The Forbidden Lady

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  Quin noted the amused glint in his brother’s eyes. He was certain Clarence had enjoyed his humiliation. Still, his brother undoubtedly had a deeper purpose for spreading the news. He wanted Stanton Shipping.

  All of Boston knew that Quincy was part owner and stood to inherit the entire business eventually. But now, no one would question if Clarence inherited it instead. Not when he was the legitimate one.

  “I say, what happened to your wig, Quincy?”

  “I lost it in the garden.”

  Clarence chuckled. “So that’s where you disappeared to. A frolic in the grass, eh? No wonder you’re not in the mood for Madame Minuette’s. You’ve already rogered a wench tonight. Who was she?”

  Quin curled his hands into fists. “A gentleman never tells.”

  Clarence snorted. “Have you never heard of using a bedchamber upstairs? ’Tis much more pleasant than a tumble underneath a hedge.”

  “I’ve developed a sudden fondness for hedges.”

  The coach pulled to a stop in front of them. Josiah sat on the bench next to the coachman. Quincy descended the brick steps and grasped the door handle.

  “Oh, I know who she was.” Clarence joined him with a grin. “That pretty redhead. What the deuce is her name? She came in from the garden looking like used goods.”

  Quin seized Clarence by the cravat and slammed him against the coach. His brother’s eyes widened.

  Quin twisted the cravat in his hand. “You may impugn my name to the delight of your vicious little mind, but say one word about the lady and you’ll regret it.”

  “Threatening me, are you?” Clarence’s voice rasped. “I would expect as much from a bastard.”

  Quincy heard voices behind him on the porch as more guests left the party. He released his brother. “I will be civil to you in public. Do not expect more.”

  Clarence glared at him. “I do expect more. I expect to have it all.”

  Quin wrenched open the carriage and climbed inside.

  Clarence settled on the seat across from him.

  Quin thumped his walking stick on the ceiling, then laid the cane across his lap as the coach lurched forward. He took a deep breath to control his anger. If only he could deny his brother shelter.

  For over a week now, he’d entertained the enemy. Living with Clarence was increasingly hard to bear. Quin flexed his hands, tightening his grip on the cane. He would have to continue enduring his brother. He was more believable as a Loyalist fop with Clarence in his house and accompanying him to parties.

  Clarence adjusted his cravat and cleared his throat. “You should know better than to threaten me, old boy. Don’t you realize you’ll be working for me someday?”

  Quincy snorted. “You’ll never have Stanton Shipping. Why don’t you try another means of fattening your wallet? Marry an heiress. Priscilla Higgenbottom would do.”

  “She’s not worth as much as a fleet of ships. Besides, Father has his heart set on Stanton Shipping. I won’t disappoint him.” Clarence leaned back against the cushions and whispered, “I dare not disappoint him.”

  A sense of unease settled in Quincy’s gut. His brother sounded fearful, even desperate. Until now, Quin had assumed a favorable court decision would put an end to the family squabble. But now, he wondered—how far was Clarence prepared to go in order to achieve his goal?

  Saturday, October 21, 1769

  “Promise me, Caroline, that whatever happens to me, you and Aunt Mary will stay out of it.” Virginia held fast to a bedpost while her sister tightened the laces on the back of her dress.

  Caroline yawned noisily. “Whatever are you rambling on about? And why did you wake me up? Aunt Mary said we could sleep late on mornings after a party.”

  “I have to be prepared, in case . . .” Virginia’s words drifted off without admitting the possibility of doom. Would Quincy Stanton turn her in as a traitor? He said he wished her no harm, but how could she trust such a man? A man who stuck thumbs in her neckline and tore scarves off her neck? “Quincy Stanton said he would come see me today.”

  Caroline marched around to face Virginia. “And you’re wearing this plain, homespun dress? Have you lost your senses?”

  “No. I simply have no wish to impress the man.”

  Her sister plopped down on the bed. “You mean because of that silly notion of yours that you’ll never marry?”

  Virginia rested her forehead against the carved bedpost. “This has nothing to do with marriage.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve seen how he looks at you. The man is wealthy, Ginny. He’ll have servants. You won’t need to do any chores that—”

  “Lace me up. Please.”

  Caroline crossed her arms with a mutinous lift of her chin.

  Virginia’s confession came out in a whisper. “He accused me of spying.”

  “Good Lord!” Caroline fell back onto the bed, her face as white as the lace-edged pillowcase. “Oh, no. This is terrible.”

  “I know.” Virginia leaned on the bedpost, wrapping her arms around it. “If the worst happens, I want you and Aunt Mary to act like you know nothing about it.”

  “We will not.”

  Virginia pushed away from the bedpost. “You must!” She sat on the bed beside her sister. “There’s no point in all three of us hanging for treason. I will certainly take no comfort in your company at that time, I assure you.”

  “How does he know? We’ve only just begun.”

  “He caught me spying on him, twice.”

  Caroline popped up to a sitting position. “Why would you spy on Quincy Stanton? He doesn’t know anything. ’Tis the officers who would know—”

  “I know, but he was behaving strangely and—he’s not what he seems.”

  Caroline shrugged. “So he has a few secrets, or did. Everyone knows he’s a bastard now.”

  “I don’t see why that should matter, or why everyone takes such delight in talking about it. I’m sure there are thousands of . . . illegitimate people in the world.”

  Caroline gave her a quizzical look. “Are you defending the man?”

  A blush heated Virginia’s cheeks.

  “And you were spying on him?”

  “He was behaving oddly.”

  Caroline gave her a pointed look. “He’s not the only one.” She rose to her feet and threw on a robe over her white woolen nightclothes. “I’ll fetch Aunt Mary. She’ll know what to do.”

  Virginia collapsed on the bed as her sister dashed from the room. What a mess she had made of Aunt Mary’s plan. Perhaps she should leave town immediately, go home to North Carolina and be a spinster for the rest of her life. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the green hills of home, the forests of tall trees, the wild rhododendrons in bloom—but the vision in her mind’s eye took the form of Quincy Stanton.

  Aunt Mary and Caroline burst into the room.

  “Close the door, Caroline.” Mary sat on the bed. “Now, do I understand this correctly? Quincy Stanton accused you of spying and plans to come here today?”

  “Yes.” Virginia sat up. “He says he means me no harm, but I’m not sure I can trust him.”

  “I see. Caroline, tell George to go to Edward Stanton’s house and tell him I must speak to him immediately on an urgent matter.”

  Caroline nodded and left to complete the task.

  “There.” Aunt Mary rose to her feet. “If you cannot talk sense into Quincy Stanton, then his uncle will. Now we must prepare you for his visit. That dress will not do, Ginny. How about the midnight-blue silk?”

  “No!”

  “Why not? You look lovely in it.”

  With a moan, Virginia fell back on the bed. “I cannot wear that one.” The midnight-blue with the low neckline, the one that he had stuck a thumb in.

  “Well, you cannot wear the pale green silk. It has not been repaired yet.” />
  Virginia covered her face, moaning again. After her struggle with the hedge the night before, she had rejoined the party in such a bedraggled state that Aunt Mary had insisted they leave.

  “Caroline’s right.” Mary perched on the bed beside her. “Your behavior has been odd. You never explained how a walk in the garden could tear your skirt or remove your scarf.”

  Virginia lowered her hands. “I wasn’t alone.”

  “Quincy?”

  She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the quilted counterpane. “I went outside to spy on him.”

  “Hmm.” Mary pursed her lips. “I believe there is a simple way out of this.”

  Virginia sat up. “How?”

  “There’s no proof you were spying on British officers and committing treason. Quincy Stanton can only say you were spying on him, an American. There’s no need for you to deny something that innocent. ’Tis no crime to be infatuated with a man.”

  “What?”

  “When he comes, you can simply explain the situation. I’m sure he’ll be very flattered. Any man would—”

  “What?” Virginia leapt to her feet. “Tell Quincy Stanton I’m infatuated with him? Are you crazed?”

  “No, Ginny. I’m trying to save your neck.”

  “I’d rather hang!”

  Aunt Mary rose with a shake of her head and proceeded to the clothespress. “If you don’t tell him, I’ll tell him myself.”

  “ ’Tis not true!”

  Ignoring her, Mary pulled out a lavender-and-white-striped cotton gown with white lace at the neck and sleeves. “This will do.”

  “Oh, no, not that one.”

  Aunt Mary turned to her with an exasperated look. “What is wrong with this one?”

  “ ’Tis lavender.”

  “So?”

  Virginia sighed. How could one man make all her clothes seem unwearable? “All right. I’ll wear it.” She slipped out of her homespun dress and stepped into a lacy white petticoat her aunt passed to her.

  Caroline returned, and soon she and Aunt Mary had Virginia looking her best. Mary bustled out of the room, in a hurry to ensure Mrs. Robertson had something ready to serve the guest when he arrived.

  “Well?” Caroline drew a daffodil-yellow cotton gown over her head. “Did you and Aunt Mary decide what to do?”

  Virginia took hold of the laces on the back of her sister’s gown. “Yes, but I don’t believe I can do it.”

  Caroline peered over her shoulder with a grin. “Why not? Are you supposed to seduce the man?”

  Virginia gave the laces a hard tug before tying them off. “ ’Tis not amusing, Caroline.”

  “I was right? No wonder Aunt Mary told me to make sure you two had privacy.”

  Virginia groaned.

  A knock sounded at the door and Aunt Mary peeked in. “Your first guest has arrived.”

  Caroline giggled.

  “My first guest?” Virginia asked.

  “Aye, Captain Breakwell is in the parlor.”

  Virginia poured two cups of tea, real tea that Aunt Mary kept stored in a small locked chest in the kitchen. It was necessary to behave like the Loyalists that they pretended to be in front of the captain. She handed William a cup and sat across from him.

  “I know it is forward of me to come without an invitation, but I was concerned about you after your hasty departure last night.” He sipped his tea.

  “I’m quite all right, I assure you. ’Twas silly of me to tear my gown in the garden. I do so love roses, but I forget about the thorns.” Virginia heard a muffled giggle from the other side of the door. Caroline, no doubt. Her sister was eavesdropping.

  William cleared his throat. “I fear you and your family missed the great event of the evening. After you left, Mrs. Oldham collapsed into a fit of hysterics, screaming that she’d been robbed.”

  “Oh, my! How dreadful.”

  “Yes.” He drank more tea. “It appears that someone stole into her bedchamber and helped himself to her diamond brooch.”

  “While the party was in progress?”

  “Mm.” He took another sip. “Mr. Oldham checked the servants and their quarters, but ’twas not one of them.”

  Virginia frowned. Was one of Boston’s elite a thief?

  William set down the cup and saucer. “I’m concerned for you and your aunt. With this burglar about, you’re not safe here without a man.”

  “We have George.”

  “Who is he?”

  “A servant.”

  Captain Breakwell stood, tall and resplendent in his scarlet uniform, a brace of silver-mounted pistols jutting from his white belt. “I wish to offer my services to protect you.”

  “I . . . I’m certain we’re not in danger, but I appreciate your concern.”

  “The atmosphere in this town is growing more dangerous by the day.”

  She forced herself to smile. “Come now, Captain. What danger could possibly happen to someone like me?” She jumped when her sister flung open the door.

  Caroline bit her lip to keep from giggling. “Excuse me, Ginny. Your next guest has arrived.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Quincy Stanton strode into the parlor, dressed in his clothes of lavender silk, and stopped short when he spotted Captain Breakwell.

  Virginia curtsied. Blast him. He would choose to wear lavender today. “I believe you two gentlemen have met.”

  Captain Breakwell acknowledged the other with a slight nod of the head.

  “Sink me!” Quincy leaned on his ebony walking stick. “You didn’t tell me you were inviting more than one, Virginia. I thought I would have you all to myself.”

  William inched toward her. “You invited him here?”

  “Of course, she did.” Quincy propped his walking stick against the settee and began to remove his gloves. “I wouldn’t be so rude as to come uninvited.”

  The captain’s face turned pink. “I asked Virginia the question.”

  “I was expecting him, William.” She moved toward the hall. “But it was very kind of you to stop by.”

  Captain Breakwell passed by Quincy Stanton, giving him a suspicious look, and accompanied her to the front door. “Are you certain you want to be alone with that man?”

  She opened the door. “There’s no need for you to worry. Thank you for coming by.”

  With one foot outside, William hesitated. “I didn’t realize the two of you were well acquainted.”

  “Ginny and I have become very close recently.” Quincy glowered at the captain from the parlor door.

  Virginia winced.

  “I see.” William strode down the steps, his face red.

  She closed the door and glared at Quincy Stanton. “How dare you!”

  He pivoted around and marched into the parlor.

  Virginia spotted her sister lurking in the shadows under the staircase. “Caroline, go to the kitchen. So help me, if I catch you by the door, I shall cut off your hair while you sleep.”

  “All right, don’t fuss at me.” Caroline grinned. “Are you going to fuss at Mr. Stanton?”

  “Go!” Virginia took a deep breath to steady her nerves, entered the parlor and closed the door firmly behind her.

  Quincy Stanton was pacing back and forth. As usual, she thought his long-legged stride seemed incongruous with the lavender-tinted wig and high-heeled shoes.

  “William,” he muttered. “You call the man by his given name? What was he doing here? I thought you wanted rid of him.”

  “He stopped by unexpectedly. I don’t believe it is any of your business. You certainly didn’t have to be rude to him or infer that there is something more to our relationship than—” She stopped talking when he pulled a small bundle from his coat and flung it onto the table. “What is that?”

  He scowled at her. “A gift.”<
br />
  Her mouth fell open. “You brought me a gift?”

  “Aye, is it so strange?”

  She approached the round mahogany table, where the package lay next to the tea tray. “Why did you bring me a gift?”

  “ ’Tis not a keg of powder set to blow up in your face. ’Tis a simple gift.” He turned away with a frown. “You wouldn’t question it if it came from that damned captain.”

  He was jealous, the realization finally dawned. Quincy Stanton was bringing her presents and jealous of other men giving her attention. Her heart skipped a beat as she unwrapped the bundle. Perhaps his jealousy meant he cared for her and she could actually trust him.

  She pulled out a delicate black silk shawl, painted with colored flowers and edged with imported black lace. “ ’Tis . . . so beautiful. I’ve never seen such a beautiful shawl.” She slipped it around her shoulders, admiring the way it draped so gracefully, the way the vibrant colors splashed across it with abandon.

  “Then you like it?”

  She glanced his way, spotting once again the hint of vulnerability that touched her heart. “I’ve never received such a lovely present. Thank you, Mr. Stanton.”

  His cheeks actually reddened. “I would prefer you call me Quin. After all, we battled the treacherous hedge together and emerged victorious.”

  “Very well.” She decided to go straight to the heart of the matter. “About your accusation—I don’t believe you can accuse me of anything other than . . . misplaced curiosity. Do you intend to turn me in?”

  “No, but I intend to make you stop this dangerous game you’re playing.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not playing a game.”

  “Fine, deny it to your dying breath, just before the rope tightens around your pretty neck.”

  “Are you threatening me?” She paced toward him. “Is that your aim—to gain my confidence with the lure of lovely presents ’til I confess something that would give you the power to destroy me?” She whipped the shawl off and held it out to him. “You have wasted your time and money.”