She watched until he was lost among the greenery that lined the road, then turned to enter the cool dark of the house.
Chapter Two
“Was it hot out, Miss Anne? Shall I fetch you some punch?”
Josephine smiled at Molly, Theo’s housekeeper. The woman had been a slave of Theo’s mentor, Mr. Borst, since she was born but had stayed on after the sale of slaves was forbidden and through the years of “apprenticeship,” when slaves essentially had to earn their freedom working for their former owners.
Josephine suddenly wondered what her brother paid Molly and if it was enough for her to live on.
“Some punch would be lovely if it’s not too much trouble, Molly.”
“Sit ye in the back parlor. It’s shaded now and will be the coolest room. I’ll fetch you something cold to wash the dust down.”
Josephine turned toward the back hall but changed her mind and followed Molly into the kitchen where Cook was chopping vegetables.
“Molly, do you know a Mr. Hungerford Spooner?”
Molly and the other woman exchanged a surprised glance. Cook took a sudden interest in washing a pot on the far side of the room and Molly busied herself pouring a glass of punch before turning back to Josephine.
“I do know Mr. Spooner. How did you come to meet him, Miss?”
Josephine smiled her thanks for the drink Molly handed her and took a sip.
“I, ah, grew overheated in the square when I was returning home,” she improvised. “I didn’t want to faint in the street so I entered the first business I saw. It was Mr. Spooner’s warehouse. I suppose I must have seemed quite fragile for he offered to see me home. Is he a merchant?”
Molly busied herself in the pantry and with fetching a plate. Though the housekeeper was not proving talkative about Mr. Spooner, Josephine found herself insatiably curious to know more about him.
She continued, “I’ve not seen him before and by now, I believe I’ve met everyone in Basseterre.”
“Surely not everyone, Miss,” Molly said, offering a plate of biscuits. Josephine took one even though she wasn’t hungry and stared expectantly at the housekeeper.
“He’s more of a mover of goods, Miss,” she finally said.
“Who is?” inquired Chester, coming into the kitchen with a large basket of what turned out to be oysters.
“You’d best not drip muddy water on my clean floor, old man,” Molly said threateningly.
“Old man? How many old men do you see bringing you oysters the size of these?” he asked, dumping them into Molly’s large tin wash basin.
“Now he’s bragging about the size of his oysters,” Molly muttered to Cook, rolling her eyes.
Josephine spewed crumbs as she tried to contain her laugh.
“You shouldn’t speak so crudely in front of Miss Anne,” Chester scolded.
“I’m scarcely an innocent young miss,” Josephine said, then pressed her lips together. As the unmarried lady she portrayed, she was certainly supposed to be innocent of such bawdy humor. None of the servants save Chester knew about her past. She glanced at Molly, but the housekeeper was too busy chastising Chester to have noticed her gaffe. Or perhaps, Josephine reflected, Molly wasn’t so concerned about what unmarried ladies shouldn’t know. That was far more likely, she decided. Life on the island seemed eminently more practical than it had in England.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting oysters for supper now that you’ve brought them. You’re not trying to improve your potency, are you?” Molly said scornfully, raising her eyebrows as she glanced meaningfully at Chester’s trousers.
Josephine bit her knuckle to keep from laughing aloud.
“There’s nothing wrong with my—” Chester began before clapping his mouth shut. “You’re a harsh woman, Molly,” he muttered.
“Oh, come now, if a man can’t take a little teasing, a woman will know he’s not worth her time. Men who can laugh at themselves are strong. Inside, you know?” she asked Josephine. “That’s the kind of man a woman wants in her bed.”
Josephine thought of the humorless Thomas Kent. He’d taken any perceived slight as a grave insult and Josephine had usually paid the price. She nodded at Molly.
Chester appeared flummoxed by Molly’s statement and so to distract him, Josephine asked him, “Do you know Mr. Hungerford Spooner?”
Chester dragged his gaze from Molly. “Spooner? He’s in shipping. That’s all I know. Why do you ask?”
“He did me a favor today. I should like to thank him is all.”
Chester frowned. “What sort of favor?”
Josephine sighed. She knew she was going to have to tell Chester about Josiah Benjamin. Chester had been her friend Amanda Howard’s servant, but he had assigned himself Josephine’s protector and had escorted her all the way from England. He now did odd jobs for Theo and continued to serve as Josephine’s self-appointed bodyguard. Today was the first day he’d not escorted her on her trip into town and she knew he would not only blame himself for not being there, but he would make sure she never went anywhere unattended again and except for her brush with Josiah Benjamin, she’d enjoyed her bit of freedom today.
She gave him a look that said she would explain later as Molly said, “Mr. Spo
oner helped Miss Anne home after she grew overheated.”
“Perhaps I shall take him a basket of jams tomorrow,” Josephine said.
“That’s not necessary, Miss. You’ll embarrass him.”
“Why? Would it offend his wife?” she asked, mentally cringing at how obvious she sounded.
After a long moment, during which Molly needlessly tidied up the plate of biscuits, she said, “I will deliver your sweets and your thanks tomorrow for you miss. It will be more proper.”
Jo hid her pout behind her glass. As Molly left the room, she called out, “I’ll go with you! Surely there’s nothing improper about that!”
Molly’s shoulders hunched but otherwise she gave no indication she’d heard Josephine.
“What really happened today?” Chester said as soon as Cook went into the pantry.
As quickly as she could, Josephine relayed her encounter with Josiah Benjamin.
Chester scowled. “And you’re sure it was him?”
Josephine bit her lip and thought. She’d only seen him a few times over the years of her marriage to Thomas Kent. Still—
“Yes. I’m certain. But I’m fairly certain he didn’t recognize me. Otherwise why wouldn’t he have said something?”
Chester’s scowl deepened. “I’ll ask about tomorrow down at the docks if anyone knows why he’s here. Did Spooner rescue you from him?”
She shook her head. “I ran into Mr. Spooner’s warehouse so Benjamin wouldn’t see where I lived. I told Mr. Spooner a strange man had unnerved me and he escorted me home.”
Chester nodded. “He’s a good man.”
“You know him then?” Josephine asked hopefully.
Chester shrugged. “Know of him.” He stood and picked up the empty oyster basket. “I’ll have to accompany you from now on. At least until we know Benjamin is no longer a threat.”
A shiver ran up Josephine’s spine at Chester’s ominous tone. She’d never figured out why the older man had given up his life in England to serve as her bodyguard, but from what little she’d learned of his past, she suspected he’d had a female relative suffer at the hands of her husband. She feared the worst but Chester clammed up anytime she tried to pry.
The next morning at breakfast, Josephine’s plans to see Mr. Spooner fell through when Molly informed her that he’d set sail at dawn for Nevis, the island just south of St. Kitts.
“Oh?” Josephine said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “How do you know, Molly?”
“Heard it at the market this morning when I was fetching eggs.”
“Heard what this morning?” Josephine’s brother Theo walked into the breakfast room, his hair still damp and his cheeks still red from his morning shave.
“Lady business, Mister Theo. Nothing to concern you,” Molly said, fixing him a plate of food and easily diverting his attention.
Josephine found her own attention not so easily swayed from thoughts of Hungerford Spooner. Never in her life had the thought of any man elicited such fascination, such quivery, nervous feelings in her stomach.
She had been a young woman, just learning the intoxicating art of flirtation when her parents had both died suddenly. Any thoughts of boys or flirtations were wiped from her mind as her elder brother Theo and she had struggled to assume responsibility for the family’s small estate. Neither was prepared for the weight of such a duty. At seventeen, her brother had only begun to learn what their father did every day. And while Josephine’s mother had started teaching her about a lady’s duties on a holding such as theirs, in all truth, Josephine had scarcely listened. There had always been more interesting things to focus her attention on in the bucolic beauty of the English countryside.
When they realized that they would be unable to remain on the estate, Theo wrote a letter to their mother’s brother, who had settled years before in the Caribbean. After two years of unanswered letters, their estate was nearly bankrupt. They had no idea if the letters had gone astray or if there was simply no one to answer them.
“I’m going to travel to the islands and find him,” Theo announced one day.
Josephine laughed and turned her attention back to a ledger book that refused to balance. Or rather, refused to balance with a positive amount in the end. Despite their inability to make the estate profitable, she and Theo had learned a great deal and if they only had the capital to survive another year or so, she felt confident they would be able to turn their finances around.
“I’m serious, Jo. It’s the only way to reach Uncle George. Perhaps he’ll return with me or perhaps he’ll simply give us the money we need to buy a small house. We could move to Brighton or London. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Josephine looked up from her ledger to find that her brother was completely serious.
“Theo, that’s mad! It’s not safe! If letters can’t make it across the ocean—”
“I’m not likely to get lost in a mail bag,” he teased. “Letters are a low priority. Paying passengers are treated much better.”
She ignored him. A dozen reasons why her brother couldn’t go bounced around in her mind. The one that made its way out of her mouth was, “We haven’t money to pay the bootmaker. How on earth will you buy a ticket on a ship?” When he didn’t answer, she felt her eyes widen. “You mean to sell our home?”
He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his own. “We can’t make a go of it, duck. We’ve given it all we had and then some. If we sell now, we’ll have enough to pay my passage and keep our creditors at bay until I return.”
Josephine felt dizzy. ‘But—but where will I live?”
“You remember those cousins of father? They came to stay one summer several years ago.”
She frowned, thinking back. “The Debenhams? The ones who hated us?”
“They didn’t hate us,” her brother protested.
“They said father had married beneath his station and that you and I were no better than crude peasant stock!”
Theo dipped his head to the side in acknowledgement of her words. “They also respected father a great deal. I remember them asking his advice on many topics.”
Josephine stared at her brother incredulously. “Cousin Gertrude called me a grimy, uncouth urchin! You can’t mean to ship me off to live with them! They’ll not have me!”
“They will if I offer to pay your expenses and then some,” her brother said, stranding and turning to avoid her gaze.
Josephine’s jaw dropped open. “You propose to pay them to keep me?” A thought occurred to her. “Why not use that money to purchase another ticket and take me with you?”
“It’s not safe,” Theo said quickly.
“But you’re going!” Josephine couldn’t believe her brother would abandon her after all they’d been through.
“I’m a man, Jo. It’s different. If you went, I’d have to keep my eye on you constantly.”
She stood, sputtering with confusion. But then the answer came to her. He wasn’t trying to protect her, he was trying to be rid of her, of the responsibilities that had consumed them for the last two years.
“You’re going on an adventure!”
“What are you—”
“You are! You’re weary of all this,” she said, gesturing broadly to indicate the house, the lands, and herself. “You resent it and you wish to be free of it. Free of me!”
Her brother grabbed her shoulders. “No, Josephine! That’s not true. I want to save us. Provide you a dowry, ensure that one day I’ll be able to take a wife. And I will not risk your life in the process.”
Josephine stared at her brother and knew he was in earnest. But she also knew that she was not wrong. Theo did wish to save them. But he also was looking forward to making his way across the sea without the burden of being an older brother.
She was furious with him for months after he left her with their less-than-pleased relatives. But then the notice appeared in the paper about the ship on which he’d departed being attacked by Portuguese
pirates. There were no reported survivors.
Within two months, Josephine’s cousins had pushed her to accept the offer of marriage from Thomas Kent, a man fifteen years her senior with whom she’d spoken exactly once.
He hit her a few weeks after their wedding. That first time she had excused his behavior. Her husband had received some bad news on a business investment. In the short months they’d known each other, he’d been solicitous if not warm toward her. Perhaps he’d been drinking and was not himself.
As the months turned into years, however, Josephine learned that her husband never drank. She learned that no matter how she tried to second guess his needs and his moods, there were times when he wanted a receptacle for his anger and nothing she could say or do would prevent him from blaming her for the smallest infraction and “punishing” her.
Increasingly worn down and isolated, she’d been a broken spirit for nearly five years. But then she’d met Lady Amanda Howard and her life took a decided turn for the better. She learned that Theo had not died after all, had in fact been writing to her for two years, but that Thomas Kent had kept the correspondence from her. With Lady Howard’s help, she had escaped her husband, escaped England, and found her way to her brother here on St. Kitts.
She smiled at Molly as the housekeeper poured her another cup of tea. No, she thought, putting away her memories. She hadn’t much good experience with romance. But that made her all the more intrigued by how Mr. Spooner made her feel.
“Oh Anne, dear,” Theo said as he wiped his mouth on a serviette. “We’ve been invited to the Lieutenant Governor’s ball tomorrow night. Have you anything suitable to wear?”
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