Dance of Seduction (35 page)

“It’s all right,” Clara broke in. “You didn’t kill him.”

Lucy lifted a face ravaged with tears. “What?”

“He’s fine. You only nicked him a bit.”

“But I saw him slide down that wall! I saw him! I saw the blood!”

“What blood?” Samuel asked as he burst into the room behind Lucy, then skidded to a halt when he saw Clara standing in her wrapper. He blushed a deep red. “Begging your pardon, m’lady, but they told me downstairs that Lucy was here and I been looking all over for her.”

Clara bit back a smile. “It’s all right, Samuel. Lucy and I were just discussing something. It doesn’t concern you, so you can—”

“Oh, Samuel!” Lucy cried and threw herself into Samuel’s arms, putting the lie to Clara’s claim. “I done an awful thing! You got to help me!”

“There, there,” Samuel murmured soothingly as he cast Clara a quizzical look. “It’ll be all right.”

“I shot him, Samuel! I shot the captain with Papa’s gun!”

“Captain Pryce is fine, as I told you,” Clara broke in
firmly. She’d had about enough of these dramatics. “You needn’t worry about it any more.”

“Lady Clara’s right,” Samuel added as he stroked Lucy’s hair. “The cap’n is perfectly fine. Just a bit sore in the leg. And I brought your gun back, see?” Samuel held it up.

“You did?” Lucy took it from him with one hand while she scrubbed tears away with the other. “And you’re sure he’s all right? He ain’t gonna tell the police and have me hanged?”

“They don’t hang you for shooting somebody,” Samuel said dryly. “Just for killing them. Which you didn’t do. And no, he ain’t gonna do nothing to you.” He smiled and rubbed a wayward tear from her cheek. “What’s even better, he’s sending your brother home to you. Johnny’s coming home, so you have naught to worry about, do you hear?”

Lucy’s face lit up, and she sniffled. “Truly?”

“Johnny’s outside waiting for you, I swear. Captain Pryce told him he had to take care of his sister, so that’s what he’s gonna do.”

“Did you hear that?” Lucy exclaimed, beaming at Clara. “And it’s all your doing, too. You talked to him, didn’t you? After I…I was so foolish and nearly kilt you both. You talked to the cap’n and made him send Johnny home.”

Clara figured Morgan’s actions had more to do with the escalating situation with the Specter, but she couldn’t say that, so she just shrugged. Too late, she realized what Lucy’s words must mean to Samuel, for his face had darkened and he was staring at her.

“What’s Lucy talking about?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Were you with Cap’n Pryce last night when he was shot?”

Before Clara could chime in, Lucy answered, “You leave her be, Samuel. She was spying on him when I went to talk to him…when I nearly kilt him. She looked after him, didn’t you, Lady Clara?”

Clara could see in Samuel’s eyes that he suspected ex
actly what she’d done in “looking after” Morgan. But how could he guess? She couldn’t believe Morgan would have said anything.

“Lucy, go wait in the hall for me,” Samuel said. “I got to talk to m’lady in private.”

Lucy hesitated, glancing nervously from Clara to Samuel. Then she sighed and left the room.

Clara couldn’t breathe. Heavens, it was already happening—the suspicions, the lies she’d have to tell. What had she been thinking last night when she’d recklessly thrown herself into Morgan’s arms? This could mean disaster for her reputation, for the Home…

Well, she wouldn’t let it come to that. She wouldn’t. She hated lying to Samuel, but it couldn’t be helped. The alternative was too awful to contemplate. Clara waited until the girl was gone and then said in her most imperious voice, “Yes, what is it?”

Samuel met her gaze stubbornly. “The cap’n had a woman spend the night with him last night. In his bedchamber.”

Alarm churned in her belly. “He told you that?”

“Didn’t have to. I could smell it.”

Smell it? Good Lord, that was something she hadn’t prepared for. “I can’t see what the captain’s having a woman in his room might have to do with me.”

“Lucy says you were there at his shop.”

“And if I was?”

“I’m not talking about some friendly visit, mind you.” He swallowed, then added, “He had a woman in his bed.”

“Samuel!” Clara cried, summoning all the shock she could convey. “You cannot possibly believe that
I
was the woman.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at her. “Then what were you doing inside his shop? At night? Alone with him? And don’t try to deny it. I could smell that scent you always wear.”

Clara cast Samuel her Stanbourne Stare, reminding herself that he might seem like a friend at times, but he could still destroy her life with one wayward word. “Not that it’s any of your affair, Samuel, but Captain Pryce was hurt, so yes, I went into his bedchamber long enough to dress his wound. That’s all. Then I came back here and spent the night.” God forgive her for such a blatant lie.

Thankfully, her words seemed to bring him up short. “But his shop smelled of…” He trailed off uncertainly as she glared at him. “I mean…”

She didn’t have to pretend the blush that rose to her cheeks. “Even if Captain Pryce had been in any condition to engage in the sort of inappropriate…behavior that you imply, I would never, ever do such a thing.”

Apparently, it had begun to dawn on him how outrageous was the accusation he was making. “Well, I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t…I mean…”

“Why, the man is a fence,” she protested, tamping down on her guilt at lying so egregiously. “If you think that I would ever—”

“I wasn’t thinking! That is…” He hung his head, suitably chastened. “Aw, m’lady, I didn’t mean it how it sounded. I’m only worried about you is all.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s got his eye on you—anybody can see that. But I know you would never consort with his kind.”

“Certainly not,” Clara went on, satisfied that she’d convinced him not to believe the truth. But that wouldn’t work more than once, and she didn’t think she could stomach lying to him again. Which made it all the more imperative that she stay away from Morgan until this matter of the Specter was finished. “Have you any more appalling accusations to make, Samuel?”

Flushing crimson, he shook his head, and she felt another
spurt of guilt. Still, it was frightening how perceptive Samuel was.

“Good,” she said, determined to put the matter behind them. “Now I have a concern of my own regarding that pistol of Lucy’s.”

“Don’t you worry none,” he said, clearly relieved to abandon the subject himself. “I ain’t letting Lucy shoot nobody else.”

“She shouldn’t carry such a weapon when she doesn’t know how to use it.”

“I agree, m’lady. I’ll take care of it, I will. I’ll take care of it right now.” Turning on his heel, he walked out into the hall.

Clara followed, curious to see how he would handle the agitated girl. Lucy had wandered down to the foyer, where she was peering out the front window, obviously looking for Johnny.

“Lucy,” Samuel announced as he and Clara approached, “I’m going to teach you how to shoot.”

“What?” Clara said as Lucy whirled to face them. That was not what she’d had in mind.

Samuel cast Clara an apologetic glance. “It’s better for her to have protection in these parts. But if I teach her how to use it all proper-like, then she can’t hurt nobody.”

“But Samuel—”

“Yes!” Lucy exclaimed. “Teach me how, Samuel. I asked Mr. Fitch to do it, but he wouldn’t. He says girls have no business carrying pistols.”

“He might be right about that,” Clara mumbled, thinking of how wildly Lucy had brandished the pistol last night.

“I’m gonna teach you, and that’s that,” Samuel said stoutly. “I don’t care what your Mr. Fitch thinks.”

A troubled expression crossed Lucy’s face. “Mr. Fitch
will already be sore that I’m taking Johnny back. He’s not going to like
that
one bit.”

“Lucy,” Clara said softly, “don’t you think you’d be better off with a man who’d accept your brothers?”

“No if I can’t support them,” she said woefully. “Rodney’s got that big house of his, and they wouldn’t be no trouble if he could just get to like them—”

“Let ‘Rodney’ keep his big house,” Samuel put in fiercely. Stepping up beside Lucy, he laid his arm on the back of her shoulder. “I can look after you and the boys if you’d only let me.”

Lucy glanced uncertainly from Samuel to Clara. What the girl’s heart wanted was clear, but her mind still worked against her. “You got no place to keep us, Sam.”

“I’ll find a place. Lady Clara will help us, won’t you, m’lady?”

He cast her a look of such desperate appeal that her heart ached for him. “Yes, I’ll help you. And perhaps I can find a job for you that would allow you to support a wife—”

“A wife!” Lucy exclaimed, ducking her head shyly. “Oh, no, m’lady, Sam ain’t thinking of marrying me.”

“Ain’t I?” Samuel retorted. When Lucy lifted her face to his in surprise, he added, “I’m old enough to marry—nigh on to twenty years old. And…and I want to take care of you and the boys, honest I do.” Tears filled her eyes, and he brushed one away with his thumb. “Aw, Lucy, I been in love with you since forever, practically since the first day I realized I was a man. You just forget that Fitch and marry
me
. The rest will take care of itself.”

Lucy still hadn’t said anything, was just staring at him dumbstruck. So Samuel took matters into his own hands, pulled her close, and kissed her.

Clara turned away, wanting to give them privacy and hide
her own tears of joy for Lucy. And if she were honest, her tears of envy, too. She would give anything to have Morgan want her as much as Samuel clearly wanted Lucy. Watching them kiss so sweetly was almost more than she could bear this morning.

She had no time to dwell on it, however, for the front door swung suddenly open, and her aunt’s cheerful voice echoed over the threshold.

“This, Lord Winthrop, is the Home,” Aunt Verity announced. Then as Clara groaned and turned toward the door, a little squeak sounded from her aunt. “Good lack-a-daisy, what is going on here?”

Good lack-a-daisy indeed. Lord Winthrop had apparently made good on his threat to volunteer his services at the Home. His eyes were agog as he took in first the kissing couple and then Clara standing motionless, still draped in her nightgown and wrapper and nothing else.

“What sort of heathen place is this?” he boomed. “There’s a boy lolling about out front looking suspicious…people in here behaving like animals…why, this man has a pistol sticking out of his pocket…and I say, Lady Clara, where are your clothes?”

Clara sighed. Five hours of sleep would definitely not be enough to see her through
this
day.

Chapter 20

A Mushroom their Table, and on it was laid
A Water-dock Leaf, which a Table-cloth made.
The Butterfly’s Ball, and the
Grasshopper’s Feast,
William Roscoe

T
hree days. Morgan couldn’t believe he and Clara had been apart three days. It felt like three months. Three years. It felt like an eternity.

Bon Dieu
, what had the wench done to him? She consumed his waking thoughts and bedeviled his dreams. The craving for her ate at him like a sickness, for which she was the only cure.

So he saw her the only way he could. Every morning, he made sure to be busy in front of the shop when her coach came by to bring her to the Home. Every evening, he watched from the same place as Samuel handed her back into the coach to go home. He’d even contrived once or twice to be heading to the tavern in the evening so he could pass her
on the street, perversely wanting to test her determination to stay away from him.

She never gave him so much as a glance.

Today, she would give him more than that, he vowed as he strode up the street to her Home. He had come on a mission, and all her stubbornness wouldn’t stop him.

Because tonight he was meeting the Specter. The man had already sent a message to say that Morgan should await his instructions at the shop at 8
P.M
. Less than twelve hours from now, Morgan would be embarking on the most dangerous encounter of his life, and before it happened he wanted time with her. He deserved it, by God. He’d lived by her rules for three days. Now she could give him a few hours.

He’d nearly reached the Home when he noticed two children sitting in the shadow of the stone stairs, curled up together and giggling. Then they spotted him, and the giggling stopped. The boy grew sullen, and the girl went pale. Morgan tipped his hat to them, but as he started to climb the stairs, the boy sprang to his feet and leaped up onto the stairs in front of Morgan, blocking his path.

The boy jerked his shoulder toward the door. “You going in there?”

“I’d like to. If you’ll get out of my way.”

“All right. But if you please, sir, would you keep it quiet that you saw me and Mary out here?”

Morgan glanced over to where the girl eyed him curiously over the steps. “Why?”

Mary piped up. “If Lady Clara knows we’re out here, she’ll make me and David go back in. Then we’ll have to put up with Winter.”

“Winter?” Morgan gazed up at the clear spring sky, wondering what the hell she meant.

“It’s
Lord
Winter, silly,” David corrected the girl. “Not just ‘Winter.’ Odsfish, Mary, don’t you know nothing?”

Lord Winter? Could they mean Winthrop? It had to be. And the idea of that pompous idiot spending time in Clara’s Home didn’t sit well with Morgan.

“What’s Lord ‘Winter’ doing here?” he asked.

David tucked his thumbs in his trouser pockets. “He’s been coming here for three days. Says he wants to help, but I think he just wants to keep an eye on Lady Clara, ’cause when she ain’t around, he acts like he don’t really like being here.”

“I see. And what’s he doing now?”

“He’s supposed to be reading to us while Lady Clara works in her office.”

“But he’s awful at reading.” Mary rolled her dark eyes expressively. “He won’t read us stories at all. He reads these…what d’you call ’em, David?”

“Homilies.” As David made a sour face, a shock of fine brown hair fell into his hazel eyes. “It’s worse than the Bible Mrs. Carter reads afore bedtime. At least there’s stories in the Bible. But this is just ‘don’t do this’ and ‘don’t do that’ is all.”