“I took a perfectly interesting conversation about your business and turned it to the weather!”
“Is that a very English thing to do? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh certainly not here where it is beautiful every day.”
The wide smile on her pinkened lips was doing strange things to his insides.
“But in England, no polite conversation is complete without a comment on the present weather and a query as to the chance it will improve the next day.”
Ford felt a grin tug at his lips. “I shall have to remember that the next time I am there.”
She looked surprised. “Do you sail to England often?”
“I have—”
“Anne!” Theodore Barclay’s sharp tone of voice interrupted him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I require your attendance. I, er, wish to introduce you to someone.”
“Mr. Spooner and I were just having some lemonade, Theo. I will find you—”
“I need you to join me now.”
It occurred to Ford that she had introduced herself the other day as Josephine Barclay. He wondered why her brother called her Anne. Perhaps it was a family nickname.
Miss Barclay frowned at her brother for a moment before setting her cup down and offering her hand to Ford. He bowed correctly over it.
“Thank you for the dance and edifying information, Mr. Spooner,” she said before her brother took her arm and steered her away.
He watched the curve of her hips sway beneath her tightly-corseted waist, caught her glance over her shoulder at him with a wistful smile before she was swallowed up by the crowd.
Chapter Four
“What were you doing so long in that man’s company?” Theo demanded as he guided her to the other side of the ballroom.
“We danced, Theo,” she said. “It is a ball, after all.”
“You weren’t dancing when I found you.”
Josephine looked at her brother in surprise. “Is it not perfectly acceptable both to drink lemonade and engage in polite conversation following a dance?”
“Polite conversation? What did you talk about?”
Josephine couldn’t prevent her smile as she said, “If you must know, we discussed the weather.”
“The weath—oh,” he replied, looking slightly abashed. “Nonetheless, you shouldn’t have remained in his company so long.”
They stopped at the group of people surrounding the Lieutenant Governor. Josephine frowned, an uncomfortable notion occurring to her.
“Do you mean I shouldn’t speak so long to any gentleman, or only to Mr. Spooner?”
Theo scowled, though he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
She was surprised to find her voice shaking as she said, “I hadn’t thought you to be the sort of man to hold another man in contempt for the color of his skin. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”
“I—I’m not that sort of man, Jo—Anne. But it’s not what I think that matters. Basseterre is a small community. People talk, and many of these people were slave owners before it was outlawed.”
“Yes, and they are the ones who should feel shame, not I,” she said hotly. She and her brother had not argued once since she’d arrived on St. Kitts, but she felt a quarrel burbling just below the surface.
He drew her closer so they would not be overheard. “You are kind-hearted, sister, a fact for which I am grateful. Not many could endure what you did with Kent and remain so. Be that as it may, I would not have you suffer further from what other people think.”
Josephine felt her anger dissipate. She knew ultimately Theo was only trying to protect her. If he grew overprotective, she suspected it was because he felt guilty for not protecting her those years she was at Kent’s mercy. She would press him later about Mr. Spooner.
“You are a good brother, Theo,” she said.
His expression softened. “Come, let me introduce you to the Lieutenant Governor’s sister. You and she are of an age, I believe, and she is newly come to the islands. It’s time you started making friends of your own here.”
Josephine smiled at his motherly proclamation. “Very well.”
In truth, she had been quite content with her quiet life. Upon first arriving in St. Kitts, Jo was terrified to leave Theo’s house. She’d been convinced Thomas Kent would track her down and exact his revenge on her for leaving him. Her only human interaction other than her brother had been with the servants. It was Molly who had befriended her, convinced her that she was safe, and accompanied her on her first outings to the town and the beach. As the months passed, Josephine’s fears began to recede. She’d even begun to make short excursions by herself, such as the day she’d encountered Josiah Benjamin.
She and Theo moved to the edge of the group of people surrounding Lord Robinson, presumably waiting to be introduced to the woman at his side.
Now that she thought of it, Josephine reflected, she should probably still be terrified after running into Josiah Benjamin. The man had been her husband’s closest business associate and had faced prosecution for their mismanagement of the workhouse and the exploitation of its inhabitants. The last she’d heard from Lady Howard, the friend who’d helped her flee England, Kent and Benjamin had been sentenced to the prison hulks shortly after she arrived in St. Kitts.
That Benjamin was now here should have her jumping out of her skin. It suddenly occurred to her that Thomas Kent could be here as well. Why had she not thought of that before? She felt her heartbeat quicken and a faint sheen of perspiration that had nothing to do with the mugginess of the ballroom broke out on her brow.
Feeling someone’s gaze on her, she glanced about, half expecting to see her husband stalking toward her with the promise of punishment in his cold, flat eyes. Instead as she turned, her gaze was drawn unerringly to Mr. Spooner, who seemed to stand head and shoulders above those around him, though he was of average height.. Instead of the cold, flat eyes of Thomas Kent she basked in warm, faceted hazel depths. As she stared at him, a tiny smile lifted one corner of his mouth and she felt her own lips curving in response.
Instantly the fear of a moment ago left her. Her heart still beat quickly, but it was not terror that spurred it. She felt a sense of peace, of security wash over her that was completely baseless. She scarcely knew the man. And yet she found that his very presence made her feel safe, as if he would defend her against all threats.
“Lord Robinson, Mrs. Livingston, may I introduce my sister, Miss Anne Barclay?”
Josephine turned abruptly from her absorption with Mr. Spooner and forced herself to concentrate on smiling and curtseying to the lieutenant governor and his sister. Mrs. Livingston had strawberry blond hair and skin so pale as to appear nearly translucent. She did seem to be of an age to Josephine and after their initial salutations, they chatted about adapting to life in the tropics after England.
“And how do you like the produce?” Josephine asked. “While I love the mangos, I find the breadfruit—” She stopped abruptly as Mrs. Livingston’s expression froze. Josephine looked over her shoulder to see they were being joined by a large man with bluff features sun-bleached hair and brows, and a ruddy complexion.
The fine hairs on Josephine’s arms rose and she found herself holding her breath, for though the man was the physical opposite of Thomas Kent, for some reason he reminded her of her husband.
She turned back to Mrs. Livingston and knew. Knew without hearing his name that the newcomer was Mr. Livingston; knew without spying a single bruise that Mrs. Livingston was terrified of her husband. As the lieutenant governor made the introductions, Josephine could easily understand why Mrs. Livingston’s eyes held a look of terror.
Whereas Thomas Kent had been of deceptively slim build, Mr. Livingston was easily six feet tall with beefy shoulders and arms. He held a drink in meaty hands and spoke in loud, brash tones. What must punishment at those hands entail?
Josephine felt the familiar swirl of fear flow through her veins, enervating her muscles until she froze l
ike a hare before the hounds.
She smiled woodenly as she was introduced and mumbled her reply. Theo must have noticed her state for he quickly moved to her side and whispered in her ear, “Are you unwell?”
She nodded once and then shook her head. “Actually, I feel a bit faint. Perhaps we might depart?”
“Of course,” her brother said, making their excuses to the group.
Josephine took Mrs. Livingston’s hand between her own and said, “I do hope you will come to visit.” The other woman cast a glance at her husband. “Or,” Josephine said quickly, “I could perhaps visit you if you prefer.”
“I—I would like that very much.”
After receiving the Livingston’s direction, Josephine took her brother’s arm and allowed him to draw her away.
“Are you able to walk? Should I—”
“It’s not that.” She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Theo, do you know Mr. Livingston?”
“Livingston? I only just met him tonight. Why? Do you recognize him?”
Josephine shook her head, the tightness in her muscles slowly dissipating. “No, but—” she paused. “Theo, he beats his wife.”
Her brother stopped abruptly in the hall outside the ballroom and Josephine glanced up to see him frowning.
“How could you—there’s no way you could know such a thing. Did his wife say something to you?”
“No,” she replied, tugging on his arm. They continued out onto the front porch, a wide verandah that wrapped around the entire house and to which all the ground floor rooms opened.
“Then I don’t see how you could possibly—”
“I know, Theo,” she said, her tone implacable.
Her brother glanced at her and whatever he was about to say froze in his mouth. He pressed his lips together in a grim line and nodded shortly.
Josephine knew he was uncomfortable, knew he didn’t know what to say.
Upon her arrival on St. Kitts, she had told her brother the extent to which Thomas Kent had mistreated her, explained that she’d fled England under an assumed name, that she had even gone so far as to re-write Theo’s letters to her—letters Thomas Kent had kept hidden from her for years—so that if he did try to track her down, he wouldn’t know where to look.
Theo had listened to her brief explanation, his face graying, his hands clenching into fists. When she fell silent, he stood, walked to the nearest wall, and punched a hole in the plaster. Josephine had frozen, the violent explosion too similar to Thomas Kent’s punishments.
Theo had pulled his hand from the wall and absently nursed a cut knuckle as he glanced at her. He must have read the fear on her face, realized what had caused it, for her took two steps forward and dropped to his knees in front of her, his expression filled with remorse.
“God, Jo, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just so mad—not at you,” he hastened to add.
“At Thomas Kent,” she said.
“Yes, but mostly at myself. I should have been there to protect you. You should not have been forced to marry him. I should have—”
She laid her hand on his cheek. “Shh,” she said. “You had your own difficulties.”
Theo nodded shortly. He turned his head to press a kiss to her hand and stood.
“I am also furious at our relatives who handed you over to this vile Kent. And I swear to you, sister, you need fear him no longer. Should he track you down, I will gut him like a fish. I’ve a notion to hop the first ship bound for England and pay him a visit.”
“No! Theo you mustn’t. He committed no crime under the law—a wife is a husband’s to do with as he pleases. I’ll not risk losing you! Just allow me to begin a new life here, I beg of you!”
“Of course,” he’d said, stopping . “You will always have a home with me.”
Even a year later, and with word of Kent’s imprisonment, Josephine knew her brother still blamed himself for what she’d endured, could even now see the conflicting emotions of guilt, anger, and frustration on his torch-lit face.
She mustered a smile to ease him and he nodded shortly.
“I’ll just go fetch the carriage. It will be faster than waiting for a footman to bring it round. Why don’t you wait here? No need to drag your pretty dress through the wet grass.”
She nodded, recognizing that her brother needed to do something physical to burn off his unsettled temper. She watched him run down the steps and disappear into the dark.
From behind her she could hear the muted sounds of the party: music, laughter, the clink of glassware. Outside, the breeze rustled the trees, a horse whickered softly, and, if she listened closely, she could pick out the susurrus of the surf against the beach.
Movement drew her eye and she saw someone come around the corner of the house on the verandah. Turning her head, she saw Mr. Spooner halt abruptly as he noticed her. He hesitated a moment before crossing the few steps between them.
“It’s very warm in there,” Josephine said.
“It is,” he agreed, and an awkward silence fell.
It seemed like Mr. Spooner wished to say something, even opened his mouth before clapping it shut again.
She turned to face him, studying his handsome face in the flickering light. Jo marveled that she should feel such an instant connection as her gaze caught his. They stared at one another for a long moment; a moment that was suddenly not awkward at all. It was…heated.
At last Mr. Spooner spoke. “If—that is, should you encounter the man who frightened you the other day, or anyone who makes you uncomfortable, for that matter, I wish you to know that you have only to ask and I will protect you.”
Josephine felt a gasp leave her lips. She reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you,” she whispered as the most delicious sensation washed over her skin. It was comforting and stimulating all at once. It was a warmth that had nothing to do with the heavy press of the humid night air.
“I generally have my manservant Chester accompany me on such errands—”
“Of course,” he replied quickly.
“But your offer is very kind. I should like—that is—”
She was interrupted by the sound of a carriage pulling up. She glanced over to see Theo climbing down, a frown marring his brow. She turned back to Mr. Spooner, who executed a short bow before saying,” I bid you good evening.” He nodded at Theo as he lightly descended the shallow steps and quickly disappeared into the night.
“I may need to have a talk with Mr. Spooner,” her brother said as he assisted her into the carriage.
“What? Why?” she sputtered. “No you will not! Mr. Spooner was leaving, and I happened to be standing at the exit. There was no way he could depart without speaking to me unless he wished to be rude.” She paused, gathering her thoughts as Theo guided the horses down the graveled road.
“Theo—you said you weren’t the kind of man to judge another for the color of his skin.” She stumbled a bit over her words. Such frank talk was uncommon between them, despite the experiences of the past year, but she must know if he...
“Of course I don’t. It’s like I told you, society, even such as it is here on the island, would not…approve of too close an interaction between someone like you and someone like him.”
Josephine considered his words in silence, though she clasped her hands to still their shaking. What little interaction she’d had in the English social scene here in Basseterre had led her to believe it was, of necessity, much more relaxed than at home. However, Theo had lived here far longer and was in daily contact with the St. Kitts’ “society.” Perhaps he knew it best. And yet…
“Theo, it occurs to me that Society would not approve of me leaving my husband, despite the fact that had I stayed with Thomas Kent, he would have eventually killed me.”
At her brother’s look, Josephine pushed on. “I failed to give him a son. That would have been the excuse he gave himself. The fact is, Thomas Kent is an evil man who used any excuse to take his anger out on me. But
in Society’s eyes—” she was perhaps going a bit overboard with the mocking tone of voice, but she was suddenly finding a streak of outrage that had been long suppressed and she seemed unable to silence it. “I belonged to my husband as surely as Mr. Spooner once must have belonged to an Englishman. You will forgive me if I do not hold society’s approval of my speaking to a gentleman such as Mr. Spooner in high esteem.”
Her heart was racing and her fingers tingled from being clutched so tightly in her lap, but she found she could not regret speaking out. It seemed that since making the decision to leave Thomas Kent, she had been growing bolder and she had no desire to return to the downtrodden woman she once was, damn the consequences.
After several long moments of silence, while the horses plodded down the road, Theo finally spoke.
“Mr. Spooner was never a slave.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“His father was English. He owned a rather large sugar cane plantation. His mother, I am given to understand, was originally a slave, though I don’t know if the elder Spooner freed her of his own accord or if she was freed once the laws changed. It is my understanding that the elder Spooner acknowledged his son and raised him as his heir, though how he managed the legalities of that, I don’t know.”
“Oh,” Josephine said, unable to think of a more eloquent response.
They drove on in silence, each lost in his thoughts. They stopped in front of Theo’s house and he jumped down to assist her out of the carriage.
“Go on in. I’ll unhitch the horses,” he said.
She nodded and turned to climb the steps. She stopped and turned back to her brother.
“Theo,” she called, and he paused in the act of climbing back up. “I don’t see when my path should ever cross Mr. Spooner’s again, but you should know that I shall not hesitate to acknowledge him, to greet him politely. And I should be most aggrieved if you were to harass him in any way.”
“I wouldn’t harass--”
Her brother did not meet her gaze. Instead he stood staring at the carriage step. After a moment, however, he nodded and climbed up, calling to the horses to move.
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