“I fear — what I mean to say is — ”
“You can tell me anything. Don’t be
afraid to speak your heart, Constance.”
There was only one way to say it.
“I may be with child.”
Simon’s eyes grew larger than the
cannon balls she’d seen on the
Octavia
’s
deck and then narrowed with an intensity
she’d never seen before.
“I understand if you want nothing
more to do with me,” she confided,
sensing she’d lost his respect. Her heart
clenched. “I’m a disgrace. No one
knows that more than I.”
He reached for her shoulders and
embraced
her
close.
“You
misunderstand, Constance,” he said.
“Have I not already brought enough
scandal to our door?”
“Nonsense. Nonsense,” he cooed.
After a slight silence, he asked, “Who’s
the child’s father?” His voice was
strained. His expression unreadable.
“You must already know.”
“Sexton,” he hissed. His voice held
a finality that made her cringe.
“How do you know that name?”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“That is none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is,” she said. “No one
can know the truth.” That within
Thomas’s arms, for a few short days,
she’d felt safe. That she’d loved a man
and now feared for her unborn child. “I
fear this news has forced Papa’s hand
where Burton is concerned. Truth be
told, I believe it will only persuade him
to see a marriage between us come to
speedy fruition,” she confided.
Simon drew back and massaged her
hands. “No question.”
“My behavior has been shameful,”
she tearfully admitted. “I’ve decided to
run away rather than impress my
disgrace upon the family.”
“No,” he said abruptly. He shook
his head and broke away, running his
hands through his hair. “Where would
you go? What would you do to support
yourself and the child? No. No,” he
repeated. “I cannot allow it.”
“What do you suggest? That I
sacrifice my life? Willingly marry a man
who would more than likely kill my
child?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” His face
reddened. Then, after a moment’s pause,
fire faded from his eyes and sanity took
hold. He took a few deep breaths.
“There is another way.”
“No, the die has been cast.” Tears
of humiliation cascaded down her
cheeks. Simon had already sacrificed his
relationship with her father for her
scheme to reach Lydia. She couldn’t
bear to watch him suffer more on her
behalf.
“I can convince someone to take
Burton’s place. It will take some doing,
but it can be done. First, you must
promise not to run away.”
“I cannot.” She blinked, unable to
make that kind of vow. “What can you
possibly do?” she asked. “The ball is in
just under a week and Papa plans to
announce my engagement then.”
“I’ve got a suitable idea. One I’m
sure will please him immensely.” He set
about straightening his jacket and cast
his gaze about the room, looking for his
gloves.
“What idea?” she asked, barely
capable of hope.
“If I can find another willing man to
ask for your hand, would you accept?”
The question startled her. What if
the man was an old curmudgeon? Was it
even possible to find someone that
would be willing to supply her father’s
financial demands? She had no dowry,
nothing to separate her from the crowd
of tempting young misses. Placing her
hand over her abdomen, Constance
wondered who would marry a woman
already carrying another man’s child.
Her baby needed a protector. If she did
not marry, he would be without one. If
she did, how long would her child
survive?
Simon grew impatient to be off.
“Would you accept a man of my
choice?”
Their eyes locked. His hopeful,
hers welling with tears. “If I approve of
the gentleman — then yes.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders
and hugged her close. “Are sure you are
with child? Perhaps your fears aren’t
warranted.”
“Morty says we shall know soon
enough.” She choked on a sob. “In either
case, I’m in desperate need of a
husband.”
“Then we shall activate a plan to
outwit your father and Burton, at once. If
we succeed, I guarantee you a better life
than you ever imagined possible.”
Constance hugged him close, never
wanting to be parted. Her heart raced
with anticipation. Simon had always
come to her rescue. She needed him now
more than ever.
“Thank you. Thank you, Uncle!” she
exclaimed, feeling at peace for the first
time in weeks.
“Do not thank me until the deed is
done,” he confessed.
“But where will you find such a
man? Do you already have a name? Will
you have to go far to find him?”
He kissed her cheek tenderly. “A
name and the perfect fit, my dear. Never
doubt it. You’ve placed your confidence
in me and I will not trifle it away. But
you must be patient.”
“Make haste then, uncle. I’ve not
much time to lose.”
• • •
his list. Tired and losing patience, he
swallowed another cup of ale he’d
acquired at the Cat’s Hole and scanned
the unruly crowd, searching for familiar
faces. Jacko had sent word that the name
Josiah Cane had fluctuated about taverns
near the warehouses along the Thames
for days. He’d already been to the Red
Lion and the Anchor. Apparently Cane
had been frequenting establishments
along the coast, spreading rumors of a
certain lady’s demoralizing stay upon a
pirate ship recently confiscated by the
war office. Day by day, whispers of this
particular lady’s conquests were passed
along London’s inner city streets.
Inwardly, Percy wanted to throttle Cane
for putting Constance in such an
indelicate position. It was only a matter
of time before his insinuations reached
the ton.
Wanting to put an end to the string
of gossip, he’d spent the past few days
patronizing
various
drinking
and
gambling establishments in the guise of
Thomas Sexton. He was known along the
docks for being unmanageable, which
made him easily accepted by the rowdy
patrons.
His disguise took more care now
that he was clean shaven, but, thanks to
Ollie’s skill with theatrics after a hiatus
with the opera house, it was not an
impossible feat to pull off. Skilled at
deception, no one seemed the wiser as
Percy grasped his mug in a meaty fist
and chugged down the last drop in one
gulp. Crashing the cup on the counter, he
caught the attention of a redheaded
barmaid.
“What’s your pleasure, gov’na?”
she crooned, winking.
Here was his chance. He grabbed
her by the neck and planted a hearty kiss
on her lips. “Aye,” he said. “You’ve a
pair of lips to tempt a starving man. My
cup is empty, wench. What say you?”
Shifting her ample bosom against
his chest, she posed what he assumed
was her most attractive enticement.
“What’ll you have?”
Unfazed, his eyes scanned the room
over the top of the tart’s head. A
movement caught his attention. A man
stood, clamoring to leave against an
assailment of protests. Percy hugged the
barmaid close, feigning interest, all the
while measuring up the man as he
chortled to his friends.
“I’ve a mind to accept what you’re
offering, lass. But who’s making such a
ruckus?”
Eager for attention, the wench
laughingly craned her head around his
shoulder. “That gent be no stranger here.
Name’s Cane. At least that’s the name he
uses. One can never be sure with these
ruffians.”
“Josiah Cane?” he probed, the
sound slipping easily off his tongue.
“One and the same.” She winked.
“Do you know the gent?”
Know him? He wanted to pulverize
the man.
“Shall we go up to my room for a
tup?” she asked, grinding against him.
Percy took a coin out of his pocket
and smiled devilishly as her eyes lit up.
Depositing the gold piece between her
breasts, he tapped the tip of her nose.
She laughed suggestively, shaking her
bosom to ensure the money was secure.
He grinned and peeled her arms
from his neck. “That’s a lovely offer,
but, unfortunately, I have business to
attend and must see it fully serviced.”
She shook her curls, whipping them
about her face, and licked her lips.
“Come love, can you not spare an hour
for your own servicing? You’re such a
strong buck,” she said, stroking his arms
in appreciation. “Built like a stone wall,
you are. I’d do anything for a man like
you.”
“Anything?” he asked, suddenly
intrigued.
“Yes,” she panted, her pouting lips
poised for another kiss.
He bent near her ear and whispered
his most heartfelt desire. Her eyes
rounded
then
narrowed
with
understanding. She nodded and moved
toward the inner room, swaying her hips
seductively, glancing back over her
shoulder to ensure he watched her
performance. One or two men slapped
her buttocks along the way. Apparently
the affront did not affect her because she
laughed and continued toward her target,
checking as she did so to make sure the
gold piece did not loosen from its hiding
place.
Josiah Cane stood in the midst of a
crowd, his drunken revelry absorbing
quite a bit of attention. Patrons’ eyes
blazed with riotous laughter when the
barmaid neared him and grabbed him by
the groin. The redhead draped herself
along Cane’s side, sliding her hands
over his manhood to his chest and back
again. Patrons egged her on, cajoling her
to grope them when she was finished
with Cane.
“Get away from me!” the spindly
man roared aloud.
Laughter echoed off the rafters. The
barmaid flinched as Cane tried to swat
her away like an insect. Unperturbed, the
woman made a comment about his
inability to rouse to her ministrations.
Percy watched as Cane shoved past the
brilliant actress and then pressed his
way through the crowd until he reached
the door and broke through it at a
breakneck pace. The barmaid turned
back toward Percy, smiling like a feline
intent on cleaning her fur. Percy nodded
his thanks and meandered toward the
door. Exiting the building, he sighted
Cane walking briskly in the distance.
Ducking here and there, Percy followed
him down Thames Street and into Black
Raven Alley, keeping to the shadows.
Fog descended upon the street,
casually slipping over Cane as he
stepped into the opaque haze. Percy
quickened his pace. Wafts of moisture
clung to his skin, bringing with it a chill
that seeped into his bones. Thoughts of
Celeste and Constance were his constant
companions, challenging him not to lose
Cane as he monitored the man’s
advancement past warehouses toward
the wharf.
Every now and again, he was
forced to duck out of sight. When Percy
was sure he hadn’t been spotted, he
slipped back out onto the street, and
resumed his chase, darting in and out of
alleyways, and climbing a stone
partition until he stopped at a deserted
warehouse. Hiding within the entrance
of a white-washed facade, adjacent to
Cane, Percy watched the man knock
once on the ramshackle masonry, then
three consecutive times. The door grated
open slowly. Percy slinked closer,
repositioning himself to better glimpse
the man who appeared on the threshold.