“But you think I can?”
“I think that if you let your cousin take you and Harriet shopping, you can hear all the chatter in all the fitting rooms, where a man could never go. Rourke has never managed to get past the proprietress of any establishment. You can. You can ask about this Queenie of the assistants who pin up hems or take measurements or whatever they do.”
“But Harriet does not need a huge amount of clothes, merely some fresh pinafores and a pretty frock for dinners or visits. And the assistants will not speak without the lure of tips or the promise of larger orders, which I cannot afford.”
“That is what I have been trying to explain. You shall have a clothing allowance, the same as Harriet, as part of your increased salary. It is important for her future, and it is important to me.”
To have fashionable clothes in soft, silky fabrics and bright colors without spending her tiny hoard? To make a better place in the world for Harriet? To please Captain Endicott? How could she refuse?
“Yes, thank you.”
“Blue,” he said, getting down from the curricle and holding his arms out, to lift her down.
“Blue?” She looked at the distance from the ground, and then she looked at his strong shoulders and that lopsided smile, and stepped into his waiting arms.
“Yes,” he said, swinging her down but leaving his hands at her waist. “That is the color I have been imagining you in. Blue.”
He thought about her? Allie smiled from the inside out.
Then he said, “And I have imagined helping you out of it.”
He thought about her without her clothes? Oh my. Of course he must say that to all the women. But no, he could have any of those women, with or without their clothes on, so he need not imagine anything. Yet he was not paying afternoon calls on willing widows or high flyers; he was here, with her. Rather, she was here, in his embrace, where she’d never felt so desirable.
Allie was giddy with the feeling. The words, the mental image, the touch of his hands at her waist, the scent of his cologne, all combined to make her spirits soar and her knees go weak. She was drunk on love.
Love? No, that could not be! Governesses did not fall in love with libertines. They were too smart for such silly infatuations, weren’t they? So why was she letting Jack lead her behind a stand of trees, where they could not be seen from any of the paths? And why, for gracious sake, was she letting him kiss her senseless?
Because she might die if he stopped.
“I am sorry,” he was murmuring between kisses. “I never meant to do this. It isn’t right.” His hands were on her back, her neck, her derriere, pulling her closer to his body. His very hard, in places, body. “I shouldn’t. I told myself I wouldn’t.”
He was. And Allie was. And they kissed like parched castaways finding a keg of rum, deep and long and wet and not worried about tomorrow.
At last he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her eyelids, first one, then the other. “But I had to. I’ve been good for days now, keeping my distance. But you are like an exotic wine, once tasted, never forgotten. I cannot get you out of my mind. No other woman interests me in the slightest since I met you, confound it. And I know I cannot have you. You are a respectable woman. My ward’s governess. My employee. Every tenet of decent conduct demands I leave you alone.”
His hands were now under her cloak, cupping her breasts instead of her face, that was how alone he was leaving her.
Allie’s hands were burrowing beneath the capes of his driving coat, that was how offended she was. “But if Mr. Burquist is paying my wages through the Hildebrand estate, then I am not technically your retainer.”
“Hmm. But you are not a loose woman.”
Not usually. Only when he was nearby, or when she thought about him. Which was far too often for her peace of mind. Her mind was in pieces anyway. Only he could put it together. She pressed closer to him still, until nothing but a thread could have passed between them.
Perhaps one more kiss…
They might be out of sight of the passerbys in the park, but they could not hide from the hound. Joker came to find them, his nose quivering. Then he shook mud on both of them.
“There, now you need a need cloak, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“How do you know?” Allie asked Patsy, when they walked together toward the next shop on Bond Street.
“Lady Margery’s maid, Perkins, told me where we should go to find the best bargains. She wrote it down, and I can read it, Miss Silver, I can!”
“Good for you, Patsy. But that’s not what I meant. How do you know that you are in love?” She glanced behind her to where Calloway was following, his thick arms already full of packages. Jack had taken Harriet driving with him, to save the child another boring afternoon of shopping. Allie prayed they both came back in one piece, without another piece of the menagerie.
Calloway had offered to accompany the women, instead of one of the footmen/guards. It seemed he did not like Patsy out and about without his protection, not even in London’s busy streets in broad daylight.
Calloway was not the man Allie would have chosen for Patsy, a green girl from the country. The differences in their ages and experience should have kept them apart. And Calloway was still a large, fierce, battle-scarred soldier, no matter that his heart seemed gentle.
“How do you know he is the man you should marry?” Allie asked.
“Do you remember that day you found me in that alley and Mr. Calloway picked me up as if I were naught but a feather? He told me not to cry, else he would drop me in the gutter.”
“How, ah, sweet.”
“But then he said he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, and he called me a little chick and he rubbed my back so I wouldn’t be afraid. And I wasn’t, not with him there. And I reckon I’ll never be afraid again. He made sure that dreadful man Fedder knew I had friends now. But we’re a lot more’n friends,” she whispered, blushing. “Do you believe in love at first sight, Miss Silver?”
“I do not know about that, but I believe a successful marriage depends on respect and common interests and trust.”
“Maybe that’s how swells pick their spouses. But I know I’d rather be with Mr. Calloway than with any other man I’ve ever met. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. And we’ll make a new life together, with bairns in common, if I am so blessed.”
“Then I wish you the very best. What say we find a special bolt of fabric this time, for your wedding dress?”
“Oh, Cap’n Jack already gave me coins for that. I’ve been looking, while we picked out dress lengths for you and Miss Harriet.”
“Very well, but since I am not paying for my new clothes, I can easily afford to purchase you a trousseau. What do you think about a pretty nightgown?”
Patsy looked back and Calloway winked at her.
Patsy blushed even redder, but said, “I think that would be a waste, ma’am. But I have always wanted a silk petticoat.”
“Then a silk petticoat you shall have, and silk stockings too. Does that meet with your approval, Calloway?”
His grin, with one gold tooth, said enough.
*
Allie asked Lady Margery next, when they were at Gunter’s having ices and making lists of more dressmakers and more ensembles Allie should commission. Harriet was on her second dish. Joker was on his third.
“Why, I always knew Harold and I were meant to be together. Do you believe in Destiny, Cousin?”
“That people were fated to meet, fall in love, and spend their lives together? I am not certain.”
“Well, I do. I believe there is one perfect match for everyone. Harold is mine.”
Harriet was not interested in talk of love or marriage, especially when the women were not speaking of Cap’n Jack’s marriage. “Are you going to finish your lemon ice, Allie? If not can I bring it home for Kitty?”
“Yes, I am going to finish it. No, you cannot bring one home for the cat.” Allie was not finished plumbing
her cousin’s opinions of the weighty topics. She had not supposed Lady Margery had a deep thought beyond the cut of her gowns, but the young woman did seem to know about romance. “But how do you know?”
Margery had to think a moment, which meant she had to put her spoon down and put a finger on her chin. “Have you ever seen a bonnet in a shop window and thought it was absolutely what you had been looking for your entire life? No, I do not suppose you have, not when you wear such atrocious hats.”
Allie had decided that visits to the milliners could wait. Jack’s sister was not likely to be working at one of those, and until she had selected all the fabric and styles for her gowns, she would not want to choose a bonnet that might not match. “But what if when you enter the shop and try on the bonnet, it does not suit?”
“It must, if it is the right one. It will not only fit perfectly, but it will make you look and feel more beautiful than you are. Just putting it on makes you happy. No, just knowing you own it makes you happy. That’s how I feel about Harold.”
“Like he’s a hat?” Harriet asked. “That’s silly.”
Lady Margery sniped back: “Not as silly as taking that dumb dog with you on a shopping trip.”
“Joker is a big help. He wanders around and I can follow him without anyone thinking anything of it. So I can look in the back rooms and see if there are any pretty young women named Queenie there.”
“You are doing an excellent job, Harriet,” Allie said, “but please do not let Joker eat any more of the poor seamstresses’ meals. They do not earn a great deal and might have gone hungry if I had not carried so much money with me. And I cannot charge that expense to your trustees, since it was due to my laxity. Why do you not go see if Hawkins and Lundy want an ice?”
When Harriet left, Margery continued with her favorite subject: Harold. “I know he is not the best looking beau, or the fittest, or the wisest. And he does not have a title yet, and never will have a great fortune. But he loves me. And I love him. He will never dishonor me or disappoint me.”
Allie sighed and pushed her plate away, unfinished after all because she was full, of envy.
“And he makes me tingle, too. I feel all shivery whenever he’s nearby. How could I ever think about another man?”
How indeed?
*
Darla turned philosopher too. “Me and Downie?” The moonstruck look on the dealer’s face answered most of Allie’s questions, but Darla was all too happy to talk of her beloved Mr. Downs. “Do you believe in luck, Miss Silver?”
Allie put away the story book she was having her adult students read. “Do you mean like not walking under ladders and tossing salt over your shoulder?”
“No, that’s superstition. I mean like being in the right place at the right time. You see, I was set to find myself a protector. I know I shouldn’t be talking about such things to a lady like yourself, but it’s true. That’s not what I was raised up to do, but no man I wanted to marry ever made an offer, and a girl’s got to eat, doesn’t she?”
Allie knew how few opportunities existed for a female, so she nodded her understanding.
“Well, then I heard they were hiring here. And there he was, sitting at his desk. And then Cap’n Jack told me to start a diversion, and there he was.”
“Luck?”
Darla handed her the jar of chalks. “Good luck. I’ve known my fair share of men, chaps with more money and better looks, but they none of them ever appealed to me. Downie does. I know he limps, but that makes him easier to love, ’cause he’s not perfect, and my curly hair never stays neat anyway. He’s too serious, but I’m too flighty. He’s kind of quiet, but I talk too much. You see? We match. It’s like he’s the other half of me that I never knew I was missing. And it was just luck that made me come here.”
Allie had come to The Red and the Black because she had nowhere else to go. Only time would tell if that was good luck or bad luck. She made a neater stack of the chalk boards the students had been using.
Darla straightened the chairs. “Now I want to share everything with him, my dreams, my future, my children. Even the air I breathe. Oh, he’s the one for me, all right. And I mean to get him in front of a vicar before he changes his mind. Or some other girl sees what a prize he is. Just a few more weeks now. I can’t wait.”
She hadn’t. Her wedding dress was already having to be let out.
*
“Do you believe in second chances, Miss Silver?” Mary Crandall asked. “I do.” She passed the plate of sweet breakfast rolls across the table in their sitting room. “I never thought I’d find another man, you see. I loved my Joseph, and he was a good husband, when he wasn’t being a soldier. But that was a young love, all groping and giddyup. I didn’t know anything, not how hard it would be following the drum or waiting for him not to come back from battle.”
Allie could not imagine the strength it took to survive both love and war. She poured Mary another cup of chocolate.
“Oh, I know what the others are saying about me and Mr. Burquist. Cream pot love, they’re calling it. But they’re wrong. I have my pension now, thanks to Cap’n Jack. I don’t need the solicitor’s money, but I do need him. And he needs me. No, not to run his household, but to keep him from settling into a crabby, cranky old man. No one wants to be alone forever, or have nothing but a cat for company. And he’s not too old, if you know what I mean.”
Allie knew what she meant: tingles, trust, together forever. Too late, Allie realized. She believed she was in love.
*
Jack was also making inquiries. “Marriage is such a big step, Downs. Are you completely certain, for once the rest of the banns are read, there is no going back without disgrace.”
“Are you questioning me because of Darla, Captain?” The former soldier looked ready to take up his pistols again. “Because she is one of the women of the club and you think I could have bedded her without benefit of clergy?”
Jack held up his hands in surrender and apology. “No, no, not at all. It’s just that marriage is so permanent.”
“And sex isn’t. I know, and I would not have it—or Darla—any other way. I know you saw us in a compromising position.”
Compromising, hell. The two were copulating in the broom closet. Jack cleared his throat, denying opening the door to see who was moaning inside. “It was too dark.”
“But it’s not just about sex. I want to be with her forever, even when we are too old and decrepit to sneak around corners and make love in hackney carriages or under the craps table.”
Good grief. Jack wondered if he should purchase the pair a special license, but the wedding was soon, and he supposed a few weeks would not make much difference in the appearance of their first child. He hoped they did not name the babe Roulette or something, in commemoration.
“She makes me happy,” Downs was saying, “and I want to spend my life making her happy in return. And she’ll keep her vows, if that’s what has you worried, the same as I will. The idea of laying with another woman leaves me cold. The notion of another man touching my Darla…” His hands formed into fists. “Well, I might not be agile enough to take up swords, but I can still shoot. That’s another thing. Darla doesn’t mind that I will always limp. I can’t dance or take her for long walks in the countryside, which bothers me, let me tell you. But she says it makes me more attractive, like that Byron chap. As long as she doesn’t expect me to spout poetry, that’s fine. And she is learning to read, for me, she says. How could I not love her?”
“I cannot imagine. Just do try for a bit of discretion, will you?”
“We did lock the wine cellar door. How were we to know Calloway and Patsy were already there?”
*
“It ain’t just the sex, Cap’n, I swear. Nor that I feel protective of the little dab of a thing either. She’s safe enough now, and I still want to look after her.”
“But marriage? At your age?”
“I’m not all that old, begging your pardon. Just had a hard l
ife, is all. And I aim to have an easier one from now on. Not finding a different woman every time I want my itch scratched, not going drinking all night for something to do. Not getting into brawls for the hell of it. No, I aim to be a good husband to my gal. She deserves it.”
“I am sure she does. Patsy seems a likeable sort, and she is doing an admirable job with Harriet and Miss Silver.” Both were looking better by the day, prettier, neater, more like ladies than street sweepers.
Calloway’s massive chest puffed out in pride. “She is learning her trade all right and tight. And she’ll keep doing it, until she has a bairn of her own.”
“Not too soon. Please.”
Calloway grinned his gilded smile. “I told you, it ain’t just about the sex. My Patsy’s as sweet as sugar and soft as a summer shower. As pretty as any of those pictures in those museums you go to, too. And she loves me, crusty old soldier that I am, tattoos and all. Do you know how that makes a man feel? Ten feet tall, Cap’n, ten feet tall.”
“Yes, well, carry on, Calloway,” Jack said, then hastily added, “but not at Carde House. I wouldn’t want Harriet to see anything unfit for her tender eyes.”
“Then I guess I can’t show her my new tattoo like I promised. It’s Patsy, spelled out on my—”
Jack left. He didn’t want to know.
*
Jack felt foolish asking the solicitor his intentions, but he felt he owed it to Sergeant Crandall’s memory to make sure Burquist was not playing fast and loose with the dead man’s widow.
“That’s none of your business, sir,” the older man puffed. “But I will tell you that I am not one of you young rakehells, acting the tomcat about town, so you can stop glaring at me that way. I have never kept a mistress, not in all my years. I fully intend to marry Mary Crandall, if she will have me, as soon as I can accustom myself to the idea. I have spent my entire life alone, dining when I wish, visiting my clubs when I feel like it. I never thought of having things any other way until Mary Crandall came by and made me realize how lonely I was, when I did not have to be. Changing my ways will be hard, though.” He looked down at his lap, speaking of hard, and smiled for something he’d thought he’d lost. “But Mary is worth it. Not that this is about sex, of course.”
Jack of Clubs Page 25
