The next morning, Morgan was in the alley showing Samuel how to hide his knife so no one would find it when Johnny came out through the open side door, towing an older boy. “This fellow says he’s got to talk to you, Cap’n.”
Morgan recognized Ravenswood’s lackey at once. “Thanks, Johnny.” When the lad stood there as if waiting to hear all the particulars, Morgan scowled at him and said pointedly, “Didn’t I teach you better than to leave the shop unattended?”
With a mumbled oath, Johnny returned to the shop, dragging his feet every step. Morgan waited until he was sure the curious boy was out of hearing, then excused himself to Samuel and pulled his visitor around the corner.
“Sorry, Bill, but you’ll have to come back. It’s barely been a week, and I forgot all about the report.”
“I ain’t here for that, sir. Our mutual friend says he must speak to you. Tonight, at Lord Merrington’s ball. Our friend is attending, and he wants you there, too.”
A ball? “Can’t he meet me anywhere more private?”
“He don’t have time. He said to remind you that nobody at the ball would know you from this sphere.”
Except Lady Clara. No, that wasn’t probable. Ravenswood had already said she rarely attended social events, except to solicit funds. Merrington’s ball wouldn’t be the best place for that—it was a known marriage mart. Plus which, Ravenswood said she avoided those anyway, so he ought to be safe.
“Shall I tell his lordship that you’ll be there?” Bill asked.
Morgan still hesitated. Tonight it would be a week since his encounter with the Specter. The man would want his an
swer. Then again, it might be better
not
to be here when the Specter showed up. The bastard might get angry enough to make a mistake. And it wouldn’t do for Morgan to look too eager.
“Yes, I’ll be there. I’ll give him my report then, too.” When Bill started to leave, Morgan stayed him. “Did he say what this is about?”
“Only that complications had arisen requiring your attention.”
That was intriguing. “Thanks, Bill.”
After the lad left, Morgan returned to the alley, deep in thought. He’d need to dress at his brother’s town house, his only real home in London. He kept no clothing appropriate for a ball here. And there was Johnny to consider. He dared not leave the boy alone when the Specter might show up.
He smiled. Funny how automatic it had become to consider Johnny in every situation. In only three days, the boy’s education had become as important to his life as Samuel’s morning lessons and the business of being a fence. In truth, Morgan had come to realize why Clara was so concerned for the lad. Johnny had potential. He had a sharp mind, a sturdy and quick body, and, when he wasn’t posturing and pretending not to care about anything, an eager disposition. With the right influences, Johnny might actually succeed in the navy.
If
he could curb his tendency to flout authority.
Samuel looked up as he came down the alley. “Everything all right, Cap’n?”
“Yes.” Morgan studied Samuel a moment. “I need a favor from you.”
“I’ll do my best, sir. But if it concerns m’lady—”
“No. It concerns Johnny. I have to be out this evening, and I want him looked after in the interim. Is there anywhere you could bring him to stay just for tonight?”
Samuel screwed up his face in thought. “I s’pose he could sleep in the Stanbourne servant quarters. I could keep him with me until late, then sneak him in after all the servants is asleep. S’long as it’s just for one night—”
“That’s all—one night. You can bring him back here early tomorrow morning.”
“If you’re worried he might steal from you while you’re gone, I don’t think—”
“It’s not that. I merely don’t want him here alone.”
“Why not?” came a peevish voice behind him.
Morgan turned, then groaned to find Johnny in the doorway, looking raw and vulnerable. “You’re supposed to be minding the shop,” Morgan said.
“I been doing good, ain’t I?” Johnny said plaintively. “I been careful and working hard and—”
“It’s got naught to do with you, my boy. You’ve been a very loyal and trustworthy assistant, I assure you.”
Samuel cleared his throat. “I could stay here with him if you want.”
“No!” Morgan said sharply. The last thing he needed was Samuel and Johnny both tangling with the Specter. “I don’t want either of you here tonight. Understood?”
When they hung their heads, he rolled his eyes. This was what came of being responsible for civilians. They didn’t follow orders, and they got their feelings hurt when you didn’t explain anything. It was damned annoying.
“You’ll have to trust me on this. I have my reasons.” He softened his tone. “I need you both to do this for me. It’s important.” Taking out a guinea, he flipped it to Johnny, whose eyes went round as he caught it in the air. “The two of you go out and enjoy yourselves. See a cockfight or a prizefight or something. Have a good meal and some ale. Just stay away from here until tomorrow morning, all right?”
With a nod, they both brightened, and he hid a smile. Amazing what a guinea would do to smooth over a pickpocket’s objections.
The rest of the day couldn’t pass quickly enough for Morgan, who’d grown tense wondering what “complications” had worried Ravenswood so much. When he sent Samuel and Johnny off together in the early evening and closed up shop, he wasted no time heading for his brother’s town house.
He realized something was wrong, however, the moment he entered the town house and the butler called him “my lord,” blinked, and then corrected himself. The only time Sebastian’s servants confused the two twins was when both were in town.
Confound it all to hell.
“Morgan, is that you?” his sister-in-law cried as she hurried out of the drawing room. Juliet broke into a smile when she spotted him. “It
is
you! Oh, but it’s good to see you. Sebastian was terribly disappointed when we arrived yesterday to find that you weren’t in residence.”
She greeted him with a hug, then belatedly noticed his scruffy attire. Holding him at arm’s length, she surveyed him carefully. “Why are you dressed like that? For goodness’ sake, you look like a vagrant.”
“I…um…well…”
Her eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been getting into trouble again, have you? The terms of our wager—”
“I remember the terms of our wager, never fear.” He just hadn’t been adhering to them, that’s all. He cast her a fond smile. “My grubby clothing has naught to do with our wager.” Not as far as he was concerned, anyway.
“Apparently, Morgan’s been doing charitable work at the Home for the Reformation of Pickpockets,” explained another voice as familiar to Morgan as his own. Sebastian
strode into the foyer, eyeing his brother with a mixture of affection and suspicion. “Or so Ravenswood claims.”
“You spoke to Ravenswood?” Morgan asked. Was this the complication that alarmed Ravenswood? It didn’t seem likely. Ravenswood didn’t care one whit if Sebastian knew what Morgan was up to.
“I saw your friend this morning,” Sebastian remarked. “When you didn’t come home last night and the servants admitted you hadn’t been sleeping here, I thought he might know why.”
Morgan tried to determine from Sebastian’s expression whether Ravenswood had revealed Morgan’s current undertaking, but he couldn’t tell. He truly hated lying to his brother, but the alternative would put him on the outs with both Sebastian and his sweet wife, which Morgan didn’t relish.
So he merely kept evading. “Actually, I’ve been sleeping in Spitalfields. Lady Clara, who runs the Home, has been having trouble with the local populace, and I was willing to offer my presence for her protection.” Every word of it was true, even if they wouldn’t take it the way he meant it.
“Oh, Morgan, that’s wonderfully kind of you!” Juliet said so effusively that he felt guilty. “To sleep at the Home when you could have a nice bed here—”
“Yes, very kind,” Sebastian put in, his eyebrows arching high. “And so noble, too.”
Juliet babbled on. “I suppose you mean Lady Clara Stanbourne, do you? I met her during my coming out, but she doesn’t go much into society, does she?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe I’ve met her,” Sebastian put in.
“Judging from the fact that she didn’t confuse me with you when we first met,” Morgan said dryly, “I’d say that you haven’t.”
“Of course you haven’t, dearest,” Juliet chimed in. “You
go into society as rarely as she. How on earth would the two of you meet?” She shot Morgan a sly glance. “Tell me, is Lady Clara still…unmarried?”
He knew that look. “Don’t get any ideas, Lady Matchmaker. I’m helping her, that’s all. So stop envisioning chapels and wedding gowns right this minute.”
“I was merely asking—”
“I know what you were asking,
ma petite
, but it’s not going to happen.”
Without warning, an image flashed into his mind, of Clara gliding up an aisle, sheathed in white and crowned with a halo of apple blossoms. On her wedding night, she’d be swathed in the filmiest of muslins to tease her husband with the curves he’d soon be free to fondle to his heart’s content—
As his pulse began to pound furiously, he shook off the thought. Damn Juliet and her notions. Time to change the subject. “Is there any food in this place? I’ve not eaten since breakfast, and I’m starved.”
Half an hour later, they sat in the kitchen, Sebastian and Juliet watching him as he devoured a plate of cold roast beef and pickles and washed it down with small beer.
“So what is it you do at the Home?” Sebastian asked.
Sacrebleu
. He couldn’t answer that without lying. Morgan concentrated on his food. “I teach the boys a few sailor’s skills—how to tie knots, read a compass…that sort of thing.” He taught
one
boy those things, after all.
“And Lady Clara doesn’t mind your sleeping on the premises?”
“She doesn’t stay there at night, you know. The housekeeper does.”
“Oh.” Juliet looked disappointed. “Do you have to go back tonight?”
“Actually, no. I’m going to Merrington’s ball.”
“Wonderful!” Juliet exclaimed. “So are we! Sebastian
didn’t want to attend—you know how he hates such affairs—but I’m dying to dance, so I’m making him take me.”
Morgan stifled a groan. They would all be there together then. Just what he needed—Juliet wondering why he was going off to speak in private with Ravenswood. Come to think of it, the arse had probably set up the meeting for tonight purposely after talking to Sebastian yesterday. No doubt Sebastian had mentioned the ball.
He glanced to his brother, whose gaze looked thoughtful.
“You know,” Sebastian said, “you could accompany Juliet, and then I wouldn’t have to. If you’re going there anyway—”
“Oh, no, Mr. I’d-Rather-Be-Home,” Juliet interrupted. “When I said I wanted to dance, I meant with
you
.” She cast Morgan an apologetic smile. “No offense, you understand.”
He grinned. “None taken.” It was times like these when he actually envied his brother. Not that he had any desire to live Sebastian’s sort of life. But once in a while he did wonder how it felt to have a woman care so much, to have her desire his welfare above all else, crave his company, warm more than just his bed.
Wondering was probably all he’d ever do. Women as fine as Juliet and Clara gave themselves to men who were willing to settle down. Morgan wasn’t.
“So why are you going to Merrington’s ball anyway?” Sebastian asked. “You do know it’s notorious for being a marriage mart.”
Juliet answered for him. “That’s why he’s going. To dance with eligible women.”
Morgan started to protest, then realized it might be better to let her think it. That way he wouldn’t have to come up with another explanation. “You read my mind, my dear sister-in-law,” he said smoothly.
Her eyes sparkled. “And if Lady Clara just happens to be there dressed in her finest and eager for a dance with an eligi
ble gentleman, well, he wouldn’t complain. Would you, Morgan?”
That was so far from the truth that Morgan burst into laughter. “You’re determined to see me married, aren’t you?”
“I’m determined to see you alive and here for a while, so our children will have an uncle. If it takes your finding a wife to accomplish that, then yes, I want to see you married.”
He sobered, remembering why he wasn’t in the market for any wife, but especially not Lady Clara. “Then I fear you’re destined for disappointment. The last person on earth who’d ever marry me is Lady Clara Stanbourne.”
The moment he said it, he realized his error. He hadn’t meant to say that Clara wouldn’t marry
him
, but that
he
wouldn’t marry
her
. And judging from the sympathy in Juliet’s eyes, she’d taken his slip of the tongue very seriously.
He started to correct himself, then gave up. Without even seeing him and Clara together Juliet had decided that he felt something for Clara other than rampant lust. Very well, let Juliet spin her dreams. It would make it easier for him to come and go to Spitalfields while she and Sebastian were in town.
Juliet reached out and took his hand. “Don’t you worry, Morgan. She’ll come round.”
He feigned a woeful smile. “I do hope you’re right.”
Then, to his chagrin, he realized he might actually mean it.
There is no inclination, the gratification of which so
much degrades its possessors, or places them in such
humiliating situations, as that of CURIOSITY.
The Danger of Listening at Doors;
or the Curious Girl Cured,
Anonymous
T
his might very well be a mistake, Clara decided as she and her aunt navigated the throngs at the Merrington mansion. The perfectly pitched orchestra made Clara’s feet itch to dance, and the smell of champagne, blended with scents of the spring roses and lilacs spread throughout the house, went right to Clara’s head. If little Mary were here, she’d think she’d stumbled onto Cinderella’s ball.
Oh, yes, almost certainly a mistake. Clara wasn’t here to dance. She was here to corner Lord Ravenswood and make him talk to her.