by Lee Bross
She shook her head. “That was just a story made up to explain why I was there.” She wanted to trust him, more than she’d wanted anything in her life. “Tell me more about your travels,” she said, walking to the front of the ship. She needed a moment to collect herself. “What’s it like, being at sea?” She closed her eyes and tilted her face into the breeze. She wanted to imagine every detail he told her. Grae moved next to her and the fresh scent of cedar joined all the other aromas filling her lungs.
“Indescribable. Sometimes, when I see the coast coming into view, I don’t want to come home yet. Once the ocean gets into your blood, it stays there forever. My father took me out on his ship when I was only four that first time. Ever since then, I couldn’t stay away. There is no freedom like water as far as you can see.”
Inside her chest, Arista felt her heartbeat thumping wildly. That was what she’d always envisioned. What she wanted to feel. “Tell me about something you’ve seen.”
Grae thought for a moment, then turned to her with a grin. “There are ports along the Indian coast that make you think you’ve gone to another world. There are the most beautiful animals roaming free. Women carry great baskets of fruits on their heads. You’ve never seen such colors. And the smells. Spices and tea and smoke.”
“That’s what I want. A place with color. London is so grey. It feels…hopeless most days.”
“Is that why you’ve decided to travel to India, then?”
“When I was very young, an Indian woman at my orphanage was kind to me. No one else cared whether I lived or died.” She risked a glance at Grae, and he looked pained. “Nalia was good to me. She was the laundress. I’d sneak to the room where she stayed, washing clothes for days on end. She told me stories about India as I sat under her folding table. It became this…” Arista stared out over the river, watching it wind through London and disappear into the horizon. She’d never said any of this out loud before, but it felt right and she didn’t stop. “It became this magical place across the ocean that I wanted to escape to. Whenever things got bad, which was most of the time, I clung to the idea that if I could one day get there, everything would be okay.”
A self-deprecating laugh escaped from her. She couldn’t look at Grae again, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes.
“The man who took me from the orphanage—he came often, taking the smallest ones to steal for him in the markets. The night he chose me, I was five. I remember being scared, so I ran to Nalia. She gave me her scarf and told me to never forget that there was a big world out there. I only ever dreamed about it. I never really expected that I might see it one day.”
She turned to look at him. His hair danced in the wind and he stood firm despite the rocking of the ship. She never wanted to stop looking at him; would never grow tired of listening to him tell stories about his adventures. Only, she wanted to be part of them now.
“So, what changed?” he finally asked.
“Everything,” she whispered.
The same man stood on the edge of the crowd, as he had done before. Arista had been watching him for the past ten minutes as he grew increasingly agitated.
Arista had gone to the harbor almost every day for the past three weeks to visit Grae’s ship, learning everything she could from him. She now knew the difference between a mizzenmast and a foremast. She could tie a serviceable knot, and it no longer made her ill to watch the men shimmy up the masts to tug on the ropes. The best part was watching Grae work. His interactions with his men, who clearly respected him, and the way Grae never hesitated to jump in and help with any job that needed to be done, made her heart swell. He was hard-working and kind and when he would catch her staring, his grin lit up her insides.
And now, she could walk across the deck while the ship rolled beneath her feet without stumbling. Joe even tried to show her how to clean the fish they were to put on salt for the voyage, but that hadn’t worked out so well. Arista now knew that fish guts caused retching. At least for her. Even then, Grae had been tender and insisted she rest in his cabin until she felt better.
In the evenings, Grae joined his family for dinner. Afterward in the parlor there was always lively conversation, about anything from politics to shipping routes. The Sinclairs always included Arista in their discussions, even though she had very little to add. Mostly she would sit and listen, especially when Grae talked. His eyes would light up and he would gesture wildly with his hands, and she couldn’t look away. The way the family interacted with each other intrigued her. They were always respectful, even when they argued, and the love they shared was very clear.
She looked forward to those after-dinner moments, but what she really enjoyed were the few precious minutes when Grae would sneak out into the garden and then knock on her door. They’d stand on the threshold of her room, hands occasionally brushing together as they whispered to each other.
Those moments made her ache for so much more than she deserved. They almost made her forget that she still had a job to do. When a messenger finally arrived one morning with a note, reality came crashing back down. Wild specified that she was to meet the same man as before at midnight the following night. There was a packet included that she was to give him.
Now it was quarter past, and she found herself hesitating. She should have concluded their business already, but tonight—the disguise, the lies, everything about what she was going to do—it all made her stomach hurt.
It wasn’t nerves. It was something else. Something even more terrifying. The blackmail felt wrong. She was aware of a sense of guilt that had never before been present in her life. The time spent with the Sinclairs, especially with Grae, had shown her what normal was like. He treated her like a lady, and she found she liked it immensely. For the first time in her life, she’d found a place where she fit in, something she’d only ever dared to hope for in the quietest hour of the night. And putting on Lady A’s disguise was like wearing a dress three sizes too small. It was confining and uncomfortable.
It scared her, this sudden burst of conscience. If she wasn’t Lady A, then who was she? Where did she really belong? Arista shook her head. This, right here, was where she had to be. It didn’t matter who she wanted to be—only who she was right now. To get out of this life she had to play the game.
Her client was waiting. It was time to do her job.
“Would you care to dance?” a low voice from behind her asked. Arista turned, a shiver of excitement running over her skin, but it wasn’t Grae.
“No thank you. I’m waiting for someone.”
“A shame,” he said. A small smile passed over his lips and he nodded his head. “If you change your mind, you have only to ask.”
As he walked away, she couldn’t stop herself from the obvious comparison. His shoulders were narrower than Grae’s, and he wasn’t quite as tall. From what she saw of the lower part of his face, he wasn’t hideous to look at, nor did his breath reek of brandy. His behavior was polite enough. All things considered, he appeared to be a decent enough gentleman. And yet she felt nothing for him. There was only person she wanted at her side. And for that reason alone, she had made sure he did not know where she was.
Grae would not be there tonight, as she had given Becky explicit instructions not to tell him anything. Part of her wished that she had said nothing to Becky. Watching couples dance and flirt behind the safety of their disguises made her want Grae there. She missed being in his arms more than she wanted to admit. No one would be an adequate substitute.
“I grow tired of waiting for you to come to me.”
Arista swung around and came face-to-face with the man she’d met before. His eyes glinted dangerously in the candlelight. He was gripping the head of his cane tightly, and she had the distinct feeling that he would just as soon beat her with it as lean on it. Keeping him waiting had not gone over well at all.
Which pleased her greatly.
“I’m on no one’s schedule but my own, sir. But since you are standing here, we may as we
ll conclude this business.” He took her arm none too gently, pulling her closer to the darkened side of the room. Once they were away from curious eyes, Arista pulled out the packet Wild had given her and held it out to him, but yanked it away when he reached for it. “You have something for me?”
He glared at her, but took out another purse of coins. Once the purse was in her hand, she dropped the packet into his outstretched palm. He quickly tucked it into an inner pocket, then patted his jacket. A self-satisfied smile curled his lips up.
His greed was the ticket to her freedom, but someone else would ultimately lose when he used this information to blackmail them. “Good evening to you, sir,” she said, starting to turn away.
He grabbed her arm again, and this time squeezed it until she winced. Arista tried to pull away, but his fingers dug into her flesh painfully. “If I don’t get what I want from this deal, I will personally come after you, my dear.”
Fear clawed its way over her skin, and she took a deep breath to push it back down. Lady A resurfaced. Deftly, her hand fell to her thigh, and her knife was free before he could move. The tip pressed against his groin. “If you ever threaten me again, sir, I will make sure that your line ends with you. Is that clear?” This was a dangerous game she played. The people around her were too engrossed in each other to care if she was hurt. Nic had been the one who kept her safe before, but now there was no one. She needed to appear strong and unafraid.
His eyes narrowed, but he released her arm and stepped away from her. “A wise move,” she said pleasantly. “Again, good evening to you, sir.” Arista slid the blade back into its sheath and turned her back on him. Without glancing back, she knew her casual dismissal of him would fuel his anger. Men like him did not like disrespect, especially from a woman who held power.
It wasn’t until she’d made it to the patio doors that Arista allowed her hand to drop from the knife’s handle under her skirt. Tonight she felt like a fraud. No matter what Wild promised her, no matter how much money she extorted from the aristocracy for him, she knew it would never be enough. Men like him, led by greedy hearts, took and took until there was nothing left. She might be better paid now, but she was still as much his pawn as Bones’s. She had to get out before it was too late.
The idea that had been dancing in her mind since Nic left her the letters grew stronger.
If she contacted the people in the packet and offered them their secrets back in exchange for a reasonable sum, she could get the money she needed for passage to India—while also freeing them from further blackmail. She could make some amends for her part in Bones’s blackmail scheme.
She knew that Grae planned to sail in about a week. The cargo was due soon and once it was on board, the ship would be ready. And she would be on it.
With her mind made up, Arista made her way to the street. She had only gone a few steps when a carriage pulled up alongside her. “A lovely evening for a stroll,” Wild said from the window. “Did everything go well with Lord Raffer?” Raffer. So that was the despicable man’s name. She tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. If Wild had any inkling that she intended to deceive him, this night would not end well for her.
“Yes, he gave me his payment.” She stepped closer and handed Wild the small bag through the opening. She heard the unmistakable jingling of coins, and then Wild handed her half of tonight’s money. Tucking it safely in her reticule, she started to move past the carriage.
“I have arranged a meeting for one week from now—a new client who is very interested in meeting Lady A. He has indicated that masks won’t be necessary.” A thin line of white smoke drifted from the window of the carriage.
Arista’s feet froze to the ground. No mask? “That’s not how it works.”
“The meeting will be held in a discreet place, I assure you, so you don’t have to worry that anyone else will see you.”
“Why?” Something didn’t feel right. Anyone dealing with Lady A had no need to see her face to conduct business. Not unless they had ulterior motives.
“He simply wishes to see the face of the woman he does business with. As I said, your safety is my utmost concern.” His bored tone told her more than his words did. Her safety did not interest him at all.
“No. If what you said is true, if this is a real partnership, then I have a say in how things work, correct? Or is this where you reveal your true colors, and I find you are no better than Bones?” It was a bold move, calling him out on the promise that he’d made her at Lady Carstair’s party. He would either prove to be a liar and demand she do as he bid her, or he would relent.
Wild leaned out the window. She did not miss the steely glint in his eyes. “This is a very lucrative offer. You could have the money you need to go to India after only a few meetings. Isn’t that your goal?”
The ground beneath her feet shifted, and Arista stumbled. How did he know about that? She had only ever talked about it with Becky and Nic. And Grae. In public—several times now. The air left her lungs in a soft whoosh.
He chuckled, a dark sound that made her cringe. “I have ears everywhere, Lady A. London belongs to me, and I know everything that goes on in it. It really would be foolish to pass up this opportunity. If we both get what we want, we can conclude our partnership.”
The tiny tic in the corner of his mouth gave away his lie. He had no intention of letting her go. But she had no intention of staying. It was only a matter of time before one of them would betray the other.
Play along. Let him think he has you.
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “How much is he offering?”
“More than the rest put together.” His smile told her everything. He thought he’d won already. She would need to fit in as many meetings as she could before Grae’s ship left, in order to collect enough money to put this life behind her.
She was to meet Wild’s new client in a week. It was scarcely enough time to enact her plan, but it had to work. “It’s not as though I have any other choice, do I?” she said.
“Oh, there are always choices, my dear,” he answered pleasantly. “But I trust you will make the wise one. I will send instructions for the meeting’s place and time.” Arista jumped back as the carriage sprang forward and disappeared into the night.
She would begin sending notes tomorrow, and by the time Wild sent for her to meet with this mystery person, she would be on a ship heading far away from London.
The very next morning, Arista sent out a dozen notes, the addressees carefully chosen based on their ability to pay quickly—only familiar names, those she knew were well off. Time could not be wasted with those who did not have the means to meet her offer quickly.
Those others would receive their letters after she set sail. There would be no demand for money, only their secrets returned, free and clear. Yes, she could make demands of all of them—threaten to expose their secrets—but then she would be no better than Bones or Wild.
She was not like them. She would not cause fear and pain for profit. Not anymore.
They may have set their own blackmail in motion by contacting Bones in the first place, but desperation caused a good many people to make bad choices. People like Grae’s father, who years later was still being manipulated. No, she would end everything before she left. And if they chose to move back into that world, well, she couldn’t be the one to help them.
Grae had meetings with suppliers most of the day, preparing for his upcoming trip, so she didn’t have to worry about him showing up unexpectedly as she snuck out. She didn’t want to have to lie to him anymore.
By midday she had already heard back from six people who wanted to meet immediately; all promised her the sum she requested. Three hundred pounds each. The amount would be a pittance to those who could afford to pay so much more than she demanded for their secrets.
Four others wanted to meet her tomorrow morning. That left only two she had not yet heard back from. They were to meet her on Fleet Street at staggered times. An hour was all she n
eeded. She had no desire to dally, and neither would these people.
At noon, she tucked the six chosen packets into her pocket and told Becky only that she had a job to do. Her friend knew better than to ask questions. Arista snuck out through the garden exit. The midday sun sat high in the sky, and she was sweating in her black mourning dress within minutes. Every so often she stopped to make sure that no one was following.
The veil over her face held in the heat, and sweat beaded on her skin as she walked to the next street over. From there she hailed a hackney cab. It was even hotter inside the carriage, yet she didn’t dare open the shade covering the window, or even lift the veil farther than her nose. In the light of day, even with her disguise, discretion was of the utmost importance. No one could know what she was doing. Especially not Wild.
When they reached their destination, a busy but discreet intersection, Arista held her breath until she heard the impatient knock. The door opened, and a man climbed in and sat across from her. The space inside the carriage seemed to shrink.
“Do you have it?” he asked.
Arista nodded and pulled out the packet of secrets that belonged to him. It was one of the thicker ones, as Lord Sommersville had used Bones’s services more than once.
He reached into his jacket and removed a bag of coins. “Three hundred pounds, as agreed.” They made the exchange and Sommersville did not bother with niceties. He exited the carriage before she had even tucked the money away.
The other five transactions were almost exactly the same. No one wanted to spend a second longer in her company than necessary, and in less than an hour, she was on her way back to Talbot Street. When she returned, Sophia insisted they spend the day together, and Arista didn’t mind the shopping at all. Spending time with Sophia, learning how a normal girl spent her days, was quite nice. In fact, Arista had a rather good time when she was with Sophia. And if Grae had found out anything about Louis, he had not mentioned it to her; by the way Sophia’s disposition never wavered, Arista doubted Grae had said anything to her either.