The Forbidden Lady

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  Friday, November 3, 1769

  After completing his schoolwork, Josiah settled on the settee next to Virginia to read another chapter from Robinson Crusoe. She smiled as she heard his young voice stumble over a word. Although he would never admit it, Josiah was very eager to please. His reading had improved to the point that he rarely needed her help.

  She reached down to a basket on the floor to retrieve her knitting. Since the boy walked to her house Monday through Friday, she intended to keep him warm in the increasingly cold temperatures with a new hat and mittens. The blue yarn she had selected reminded her of his eyes.

  She gave him a glance when he stopped reading.

  His brow puckered with a frown. “I thought ye wanted to listen to me read.”

  “I am listening.” She continued to knit.

  “No, ye’re not. Ye’re using those clickety sticks.”

  “I’m knitting and listening, Josiah. I’ve been knitting since I was four years old. I could do it in my sleep. Go on.”

  His frown deepened, but he turned back to his book. He started reading in sporadic bursts, occasionally glaring at her hands.

  She lowered her handwork to her lap. “I’m sorry if it disturbs you. I was not raised to be idle.”

  “It don’t bother me none.” He started reading again. After a few sentences he stopped, his eyes focused on the book in his lap.

  She had leaned closer to see if he was stuck on a difficult word, when a large tear fell onto the page. He slammed the book shut and dropped it on the floor.

  She stuffed her knitting in the basket. “Josiah, what’s wrong?”

  Wiping his face, he turned away from her. “Nuthin’. Ain’t nuthin’.”

  She touched his shoulder. “It is something. Can you not tell me?”

  He swung around and dove into her lap, wrapping his skinny arms around her waist. His tears spilled out, sobs shaking his bony shoulders, his cries filled with raw pain.

  She held on to him. “Josiah? Dear boy, what is troubling you?”

  His words came out, smothered and broken against her skirt. “Me mum . . . I miss me mum . . . I wish I had me mother back.”

  “Oh, dear Lord, of course you do.” It occurred to her now that she had never heard him speak of his mother before. “ ’Tis only natural to grieve for her, lad. You must miss her sorely.”

  “She told me not to cry for her. She said I had to be brave. I tried . . . I truly tried.”

  “Oh, Josiah.” Virginia brushed back his hair that had tumbled loose from its tie. “You are brave. I’ve never known a boy as fierce as you.”

  “Really?” Turning his tear-streaked face toward her, he wiped his cheeks. “Ye’ll not tell me master I cried like a baby?”

  “A few tears are nothing to be ashamed of.”

  He sniffed. “Me mum used to knit at night by the fire. I always fell to sleep with that sound in me ears.”

  “I see.”

  “After me father left, she did laundry and sewing and knitting for people, so we would have money. But ’twas not enough. I was always hungry. So, I took to stealing. Me mum didn’t like it none.”

  “I’m sure she was worried about your safety.”

  “She thought I would have a better life here. She was always giving me part of her food on the ship, cuz I’m always so bloody hungry, but she . . . she took sick and. . . .” Covering his face with his hands, he sobbed again. “I shouldn’t have taken her food.”

  Blinking back tears, Virginia lifted him and hugged him tight. “ ’Tis not your fault, Josiah. They never give enough food.” She rocked him like a baby ’til his shoulders stopped trembling and his whimpers faded away.

  His voice sounded old and weary. “I wish me master were me father.”

  “Quincy?”

  “Aye, he would never leave us like me real father. I told him me father didn’t want me and he said he understood.” Josiah yawned and closed his red, swollen eyes. “His father don’t want him neither.”

  “His father rejected him?” Virginia glanced down at the boy in her arms. His body sagged against her, limp and worn out.

  Carefully she settled him on the ochre-yellow settee, but he never woke, so exhausted he was. She brushed back his soft brown hair and let him sleep.

  Quincy read the latest news from his uncle.

  Dear Quin,

  Clarence has hired a solicitor. They requested a court date in order to present their case. Our solicitor will arrange to have this proceeding postponed ’til we can come up with a solution.

  Edward

  Quin sighed and held the letter to a candle flame. So, Clarence had finally made his first move. It probably meant that the court in England had ruled on the case there. And if Clarence was proceeding, the ruling must have been favorable to him and his father. Damn. The court here would simply follow suit.

  No wonder Clarence had been in such a jolly mood lately. It didn’t bother him at all to steal from his own brother.

  Quin dropped the blackening letter onto a silver tray and watched it smolder to a pile of ashes. Clarence wasn’t concerned about hurting a brother. In fact, he probably felt justified in saving the family business from a bastard.

  Scraping back his chair from the drop-leaf desk, Quin stood, then ambled to the walnut sideboard to fill a glass with Madeira. He paced back and forth, sipping the sweet wine, considering yet another problem. When he had arrived home, Mrs. Millstead had complained in her usual whining voice that her son Samuel had done his and Josiah’s chores for Josiah had never returned from his schooling.

  Quin knew he should rush to Virginia’s house to see what had happened, but he hesitated. The taste of her lips, the feel of her body against him, the sensations tormented him every night. He couldn’t deal with this infatuation right now. Besides, she was still angry with him. Just as well. She deserved better than a bastard. A bastard who might soon be penniless.

  A sound at the door drew his attention. Josiah peeked in, blue eyes wide with guilt.

  A wave of relief swept over him. The boy had not run away. With effort, he kept his expression stern. “Where have you been, Josiah? You were due back hours ago.”

  Josiah glanced to the side as a voice whispered to him. He whispered back to the person standing outside Quin’s study.

  Quin set his glass down and advanced toward the door. “Who are you hiding back there?”

  “Whom.” A feminine voice corrected him.

  Josiah grinned.

  “Virginia?” Quin opened the door wide.

  There she was—a woolen cape of dark green wrapped about her. The hood had fallen back, and strands of auburn hair curled around her face. The brisk weather outdoors had left her cheeks bright pink. She was dressed in plain wool, and he had never seen her so lovely.

  “Virginia, come in.”

  “I shouldn’t stay. I walked Josiah home so I could explain his tardiness.”

  Quin glanced down at the boy. “Why are you late?”

  Josiah scratched his head and shifted from one foot to another. “I . . . I fell asleep.”

  “Asleep? When you had chores to do?”

  “Please allow me to explain,” Virginia said.

  Quin frowned. “Very well. Josiah, go have your supper.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stanton.” Josiah turned away, then tugged on Virginia’s cape. “Ye won’t tell him I . . . ye know.”

  She patted his shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”

  Josiah scampered off to the kitchen.

  When Quin looked at Virginia she was studying him with her mermaid eyes. He clenched his fists to keep from pulling her into his arms.

  She cleared her throat. “I allowed Josiah to sleep this afternoon because he was exhausted.”

  “Exhausted? I haven’t overworked him.”

  “No, h
e was . . . emotionally drained. He experienced . . . an episode.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She sighed. “He doesn’t want you to know, but he collapsed into tears, grieving for his mother.”

  “Oh, I see.” Quin leaned against the doorjamb. A vague memory of a lullaby and soft arms flickered in his mind. He couldn’t remember what his mother had looked like, but he remembered the pain of losing her. “I wondered when he would finally break.”

  “Break? You were expecting this?”

  “Aye. I never saw Josiah grieve for her. ’Twas not natural.”

  Virginia’s eyes glistened with tears. “His mother told him not to cry. He was still trying to mind her.”

  “Damn.” Quin wandered into his study and downed the last of the Madeira from his glass. “I didn’t mean to involve you to this extent. I’m sorry you were put through this.” Poor Ginny. He had only meant to keep her occupied with Josiah so she would give up spying. He shouldn’t have used the boy so shamelessly to further his own plans.

  “ ’Twas natural he would turn to me. He would be mortified to cry in front of you, Quin. He thinks very highly of you.”

  Quin set his glass down on the sideboard, planning to refill it. “Not highly enough, obviously.”

  “I disagree. He wishes you were his father.”

  Quin spun around, stunned. How had that happened? He spent most of his time fussing at the boy.

  Virginia smiled as if amused. “I should be going now before it grows dark. Good evening.”

  “Wait.” He grabbed his coat from the back of a chair and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “ ’Tis not necessary.”

  He offered his arm. “I want to be with you, Ginny.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Lob, buy lob!�� The lobsterman pushed his red-and-blue wheelbarrow down Union Street, selling his wares.

  Virginia smiled at Quin as they strolled arm in arm. “Thank you for the book. I enjoyed it very much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She breathed in the crisply cool air, surveyed the pink-and-gold clouds painted by the setting sun, and felt a surge of pure happiness. She stole another sidelong glance at her escort.

  Quin was not dressed in his usual finery. His plain but well-cut blue woolen coat and breeches emphasized his tall, muscular frame. Dark whiskers shaded his jaw. She wondered if it would feel prickly against her fingertips. His short hair, without a wig, reminded her of the time he had kissed her in the orchard. She had slipped her arms around his neck and burrowed her fingers into his hair.

  “Would you like a flip?”

  She jolted into the present. “A what?”

  “ ’Tis a popular drink—a beer mixed with a little sugar, molasses, dried pumpkin, and rum. Before they serve it, they plunge a hot chunk of iron in it.”

  She grimaced. “Why? Is it not bad enough as it is?”

  “It gives it a burned and bitter taste.” After a glance at her expression, he chuckled. “All right. Perhaps you would like a hot chocolate.”

  “Oh, I do like chocolate. My father treated us to one before he left. I believe it was this place on the right.”

  “Then you shall have another.” Quin led her into the coffeehouse and to a table in a quiet corner. He sat across from her as a young waitress approached.

  “Lord, ain’t you two a handsome pair.” The waitress grinned at them.

  Quin glanced at her. “Good evening.”

  “Me name’s Sukey. What can I fetch for you?”

  “A coffee for me and—”

  “And for yer wife?”

  He hesitated as his gaze flitted to Virginia. He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair.

  Virginia came to his rescue. “We’re not married.”

  “Oh, I see how it is.” Sukey nodded her head knowingly. With a hand on the table, she bent over Virginia. “Fallen for a married man, have ye? Poor lass, there’s nuthin’ but heartache in store for the likes of you.”

  “He’s not married. I mean”—Virginia glanced at Quin—“I don’t believe he is.”

  His dimpled smile confirmed her belief.

  “What?” Planting her fists on her hips, Sukey pivoted her short, square frame toward her male customer. “A handsome man like you, not married? What are ye waiting for?”

  “A coffee. And a hot chocolate for my . . . friend.”

  “Hmm, well, suit yerself, but I’m telling you, if ye don’t snatch her up quick, someone else will.” Sukey wheeled around in a huff and marched off to the kitchens.

  Quin frowned at Sukey’s departing figure.

  An awkward silence ensued while Virginia scoured her mind for a pleasant topic. “Oh, I have good news. Aunt Mary made a great deal of money on her last venture. We have all ordered new gowns. Mine is a golden color. Aunt Mary assures me the color suits me, but I . . .” She drifted off as she noticed the incredulous look on his face. “Is something amiss?”

  “What ship did she have her merchandise on?”

  “One of your uncle’s ships, I believe. The Forbidden Lady?”

  “That’s my ship.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize—”

  “British customs seized half the goods when she came in. We took a loss.”

  Virginia’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t understand. Edward Stanton told my aunt the good news himself. He gave her the money from the profits.”

  Quin shook his head. “There were no profits. He must have given her his own money.”

  “But why?” Virginia observed Quin’s eyes fill with heat and desire, similar to the way Edward Stanton viewed her aunt. “Oh, dear.” She studied her clasped hands on the table.

  Quin reached over and took her hands in his. “Edward has been in love with your aunt for years.”

  “We cannot possibly keep the money.”

  “It must be what my uncle wants. I would do the same.” He squeezed her hands gently.

  She looked at him and became lost in his gray eyes that darkened to twilight. She felt the pressure of his fingers against her own, his steady pulse against her skin. Slowly, her pulse matched the rhythm of his as if their life’s blood sought to become one. The world around her grew dim, and she wanted it to last forever.

  She started when a coffee and hot chocolate were banged down on the table between their outstretched arms.

  “Just friends, are you? Looking at each other like a pair of cats eyeing the cream. Ye’re not fooling me none.” Sukey gave them each a saucy look. “We’ve got rooms upstairs we rent out for the likes of you.”

  Virginia grasped her mug, her cheeks as hot as the mug of chocolate.

  Quin cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary.”

  “In a hurry, are you? I could talk to me boss, see if I can get ye in for fifteen minutes—”

  “That’s enough!” Quin glared at the waitress. “Leave us be.”

  “Humph!” Sukey spun around and marched off, mumbling to herself. “Try to help people and see what it gets you.”

  “Damn.” Quin reached for his mug. “I thought this was a normal coffeehouse.”

  Virginia sipped her drink. It slid down, hot, rich, and comforting to her frayed nerves. “The chocolate is good.”

  “I apologize for her behavior, Ginny.”

  “At least you’re apologizing for someone else this time.”

  His dimples deepened as he smiled. “And not myself?”

  She smiled and enjoyed another sip of chocolate. “I’m sorry about your ship.”

  “I was at the customs house today, trying to get our goods back. Still, it could be worse. They confiscated Derby’s sloop, and now they’re taking him to the admiralty court.”

  “What will happen there?”

  “They�
�ll probably sell the ship and her cargo. The governor will get a third of the proceeds, the customs official another third, and our mother country the last third. ’Tis not in their interest to be fair about it.”

  Virginia grimaced. “It sounds like robbery to me.”

  “Aye, it is, but unlike the Boston Burglar, ’tis legal.” He took a long drink of coffee. “The mother country sees us as slaves, laboring for the sole purpose of feeding her greed.”

  “You don’t sound like a Tory, Quin.” She hoped he would confide in her just a little.

  “Neither do you.”

  “I’m not. What are you?”

  He finished his coffee, giving himself time to consider a response. “I am what you see.”

  She frowned at her almost empty mug. What a ridiculous answer. Then again, he was not dressed as a fop today. Perhaps he was telling her something.

  His mouth quirked with a playful smile. “Of course, if you would like to seduce me to the Colonial cause, I would be a willing victim. Shall I call Sukey over?”

  “No, I’m a patriot, not a martyr.”

  Chuckling, he tossed a few coins on the table. “Shall we go?”

  He escorted her to the south side of Boston in the fading twilight.

  As they turned onto Milk Street, she surveyed the stars as they became visible in the darkening sky. “Do you know the stars well?”

  “Aye. You can see them better at sea. And if the sea is calm, it can reflect their light so that you feel completely surrounded by them.”

  “That sounds beautiful.”

  “Aye, it is, though you don’t make good time. Do you see the bright one there?” He pointed over her shoulder. “That’s the North Star.”

  “Oh, like the name of the ship where we met.”

  “Aye, it has always guided me true.” He smiled at her. “It led me to you.”

  Blushing, she mounted the steps to the front door. “Would you like to join us for supper?”

  He appeared surprised by the offer. “I would enjoy that, but I’ve already made arrangements to eat with Clarence.”