by Jenny Brown
How soon? Would that farewell she’d promised him come even sooner than he expected? Somehow, he’d interpreted the careful truce they’d arrived at as meaning she’d be staying with him until he had to end it.
He reached into his pocket. “Would you allow me to give you something for him?”
“Oh yes. My pride would be a poor thing if it let Danny freeze to death.”
He extracted a handful of coins from his pocket and gave them to her. She made her way over to the boy and led him to the shadows, where she could give him the money unobserved.
Perhaps it would be better for them both if she did leave for America now and pursued her dream of freedom in a land where no one would know what she’d been or what mistakes she’d made, for he was becoming far too attached to her. Just the thought of losing her had sent pain stabbing through his gut.
But as she concluded her business with the crossing boy and glided back toward him, he gave up pretending he could be that selfless. Wrong as it was, he couldn’t stop himself from giving in to the selfish desire to hold on to her as long as he could even though barely a week remained before he must set off for the nabob’s, retrieve the jewel, and board the merchantman that would take him back to India.
But he must not let his selfish wishes get in the way of her doing what was right for her. He’d already been selfish enough. So when she returned after waving farewell to the crossing boy, he said in as casual a tone as he could manage, “Those notes I gave you at the coffeehouse are yours still. You could use them to buy your passage to America right now.”
“Is that what you wish me to do?”
“No.” He couldn’t keep the vehemence out of his voice. “But perhaps it would be best.”
“Because you don’t want me anymore?”
“Because I want you too much. But I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been hurt enough.”
She sighed. “I will indeed be glad to set off for America, and breathe, at last, the air of liberty.”
He bit down hard, trying to give her no sign of how much it hurt that she could imagine herself happy without him.
“But I won’t go yet—I will stay with you until you have to leave me.” She gently stroked his cheek, rough with early-morning stubble. “Or until you no longer want me.”
“That time will never come,” he said quietly. “But I must thank you for giving me another chance. I couldn’t have borne it if you’d left me now, when I’ve shown you only my worst side. There is more to me than my anger.”
She smiled up at him through thick lashes, but her voice held no trace of flirtatiousness as she replied, “There is more to me than my impulsiveness. You aren’t the only one who’s shown off the worst parts of his character.”
He nodded. “We must start out fresh and live up to the vows we made to each other when we made our truce.”
“I will tell the truth, and you will believe me,” she said with a hopeful smile.
“Yes. And you will not abandon me without warning.”
They walked on in silence for a few paces. Then he said, “Because we are so alike—and not only in our anger—perhaps we can heal each other.”
“Perhaps we can. You are the only one who has ever pledged me even this much loyalty.”
He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it gently, filled once again with the intoxicating sense that they were two halves of one whole and bound to each other by more than just the casual vows of a single evening.
After he had returned her to her lodgings, Trev stayed only as long as it took to make sure she got into the room safely before he took his leave of her. Temperance was relieved he had made no attempt to renew the physical attentions that had been so treacherous for them both. Despite the revolution in her feelings for him, she would need time to mull over what had passed between them and prepare herself for what must happen next.
For it would be very different, the next time they joined their bodies. Until now, in all her dealings with him, she had acted out of fear, convinced she was the weaker one and that he had the advantage over her. But she’d been wrong. What she’d learned about him tonight had changed everything. She knew now why he had pursued her so relentlessly after she had left him so suddenly that first night in the alley—and it wasn’t what she’d thought.
He wasn’t a callous man seeking revenge for the tricks she’d played on him, a man she must defend herself against, using every weapon that she had, but something else entirely: a lonely man, convinced he must not feel anything but lust. A man whose deepest wound, inflicted by abandonment, had never healed.
She had torn that wound open when she’d lured him in, and then deceived him. She’d danced a dance of betrayal, not knowing what it meant to him, until it had all come out in that brutal act of union that had frightened them both and made them face the price they paid for hiding from their pain.
It must be different now. She could no longer toy with him, knowing what she knew. And he, too, knew how close she was to the edge, for he’d taken the measure of her desperation when he’d drawn her away from the river. If they were to meet again, naked in body and soul, they must leave off wounding. They must find some path to joy besides their rage. She longed to attempt it, yet she feared the price she might pay should it succeed. For no matter what happiness they might find together, he must leave her, impossibly soon. How would she go on alone if she let him take her heart along with him?
The deep sleep that eventually claimed her was terminated by a sharp rap on her door.
“Message for you, Miss,” a rough voice called out.
A message? It must be from Trev. She hoped he wrote to say he would be back to see her soon. Sleep had restored much of her confidence and even more of her desire for him. But when she tore open the note, it wasn’t from Trev. And it wasn’t good news.
Scrawled in a spindly hand, the note said, “Meet me at five tonight at Mother B’s and the crossing boy will stay safe.” It was signed with an S terminated at the top by a forked tongue. Snake.
Her stomach lurched. She should have known better than to think she could ignore him. She hadn’t kept her concern for the boy a secret, so of course they’d used it against her. The Weaver knew everything about everyone. That was what gave him so much power. And she didn’t doubt for a moment that they’d carry out their threat against Danny if she didn’t obey. They’d given her no choice but to do their bidding. She couldn’t let the child pay the price for her rebellion. She’d have to find out what Snake wanted from her.
When she arrived at the bawdy ken to which Snake had summoned her, he took her into one of the lavishly furnished rooms the girls used to entertain their customers and lounged back against the scarlet satin quilt that covered the bed, his gray clothing and angular form contrasting strangely with the lush furnishings.
“The prancer’s using you, moll,” he said.
The way his words echoed those of Mother Bristwick chilled her. “For what?”
“The usual—and for something else I ain’t gonna tell you ’bout. But ’taint love that’s driving him, I promise you that, and it will go better for you if you choose to go in with our lot. We got your Randall to safety, and we could do the same for you.”
“And if I don’t?”
Snake shrugged. “You’ll regret it. And so will the little crossing boy.”
She felt the ground shifting beneath her feet. “What do I have to do if I go in with you?”
“Stay with the prancer and await orders. We ain’t asking you to do nothing you ain’t doing already.”
“Will I have to harm him?” She couldn’t face that. Would they force her to?
“No,” Snake replied. “Just keep him busy for a while. Distracted, if you know what I mean. And do what we tell you when the time comes.”
They probably would want her to harm him. And when the time came, they’d make it so she had to unless she could think of some way out in the meantime. But she must give Snake no hint she didn�
�t believe his reassurances.
Carefully, she asked, “If I do what you ask, will you swear Danny stays safe?”
“Of course, moll. The Weaver keeps his word. Go along with us, and the crossing boy will be fine.”
She bit her lip, calculating the chances, and came to a decision. “I’ll stay with the prancer.”
Snake raised an eyebrow. “And take our orders?”
“If it will keep Danny safe.” It was a good thing she hadn’t promised Trev she’d tell the truth to everyone.
Snake did that thing with his lips that was supposed to be a smile. “I knew you’d see reason. Now go back to your lodgings and keep him sweet. You’ll hear from us next when it’s time.”
When Trev awoke the next morning, he turned his attention reluctantly to the myriad of practical details he must take care of before he could embark for India. His task was complicated by the need to keep his mother from knowing the truth, for she couldn’t be depended upon to keep a secret, and the safety of the jewel required that no one know his plans.
But even with the weight of affairs pressing in on him, he couldn’t stop thinking about the disturbing way Mother Bristwick had looked at Temperance. For all of her bravado, the girl was so vulnerable. It shamed him to realize that, little as she had, Temperance had given more thought to what would happen to the crossing boy she’d taken under her wing, after she was gone, than he’d given to what she would face when he departed. It was a horrifying omission. She might even now be carrying his child.
His mother greeted him at breakfast with the news that her astrologer had relented and agreed to help her with her matchmaking, having, apparently, found someone who might be the perfect match for him. He was too distracted to pay much attention to her babbling though he wondered that Her Ladyship should have made such an offer after what had transpired during his visit to the Refuge. Perhaps she hoped marriage would put an end to his wild ways.
But whatever her thinking, he knew, as his mother and Her Ladyship did not, that his impending departure would put an end to all their scheming. So after he’d spent the polite quarter of an hour with his mother that etiquette demanded, he excused himself, bathed and dressed, and set off to visit the major. He would appeal to him for help to ensure that when he must leave her behind, Temperance would be well taken care of.
Though it was already noon when Trev rapped on his door, Major Stanley was just getting out of bed.
“My lad,” he boomed out in greeting. “I envy you your robust constitution. Behold in my sorry frame the price to be paid for a life of dissipation. I am but a shadow of a man, and my head pounds like a bloody foundry.”
“Perhaps this will help,” Trev said, pulling out the bottle of brandy he’d brought as a gift.
“Brandy, by gad. And French, too, I warrant. That’s as fine a cure as ever a doctor prescribed. I say. I may live to see another summer yet.”
The major uncorked the brandy, fetched two glasses, and after a sip, pronounced it “capital.” Only then did he remark, “There’s a glow about you today, and it’s no wonder. She’s a stunner, that woman of yours, despite her nimble fingers. No wonder you went haring after her last night. Your air of satisfaction tells me you charmed her back into your nest.”
He flung himself into a chair and held up his glass. “Oh fortunate youth, to have such joys before you. Truth be told, I envy you more than your robust constitution. My advancing decrepitude makes it unlikely I shall ever attract such a splendid example of femininity, no matter what I could pay her.”
“You’re not as far gone as all that,” Trev assured him. “In a dim light, you might still pass for forty if you keep on your helmet to hide your bald spot.”
“Insolent whelp!” His friend slapped him on the back. “I’m only thirty-seven, and my barber tells me I have the hair of a man of thirty.”
“Then there is hope for you yet, though your envy of me is misplaced. My orders have changed. I shall have to leave Temperance behind before the end of the week and return to my posting in India.”
A look of real concern swept over his friend’s face. “Rotten luck that, but why?”
“You know the military. No reason given, to be executed with all dispatch and kept secret at the highest level of confidentiality.”
“Ah.” The major momentarily assumed a more serious look. “My lips are sealed. But that is hard luck. You’ve barely disembarked.”
“I’m not looking forward to the voyage, but you know the regiment is my real home, not this soggy island. In truth, I should rejoice to be returning so soon were it not that I must leave Temperance behind.”
“Then take her along with you, my boy. It will cost you next to nothing to keep her in India. You can give her a fine little bungalow and so many servants she need never again lift a hand. She’ll think herself in paradise.”
“Not possible. I’ve promised my mother to wed as soon as I can, and I wouldn’t insult my wife by keeping a mistress. I can’t take Temperance halfway across the world only to abandon her when I marry.”
“No. I suppose you couldn’t. Though I shouldn’t imagine she would have trouble finding another protector when you moved on. She is a spectacular piece of womanflesh. I’d take her in a moment if she’d have me.”
It was with difficulty that Trev kept his clenched fist by his side. Temperance was his.
“No insult intended,” the major added hastily. “You really do care about her, don’t you?”
“Too much for my own good. I’ve never before met anyone like her.”
“I had a girl like that in Bombay, back in ’11,” the major said wistfully. “A taking little thing, a quartermaster’s daughter. Had disgraced herself with some cornet and been cast off by her family. We spent a month together, and I should have been happy to spend my life with her, but my mother wouldn’t countenance such a match. Mother died not long after that, but by then Kitty had taken the money she’d saved and sailed off. I’ve never found anyone else to match her.”
The major contemplated his brandy for a moment, then took another sip. “It’s a damned shame, isn’t it, that the ones we love to bed aren’t the ones we can wed.”
“A damned shame, indeed. But would you truly have wed her had your mother not been so opposed?”
“Oh yes. We were so happy together, and she was used to a soldier’s life, having been bred to it. I should have been a different man had I married her. She might have been the making of me.”
Trev almost quipped that rather than being the making of him, a wife might have kept him from making his many pleasurable conquests, but a certain softness in his friend’s eye warned him away from the topic.
It had never occurred to him that the major might have wished for any other life than that of a hedonistic bachelor. Indeed, Trev had envied him for not being, as he was, obliged to wed. This new insight into his friend’s character startled him. But neither of them was comfortable with unnecessary displays of emotion, so Trev moved swiftly to bring the conversation to a conclusion.
“Will you keep an eye on Temperance after I’m gone?” he asked. “I can think of no one else to whom I would feel confident entrusting her safety.”
“I’d be honored to.” A sheepish look swept over Stanley’s bluff features. “You know I was only jesting about taking her on myself.”
“Of course. You’ve always been a loyal friend.”
An uneasy look passed over the major’s features, and he looked away. Why? The major was his best friend. Why had he reacted so strangely to hearing Trev praise him for his loyalty? Then it flashed across his mind that perhaps his friend was embarrassed because he still harbored a less-than-loyal yearning for Temperance. If that was the explanation, it was understandable. Temperance would tempt any red-blooded male.
But now that the matter had been brought out into the open, Trev knew he could trust the major not to violate the bonds of friendship. He explained the financial arrangements he intended to make for Temperance a
nd extracted from the major the promise that he would personally see that she got on the ship for America safely and in possession of sufficient funds to keep her—and any possible outcome of their dalliance—in comfort, once she arrived. The major made a few more helpful suggestions and promised to treat Temperance with the consideration he would have given his own daughter.
His conscience relieved, Trev left his friend nursing his brandy with a wistful look that made him wonder if the older man’s thoughts were still lingering on those long-ago days in Bombay and the woman who had slipped away.
It was only later, when he was on his way to meet with his solicitor to wrap up some important matters regarding his estate, that Trev had the sudden, overwhelming, vision of himself a few decades hence, guzzling brandy at noon and booming with false heartiness as he told some other young man of the woman who might have changed his life if he’d only had the courage to wed her.
He didn’t want to be that man.
And, as the words that had started the major off on his reminiscence came bounding back into his memory, Trev knew, with a certainty that stopped him in his tracks, that he didn’t have to be that man.
Why hadn’t he seen it before?
He could wed Temperance. There was no reason he must marry one of the girls his mother had been pressing on him. He must wed to secure his mother’s fortune in case he didn’t survive her, but any son born to him in lawful matrimony would do that, including any son born to him and Temperance.
He need only tell his mother that he had wed the daughter of a wealthy man from the North. If he waited until he returned to India to do it, she’d assume he’d chosen one of the notorious “fishing fleet” of women who come out husband hunting to India. He need never reveal the real circumstances under which he’d done his wooing.
The idea, once formed, obsessed him. But he must not get ahead of himself. What made him think Temperance would wish to marry him? It had taken all his persuasive powers to keep her from abandoning him last night. With what he’d shown her of his darker side, she had no reason to believe he could be a loving husband.