China Rose

by Marsha Canham

  When he was out of sight, Justin uncocked his pistol and slid it back under his coat. He turned to China.

  "Are you all right?"

  She nodded, not quite able to speak yet.

  "Did he hurt you in any way?"

  She shook her head, then looked down at the ribbons in her hand. The hat was gone, torn out of her hand at some point when she was fisting the pieman in the face.

  "Where did you come from?" she asked, looking back up at Justin.

  He turned and hooked a thumb at one of the shops facing onto the narrow square. "As luck would have it, my crewmates and I were ordering supplies for the ship. Gunpowder, to be precise, which is why I am equally surprised to find you here, on Armorers Alley."

  China took a closer look at the shop fronts. Depictions of cannons and pistols and iron shot were carved into the signs that hung over the doors.

  "I...don't know how I got here," she said honestly. "I was just running and paid no heed to where I was going."

  "Running? To or from something? Or perhaps someone?"

  She saw the mocking humor in the gray eyes and her eyes stung with tears again as she was forced to recall the conversation she had overheard at the dressmakers.

  Justin saw the shine along her lower lashes, the swimming deep blue of her eyes and he sobered instantly.

  "Come along, Miss Grant. We'll get you off the street first and then you can tell me what this is all about."

  He passed a quick order to his men then took her arm and led her through another labyrinth of damp, dark alleyways. They eventually emerged on a narrow cobbled street that was close enough to the waterfront that the air was thick with the smell of fish and brine. The high, gabled rooftops all seemed to lean one into the other to block out the sunlight. Now and then they passed a group of sailors who stepped aside and nodded, tugging at their forelocks as if they recognized Justin Cross.

  With his arm firmly around her waist, Justin guided her into one of the cleaner looking establishments along the row. The sign that hung from an iron pole over the door had a picture of a fat red boar's head. Inside, there was barely any light from the fly-spotted windows. Candles and sconces revealed a row of shadowy booths down either side of the tavern and scattered tables filling the middle. Most of the booths were occupied and as if by magic, all conversations ceased and the patrons craned around to see who had opened the door to let the broad stream of light cut into their gloom.

  "You will have to tolerate their curiosity I'm afraid," Justin murmured, steering her toward a secluded booth in the rear. "It is not often they see the likes of a fine lady in the Boar's Head Inn."

  "I am loathe to ask what kind of lady you normally bring in here."

  Justin grinned and raised a hand to catch the barmaid's attention. "An ale, if you please and...a brandy if you have one. Be quick about it, girl, or you'll not see the shiny side of a sixpence."

  The curious frown on the wench's face folded to a grin as she set a glass and a pewter tankard on the counter. A minute later the tankard was foaming over with ale and the glass was placed in front of China, filled with an ominously dark reddish liquid.

  "Drink it," he ordered. "Whatever it is can't hurt."

  China raised huge, bruised eyes to his and he felt a strange tightness come and go in his chest. He covered his discomfort by taking a deep draught of ale, then set the tankard back neatly in the circle of moisture it had left on the table.

  "Would you care to explain what you were doing roaming around the wharfside of Portsmouth all on your own? It will be dusk in no time and if I hadn't come along when I did, they might not have found your body until the tides cleared the bay in the morning."

  China paled even more and he reached across the table, urging the glass up to her lips.

  "That's a good girl, drink it all down." He smiled and steadied her hand over a fit of coughing. "So much for thinking they served cognac here. Better now?" He waited for the slight nod and signaled the barmaid for a refill. "All right, tell your future brother-in-law why you were brawling with a pie man."

  She expelled a long sigh and shook her head. "I was not brawling, not intentionally. It was a simple misunderstanding that got out of hand. I bumped into him and spilled his horrid pies, and when I went to get the money to reimburse him for the loss, I found that someone had stolen my purse. Either that or it had somehow come off my arm when I was running."

  "Again you tantalize me by saying you were running. Away from something? Or toward something?"

  "Away," she whispered, offering the weakest of smiles to the barmaid as her glass was filled.

  "Leave the bottle," Justin said quietly, fishing a silver coin out of his pocket. When the girl had gone to serve another table, he folded his long fingers together and studied China's face in the candlelight.

  "So we have you running away from something. You had a fitting today at Madame Rochelle's at three o'clock. Was it something she said to you? Something you saw?"

  "How did you know I had an appointment?"

  Justin debated his answer a moment then shrugged and told the truth. "I asked the Dragon Lady. She said you would be out most of the afternoon, that you had a list of stops to make at various shops."

  "So you followed me?"

  The sound of Justin's husky laughter turned more heads in their direction. One gruff old codger seated at the long bar grinned as if he was included in the conversation.

  "Ah, China Rose, you are refreshing. No, my dear innocent, I was not following you; as I already mentioned, I had my own business to tend to in town. To be totally honest, I asked Mrs. Biggs your schedule, not so much to find out where you were going as to find out when you would not be at home. And before you question me with those big beautiful eyes, the reason why I needed to know that was so that I could gain access to my...er...your room."

  "You sneaked into my room?"

  Heads swiveled in their direction again.

  "Indelicately put," he said, lowering his voice. "But yes. I thought it best to do so when you were out, thus avoiding any potential need to conceal the crime should anyone ask if I had again breached the stronghold. You really are a terrible liar, you know. Your cheeks go all pink and your eyes take on a most peculiar shine, much like the surface of the sea in a dead calm."

  "Why would anyone ask if you were in my room?"

  He took a second deep swallow of the ale and set the tankard onto the moisture ring again. "I think it's your turn to answer questions. What happened at Madame Rochelle's?"

  "What did you take out of my room?" she demanded.

  "Nothing. In truth, I left you something. So you see, I wasn't really sneaking around behind your back. You would have known I was there."

  "I want you to stop doing that."

  "Doing what?"

  "Coming and going from my room as it pleases you. Simply because I have not said anything thus far does not mean I will not hesitate to scream at the top of my lungs the next time you suddenly appear like a ghost."

  His grin shone, even in the gloom. "An unfair request, especially since I thought we were becoming such fast friends."

  "You thought wrong. And it is beyond unthinkable that anyone should see or hear you in my bedchamber. How would I explain it? The other night when Mrs. Biggs was at the door, I nearly fainted dead away. Moreover she has a key, and if I hadn't answered her knock, she would have used it to come in. Can you imagine what she would have done had she seen you in there?"

  "But she didn't see me."

  "By what berth? How many seconds made the difference?"

  Justin's smile became wry as his thumb chased beads of sweat down his tankard. "Very well, China Rose. It will be as you request. Brief greetings over the dinner table, an even briefer nod should we pass one another in the hall--damnation but it sounds like the perfect marriage!" He caught China's flush and tilted his head to one side, trying to see under the fringe of her lashes. "I can see you do not want to confide in me about what happened this afte
rnoon. Fair enough. I'll not pry, despite the fact I saved your virtue and your life today from an angry fishmonger."

  "Pie man," she whispered.

  "No matter. They all smell pretty much the same. They carry the aura of over-ripe entrails and moldy cheese, rather like a crowded market on a hot, humid after--"

  "I saw Ranulf's mistress."

  His jaw clamped silently shut.

  "I saw her," China said and met the startled look in his eyes. "In the dressmaker's shop. She was with another woman, buying ribbons and such. I overheard them talking."

  "Did she know who you were?"

  China shook her head. "No. But she knew all about me. She knew the marriage was arranged and she knew it was in three days time. She even knew--"

  "Yes?"

  ...a squealing knock-kneed country cow who looks and smells like a workhorse...

  "She knew I was from the country. She seemed worried that Ranulf might ignore her after he had a wife at home, but the other one...the other woman assured her that Randy was aptly named and would continue to seek out her company."

  Justin laced his long fingers together around the tankard and pursed his lips in thought. "My brother is thirty-five. Thirty-six come December. He is hardly of the age or disposition to be a monk."

  "I know that," said China, the two pink stains darkening on her cheeks. "But does it mean he has to flaunt his women in front of me? Did he have to recommend me to a dress shop where he knew very well she shopped? Even if she didn't happen in today, he should have known Madame Rochelle would have a fine chuckle at my expense."

  "Ran is slightly thick headed where certain things are concerned, I must agree. Frankly you might have been much better off with Eugene. He isn't as fine to look at but he has a brain between his ears when he's of a mood to use it. He isn't all cards and skittles and tennis on the green. I warrant he would have been truer longer. Not much longer, but longer." He paused before asking, "You never did tell me why you agreed to marry Ran."

  "Possibly because it was never any of your business."

  "Touché. But you don't love him. There are times over the past ten days I would stake my life's wages on the fact you don't really even like him. No fault there, I assure you. I don't like him much myself." He took a sip of ale and wiped his hand across his mouth. "As for his motives, they are even more obscure. You are not an heiress as far as I can tell. You come with some land in Devonshire, but not enough to make a huge addition to the Cross coffers. Your father was in shipping, but his company folded some years back and most of the assets went to paying off debts. You are undeniably a lovely woman, but again--and you'll forgive me if I'm blunt--but you do not possess the, erm, physical attributes that would catch his eye. Frankly...and without prejudice...I see no reason strong enough to make Ran agree to the marriage."

  China leaned back on the bench. The second glass of brandy was burning nicely through her veins, chasing away enough of her inhibitions that she looked down at her less than imposing bosom and sighed. "Indeed," she murmured. "The girl did have physical attributes. So many it is a wonder she didn't topple over when she leaned forward."

  Justin threw back his head and laughed. It was a deep, robust sound and while it raised yet another degree of color in China's cheeks, it also produced a grudging smile. The Justin she had seen out in the street had been completely in control; tall and solid and quite dangerous looking, truth be told. She could well imagine him leading a boarding party over the side of a ship, or striding across a deck on some wind-tossed sea. The hand that had held the cocked pistol had not wavered by so much as a hair's breadth, nor had the look in those gray eyes promised anything but instant death.

  The Justin before her now was relaxed and loose-limbed, his stance at ease. The concern in his eyes was genuine, and even though some of his words were laced with sarcasm or flippancy, they did not entirely conceal the anger toward his brother's insensitivity. And when he laughed...goodness...

  She huffed out another small breath and pushed her glass forward. "I think perhaps I should leave now. Heaven knows what Lady Prudence must think happened to me. If you could be so kind as to point me to the way back...?"

  She started to rise, but Justin's hand stopped her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and held her adamantly half-in, half-out of the seat. She stared into his eyes, which had lost all traces of easy humor, and sank slowly back onto the bench.

  He did not release her wrist, nor did his eyes relent.

  "The marriage was arranged by my father," she said finally. "I was not told any of the details, only that it was a formal, signed betrothal. As to your brother's motives, you will have to ask him."

  "Meaning you have wondered about it too?" he asked candidly.

  "I...am not totally unaware of our differences," she admitted.

  "Day and night have differences," he said. "A tree and a rabbit are poles apart. Didn't anyone ask you what you wanted? If you even wanted to marry him?"

  "My father asked me, yes. On his deathbed, he asked me. There was fear in his eyes...fear that he was leaving me alone and when I saw that, my only thought was to let him rest easy. When I told him yes, I was looking forward to being married, he smiled and I could see the pain drifting out of him. Truth be told, I think I would have dreaded the thought of being alone as well." She extricated her wrist gently from Justin's grasp. "Does that satisfy you? Does that answer all of your questions?"

  "I only have one more," he said, his brow furrowed. "How long ago were you told of the agreement?"

  "Two years ago, I believe. I don't recall exactly. Why is that important?"

  "Could you have refused if you had wanted to?"

  "That's two questions, but yes. I could have refused."

  Justin's expression was guarded. "There are different ways of being alone, China. Just because you are marrying the man, it does not mean you will be better off than you would have been in Devonshire."

  "Perhaps not. But we must all place our trust in someone, at some time. I trust my father. I trust that he knew what he was doing and what he thought would be best for me. He always regretted taking my mother away to the country. Not that she ever complained or gave him any reason to think she missed being in a big city, but after she died he blamed himself for not having given her more. Perhaps that was why he approached Ranulf. I don't know."

  "Wait. Are you saying....it was your father who proposed the marriage offer directly to Ranulf?"

  "I believe so. Why?"

  Justin tried hard to conceal his surprise over this unexpected bit of information. He had assumed the arrangement had been brokered between Timothy Grant and Anthony Cross, marrying the daughter of one to the son of the other. He could even have seen the logic of Ranulf approaching Timothy Grant with the proposition.

  Unless of course....he didn't know.

  "Will ye be wantin' another ale, Cap'n?"

  Justin's thoughts snapped back to the present. "What? Oh, no." He flipped a coin expertly into the girl's cleavage then stood and assisted China out of the booth.

  "She called you captain."

  He glanced at the barmaid, who gave him a saucy wink. "She calls everyone captain," he chuckled. "That way they pay in silver rather than copper."

  China was about to say something else when a bear of a man stepped out of the booth beside them, briefly blocking their path to the door. His features were coarse, his arms were like tree trunks, his legs like pillars. No words were exchanged between the two men, but China saw the little tic shiver high on Justin's cheek as the stranger grinned and moved aside so they could pass.

  Justin's grip tightened on her arm and he ushered her quickly through the tavern and out into the descending dusk. In the time they had been inside, the afternoon sun had fallen well below the rooftops and most of the street was enveloped in shadow.

  "This way," Justin said, leading her hastily along the cobbled lane. "You don't exactly resemble the majority of clientele who frequent this part of the town. More
than one pie man has traded his apron for a stout club after a strong pint of ale to bolster his courage."

  "You mean he may have followed us?"

  "I mean...there are a surly and disreputable lot of blackguards who inhabit the waterfronts. I would not trust one of them further than I could spit on a cold night."

  "Oh." She edged closer to him as they walked. "And here I was beginning to think I couldn't possibly be involved in any worse troubles today."

  "Not intentionally, I'm sure," Justin chuckled. He slowed his strides slightly when he saw that she was struggling to keep apace. He slowed even more when they came to a stone bridge with a narrow underpass that was in total darkness. It took a moment for him to realize someone had doused the lamps that normally burned at either end of the path. By the time he caught China by the waist and started to push her behind him, four dark figures emerged from the deeper shadows.

  It was the pie man.

  And behind them, cutting off their retreat, were two more ominous figures, one of which was the burly brute from the tavern.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "I'll 'ave that pistol ye've tucked away in yer britches," Tim Pitts scowled. "An' we'll 'ave an accounting o' wot's in yer other pockets as well."

  There were five ruffians altogether, the pie man and the two flanking him, along with the brute from the tavern and his companion, a short skinny man with black teeth and an obvious limp. The three in front carried clubs and staves, the two behind were confident the massive brute was all the weaponry they needed.

  Justin raised his hands slowly, cautiously, in a show of acquiescence. The gun was removed from his belt; his pockets were frisked and relieved of purse and watch.

  "I want no trouble," he said quietly.

  The pie man grinned. "Ye hear that mates? Now he's on the other end o' the stick, he wants no trouble. Wot about this, fancy man?" He pointed to the blue swelling at the bridge of his nose. "Wot about a fair exchange for this?"

  "Fine," Justin said evenly. "Just let the young lady pass. I will meet you on any terms you like as soon as she is safely away."