“What about your other receiving?” the Specter asked. “I want a portion of your profits from that as well.”
“All right. I’ll give you twenty percent. Considering what I’m doing for you with the notes, that ought to be ample profit.”
They bargained back and forth until they settled on twenty-eight percent. The Specter sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, Captain. I hope you’ll make as formidable an ally as you have an enemy.”
“I’ve never been your enemy, just your competitor.”
“Same thing. Which is why I’ll want some reassurances. First of all, I want the name of your smuggler, so I can make sure he’s everything you say he is.”
“You’ll get his name when the three of us meet for the first exchange of bank notes, and not before. I won’t have you trying to cut me out by making your own connection with him.”
The Specter backed up a step. “You said nothing about a meeting. I generally deal with this sort of thing through lackeys.”
Yes, that was why the man was so hard to catch. And why this was the most important part of the transaction. They had to catch him with the notes in his possession. It was the only way to have him dead to rights. “You’re not the only one who wants reassurances, you know. My smuggler likes to know everyone he’s dealing with—smuggling is a dangerous business, and it wouldn’t do for him to find himself caught because some stranger turned him over to the excisemen. So he wants to speak to you in person at the first exchange, or there’s no deal.”
A long silence ensued, and Morgan had to bite his tongue to keep from adding other reasons why they needed a meeting. If he sounded too eager, the Specter would smell a rat.
But an easy outlet for the thousands of pounds the Specter would want to move would be hard for the man to pass up.
At last the Specter said tersely, “Very well, you shall have your meeting. But only if I set the time and place. And only if you give me your smuggler’s name now.”
Morgan hesitated, but Jack had already come to London and was staying somewhere no one would think to look for him. “All right. But I set the day, to give me enough time to reach my smuggler.” And Morgan enough time to prepare his trap.
“Fair enough. What’s his name?”
“Jack Seward.”
The Specter nodded his approval. “I’ve heard of him. One of the largest smugglers of brandy and tobacco in Sussex.”
“Soon to be the largest smuggler of bank notes in Sussex. As for the day of the meeting, is three days from now too soon?”
“No. I’ll send you a message that morning with the time of the meeting. When the time comes, be waiting here with your friend, and I’ll send a man to bring you to me. Understood?”
“Understood.” That was the way the Specter always worked, which meant he didn’t suspect anything, thank God. Morgan backed toward the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to return to building Lady Clara’s gilded cage.”
The Specter laughed. “Of course. Is she as passionate in bed as she is in defending her young charges?”
Morgan forcibly suppressed a shudder at the thought of discussing such intimacies with the Specter. “Let’s just say I have no cause for complaint.”
“Ah, a gentleman,” the Specter said sarcastically. “All right, I’ll leave you to it then. Look for my message in three days.”
“Three days,” Morgan repeated.
His blood racing, Morgan waited until the man left the alley, then let out a heavy breath. The bait was set. Now it was only left to him and Ravenswood to spring the trap.
Chapter 18
Time rolls like a Marble,
And awes ev’ry State;
Then improve each Moment,
Before ’tis too late.
A Little pretty pocket-book, John Newbery
Clara slipped into the back room and eased the inner door shut seconds before she heard Morgan close the outer door and move into the front of the shop. She hadn’t missed much of the men’s conversation—the moment Morgan had gone outside, she’d awakened. Hearing the murmur of voices in the alley, she couldn’t resist listening in.
What she’d heard told her two things. One, Morgan was right about the difference between the person who’d attacked her tonight and the real Specter. The real villain was as terrifying a character as the impostor had been clumsy. She didn’t envy Morgan having to match wits with that creature of the night.
Two, if anybody had the cunning to capture the creature, it was Morgan. Despite her annoyance with the tack he’d taken concerning her, she admired his quick thinking. He could spin a tale as easily and convincingly as any of her pickpockets.
But then she should expect that, since he’d once been just like them.
She shook her head. She still could hardly believe it. The man she’d recklessly fallen in love with had once been a pickpocket. And he still suffered for it, in his heart. She could tell. What’s more, she knew, with an instinct she couldn’t name, that he hadn’t told her all of it. He hurt, and he hurt deeply. But he didn’t trust her enough to tell her why or how.
A momentary fear shook her. Good Lord, what had she gotten herself into? She could hear him moving about in the front of the shop now, rummaging around for heaven knew what. Any moment he would return, and she didn’t know how to face him. What could she say to the man she was only now discovering that she loved? Especially when love was probably the furthest thing from his mind?
Too soon, Morgan entered, then jerked to a halt when he saw her standing there in her chemise and drawers. “You’re awake.”
“So are you.” That sounded stupid. But she had no idea how to proceed.
Apparently she wasn’t alone, for he eyed her uncertainly. So she waited, wondering how much he would tell her of what the Specter had just said. That would be a measure of how much he trusted her.
Besides, she didn’t want to admit she’d been eavesdropping. Again.
He tucked his thumbs in the waistband of his drawers. “I…um…that was the Specter.”
She breathed a little easier. “Was it?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“Why should I be? I told you he might come back.”
“Actually, he never left. You were right about his seeing what happened earlier.”
“Was I?”
Warily, he edged closer. “He knows you were here. He knows we were together.”
“I see.” She didn’t want to say anything that might discourage him from telling her the rest. Scooping her corset off the floor, she slid her arms through the shoulder straps and turned around. “Here, help me with this, will you?”
That seemed to throw him off guard. “Where are you going?” he asked in an anxious voice, though he did as she asked.
The brush of his fingers against her skin as he laced her up made her ache for him all over again. “Now that the Specter is gone for the rest of the night, I see no point in staying. I think I’ll return to the Home.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders. “I thought you were staying because you were worried about my wound.”
“If you’re well enough to threaten the Specter in the alley, you’re well enough to survive your ‘scratch’ until morning, I expect.”
A groan erupted from him. “You heard what we said, didn’t you?” His fingers dug into her shoulders. “Did you hear everything?”
She sighed. No point to hiding her eavesdropping now. “Yes, I heard everything.”
He turned her around to face him, his eyes full of misery. “God, Clara, I didn’t mean any of it! I was only playing a role to allay his suspicions so he didn’t—”
“I know that,” she protested before he could continue. “Really, Morgan, do you think I trust you so little?”
He frowned. “To be honest, angel, I never know what to expect from you. You take me by surprise every moment.”
“I’m not so foolish as to think you made love to me only to gain my compliance in
some criminal scheme.” That reminded her of everything else he’d said to the Specter, and her earlier annoyance reappeared. “Though I don’t see why you had to make me out to be such a ninny.”
He blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
Wriggling free of his hands, she mimicked his arrogant tone. “‘Once I have the bars around her cage, I’ll have her pickpockets out of theirs.’” She crossed her arms over her chest. “As if I’d just throw away all my aims for my children because you bedded me. Good Lord, you made me sound like a pea-goose.”
“Better you sound like a pea-goose than a threat,” Morgan said grimly.
His blatant concern shook her to her toes, reminding her of all that was at stake. “I-I suppose you have a point.”
Coming up to her, he drew her stiff body into his arms. “Listen, angel. Spying is a nasty, dangerous business. The last thing I wanted was for you to be hurt by it. I’m sorry I couldn’t handle it any better, but he knew you’d been here, and he considers you the enemy. I had to present some reason for why I’d make love to the enemy.”
“I realize that.” She slid her hands about his waist and laid her head against his bare chest. “It’s just…well, it’s embarrassing to have that horrible man think me so easy to sway.”
He held her in a tight embrace. “I was afraid he wouldn’t even believe me. Nobody who’d ever met you could doubt your determination and strong will for one second.”
“And all that stuff he said about how to ‘control’ women gave me the shivers.”
“Me, too.” He planted a tender kiss to the top of her head. “I would never try to cage you, Clara, even if it could be done.”
“I know that.” She mused a moment. “But the way he spoke made me wonder if he practices such a method on a woman of his own.”
He hesitated, and when he spoke, there was a hint of surprise in his voice. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She drew back to look at him with eyebrows raised. “That’s because you’re not a woman. But suppose he has a wife or mistress in Spitalfields. If you can’t reach him using your present methods, you might get to him through her.”
“An intriguing thought, but without knowing who she is, it’s not much help.”
“Perhaps I could ask around. See if any of the women around here have spoken of a mysterious male friend—”
“No!” he thundered. “You won’t do any such thing. Don’t involve yourself in this more than you already have. It’s too dangerous.”
She found his protectiveness enormously endearing, though she dared not let him realize it, or he’d turn into a complete bear. “I’m only trying to help, you know.”
“You’re trying to get yourself killed is what you’re doing, and trying to take ten years off my life in the process.” He clutched her closely enough to squeeze the breath from her. “I swear, if the Specter hadn’t already found out about you, I’d lock you up until the investigation is over. Now I can’t, or it’ll arouse his suspicions. But I can still keep an eye on you.”
“What do you mean?”
“He thinks I’m trying to keep you under my thumb, so I’ll do just that. I’ll look in on you at the Home and escort you to your carriage at night. At least that won’t surprise the Specter if he hears of it.”
She pulled away to glare at him. “Yes, but what will everyone else think? The entire neighborhood knows I’ve been trying to close your shop. If I suddenly welcome you at the Home, they’ll wonder why I now find you a fit companion. The children will be confused, and the servants will assume I’ve given my conscience over to darker forces. You can’t let them think that, Morgan. It will ruin everything I’ve tried to build.”
“It won’t be for long, angel. A few weeks at most, now that the Specter has agreed to my terms.”
“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ll simply have to pretend we’re still enemies until after he’s captured.”
“He’ll wonder about that.”
“Let him wonder.” She sifted back through what she’d heard of their conversation. “Just tell him I realized my error and I retreated. But I’ll keep quiet because of your threat to expose me. Yes, tell him that.” She glowered at him. “After all, if anybody should come out of this looking like the fool, it ought to be you and not me. If you’d only told me what you were up to in the first place, I never would have meddled.”
He snorted. “You’re meddling now.”
“That’s different. I’m trying to salvage the situation.”
Threading his fingers through his hair, he glanced away. “All right, I’ll think about it. Your solution does seem more workable.” His gaze swung back to her. “But if I get any impression whatsoever that you’re in danger—”
“You can step in and save the day,” she said dryly. “You’ll do it anyway, whether I want you to or not.”
He stared at her so long that she grew uncomfortable beneath his gaze. At last he said, “And what about when this is over? What are we to be to each other then?”
She went very still, trying not to hope too much. “What do you mean?”
“I may not be ‘civilized,’ but I do have some conscience. Marriage is the only way to fix what we did tonight.”
She’d be overjoyed if not for the decidedly cautious phrasing of his proposal. If it was a proposal. She ought to clarify before she leaped to any conclusions. “So you’re saying you wish to marry me.”
He muttered a curse under his breath. “I’m saying I mean to do the right thing by you. I refuse to leave you ruined. So yes, I intend to give you my name in marriage.”
His name, but apparently not his heart. She tried to smile as she watched all her hopes dying. “But you’ve never spoken of marriage before. I got the distinct impression you weren’t interested in it.”
He glanced away, jaw taut. “I told you—I know what I owe a woman whose innocence I took. I’m not a complete barbarian.”
“I never said you were,” she choked out, though disappointment swelled in her throat, threatening to prevent all speech entirely. God forbid he should want to marry her for any reason other than to assuage his conscience. That was too much to hope for.
Wandering to where her gown stood, she picked it up and slid into it. “So what happened to your plans to return to the sea?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. When this is over, we’ll marry, and we’ll live together as man and wife until I take command of my ship.”
Anger welled up in her. He wanted to assuage his conscience and keep his freedom, too. That was so like a man. “Once you’re at sea, I shall see you how often, do you think? Once a month? Twice a year?”
“I’m a naval captain. I spend most of my time at sea.” He paused, looking very uncomfortable. “I suppose you could always go with me. Plenty of captains carry their wives with them.”
“I can tell from your enthusiasm that you can’t wait to be one of them.”
He had the good grace to look guilty. “It’s just that I assumed you would prefer to stay here so you could oversee your Home.”
“Of course.” He wouldn’t have proposed marriage otherwise, curse him.
She couldn’t breathe through the crushing pain that weighted her chest. She didn’t expect him to love her—not yet, anyway. Clearly, he was still unsure of his feelings. But if he had proposed a real marriage, she might have accepted, hoping that in time he’d feel comfortable enough to admit he cared for her.
But this! This was unconscionable. She’d finally found a man she loved, a man she wanted to marry, and his idea of marriage was worse than none at all.
Swallowing her agony, she dredged up some portion of pride within her battered soul. “It’s very thoughtful of you to offer, but I’m not interested in that sort of marriage.”
She’d expected him to look relieved, not stunned. “What the devil sort of marriage are you talking about?”
“A marriage of convenience to protect my reputation. I’ve waited this long to
marry precisely because I didn’t want to settle for such an alliance. And that isn’t going to change because you’re having a crisis of conscience.”
“Clara, you misunderstand me. I want this to be a real marriage—not a…an ‘alliance,’ as you call it.”
“Perhaps it would be real when you’re in England, but the rest of the time—”
“Are you worried that I won’t be faithful to you when I’m at sea? Is that what this is about? Because I would, you know.”
“That’s not it.” How could the man be so blind?
He looked flustered. “Then tell me what it is, damn it! I thought you’d be pleased. It’s not as if I propose marriage to a woman every day.”
“That’s painfully obvious. You do it very badly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She tipped up her chin. “It means that I deserve better than a marriage where my husband stashes me somewhere convenient while he continues to live his life precisely as before. Where I’m left to worry about his welfare and if I’ll ever see him again, while he throws himself into danger at the drop of a hat—”
Choking back a sob, she put her back to him so he couldn’t see her distress. “Please help me fasten my dress. I have to go.”
But when he came up behind her, it was to slide his arms about her waist and hold her resisting body tightly to him. “I’m touched that you worry about me, angel,” he nuzzled her hair aside to whisper, “but after a while you’ll get used to having me gone and you won’t worry anymore. You’ll be too busy with your life at the Home to—”
“What kind of coldhearted witch do you think I am?” She wrenched free of his arms to face him. “How could you even say such a thing?”
“Sailors’ wives, captains’ wives, do it all the time. I’m told they get used to having their husbands away for such long periods.”
“I doubt that. And those who do may feel they have no choice. But I have a choice, and it’s not to have a husband who would rather be away from me than with me.”
His eyes chilled to shards of black ice. “I didn’t say that. This has nothing to do with how I feel about you—”
Dance of Seduction Page 26