Dance of Seduction (12 page)

Their gazes locked, hers fraught with anger, his full of curiosity. Then a dark, secretive interest spread over his face, making her blood run hot and her mouth go dry. He ran his gaze over her, as if trying to guess what pleasures lay beneath her layers of cloak and gown and chemise, as if waiting for her to let him find out…

Bother it all, why did she even think these things? Why
must he do this to her? The man might very well be one of the Specter’s lackeys.
That
was what she should focus on—finding out the truth of his connections so she’d know what to do about them.

Her eyes narrowed. Perhaps she should just ask him. She couldn’t pick better surroundings for it—a crowded public tavern, where he’d have to behave himself. There would be no “ravishing” here, to be sure.

Drawing herself up, she changed direction and headed purposely toward him.

Morgan smiled and rose as she approached, tipping his head in an abbreviated bow. “Good evening, Clara. Come to have a drink with me, have you?”

Given the intimacy of their last encounter, it seemed silly to protest his familiar tone or his easy use of her Christian name. “I wish to speak to you a moment, if I may.”

With an extravagant wave of his hand, he indicated the settle across the table from his. She slid onto the seat, ignoring the curious looks of the other customers. When he took his seat again, his calf brushed hers under the table, and she caught her breath. Had he done it on purpose?

Then he rubbed one boot against hers, and she knew he had. Though a great deal of sturdy English leather separated their two feet, just that brief contact seemed so intimate that she jerked her foot back with a blush.

His low, husky laugh sent frissons along every nerve of her body. “I take it that you aren’t here to renew our more…private acquaintance.”

“No, indeed!” When he arched an eyebrow, she moderated her tone. “Actually, I’ve come to thank you.”

He eyed her with suspicion. “For what?”

“Holding to your promise. Not buying goods from my children.”

“It was no trouble. None of them attempted to sell any
thing to me anyway. They merely sniffed around. Apparently, you’ve trained your charges well.” His gaze pierced her. “But that’s not what you really want to talk to me about, is it?”

Good Lord, but the man could read minds. “No. I…um…wanted to ask you about a rumor I’d heard.”

“Yes?” His tone was cautious.

“People are saying you’ve agreed to work for the Specter. And since you told me that you worked for yourself alone—”

“I never said the situation couldn’t change.”

“So you
are
working for him!”

Scowling, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you care if I am or not?”

His evasion only alarmed her further. Yet he hadn’t said for certain that he’d aligned himself with the Spitalfields Specter. “If you are, you can’t keep your promise to me concerning my children. You’ll have to take whatever goods are offered you, no matter who proffers them. Including those of my charges if they fall into their old ways.”

He shrugged. “If one of your boys decides to return to the life, he won’t care whether the fences reside nearby or five blocks away.”

“You don’t understand. When the fences reside five blocks away, the boys aren’t forced to see old companions stroll past every day, crowing about their good fortune, flashing their illicit funds. Out of sight makes it so much easier for the children to put it out of mind until they’re strong enough to risk temptation. But with you so near…”

The muscles of his jaw drew tight. “Do your job properly, and you won’t have to worry about my influence over your charges, will you?”

His flagrant dismissal of her concerns sounded the death knell to all her hopes that the rumors might be false. Disap
pointment surged through her so powerfully that Clara had to stifle a cry of distress.

In that moment, she realized how foolish her image of him had become. His considerate behavior toward her pickpockets had led her to envision him as a gentleman down on his luck, a decent man who might need only encouragement to abandon his criminal pursuits.

Such wishful thinking had undoubtedly been born of her pesky attraction to the rogue. An attraction that now died a swift death.

“I take your meaning, sir,” she managed to choke out. “I…I had foolishly begun to think that you…” She rose abruptly, eager to escape before she revealed just how much she’d believed his empty promises. “Never mind what I thought. I was wrong.”

She turned from the table, but he stood to catch her arm before she could flee. “Now see here, Clara, don’t run off. Let’s finish our discussion like civilized people.”

“Civilized people do not manhandle women.” She glanced down to where his fingers gripped her, then lifted a cold gaze to him. “Kindly release me, sir.”

To her surprise, he did so, though with a vile oath. When she started to move away, he said, “I haven’t yet joined the Specter’s men.”

Stunned by his admission, she halted to stare at him.

He looked angry, defiant. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Only if it’s true.”

His expression was stony. “It’s true.”

She swallowed. “But you’re considering it?”

For a long moment he simply stood there, his eyes hot on her, though indecision clouded his features. Then he looked away. “Yes.”

“I see. Then I shall know how to act.”

His gaze shot back to her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She walked off without answering and threaded her way swiftly through the tables to keep him from seeing the tears welling in her eyes.

With a curse, he hurried after her, pushing his way through patrons until he’d caught up. “Confound it all, Clara, tell me what you intend to do.”

She didn’t answer because she couldn’t. She didn’t know what she’d do. But she couldn’t allow him to continue running his business so close to the Home. She rushed outside, relieved to find Samuel waiting for her on a bench.

The faithful footman jumped to his feet. “M’lady, what—”

Morgan burst through the door behind her. “I’m not finished talking to you!”

Brows lowering, Samuel stepped forward between them. “Good evening, Cap’n Pryce. I hope you’re not bothering my mistress.”

That brought Morgan up short. He glared at Clara, then Samuel. Even in the poor light of dusk, she could see the fury roiling beneath the surface of his rigid expression. “Your mistress began a discussion she didn’t finish. So if you’ll excuse us, Samuel—”

“As far as I’m concerned, it
is
finished,” Clara retorted.

“Begging your pardon, Cap’n,” Samuel interjected in an oddly obsequious tone, “but I didn’t know m’lady was planning to speak to you—”

“Don’t you dare beg his pardon, Samuel,” Clara snapped. “I have the right to speak to him whenever I please. And the right
not
to speak to him. And furthermore—”

“Very well, Samuel.” Morgan shot the footman a weary look. “Take her home. I’m sure you did your best to hold to your end of the bargain.”

At the word “bargain,” Samuel groaned, then quickly offered Clara his arm. “Come on, m’lady.”

Clara scowled at him. “What bargain is he talking about?” When Samuel hung his head, she turned her scowl on Morgan. “What do you mean, sir?”

The glance Morgan leveled on her was cool. “Our discussion is finished, remember? You don’t answer my questions; I don’t answer yours. Good night, mademoiselle.” Then he strolled back into the tavern with the self-satisfaction of a man who knew he’d had the last word.

As soon as the door shut behind him, she exploded. “Oh, that man can be the most annoying, most…most outrageous—” Ignoring Samuel’s proffered arm, she whirled to stalk off toward where the coach was parked near the Home. “He’s always so smug and sure of himself. And now he’s even got
you
involved in his secretive schemes.”

“No, m’lady.” Samuel hastened after her. “It’s not like that, I swear.”

She stopped short. “Then what is it like, pray tell?”

Samuel halted too, staring down at his feet guiltily. “He’s been teaching me to fight is all. So I’d know how to protect you.” When she gaped at him, he added, “I-I been meeting him for lessons in the mornings after I leave you.”

That was not what she’d expected. Morgan was helping Samuel to protect her? “I don’t believe it. Why?”

Samuel shrugged. “’Cause I asked him to. That one evening after we left the shop, I went back to give him a piece of my mind, and he held his own. Then he said he’d teach me how to look after you if I wanted.”

“Just like that?” She tried not to be warmed by the revelation, but how could she not be pleased that Morgan had gone to such lengths on her behalf?

Then something occurred to her. “But he said a ‘bargain.’ What were you to do in return?”

Samuel sighed, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “I’m to keep you from meddling in his affairs.”

“Oh, of course.” Her little bubble of satisfaction burst. She should have known Morgan did nothing without a purpose. In this case, the wretch figured that bribing her footman to keep her away would leave him free to conduct his illegal affairs without interference.

“Truly, m’lady, I don’t think he’s the devil you take him to be,” Samuel said. “He’s very concerned about your safety, and that means something, don’t it?”

“Yes.” It meant he’d found a way into Samuel’s loyalties.

She would feel betrayed by Samuel’s defection except that she knew how seriously the footman regarded his duty to protect her. And how adept Morgan was at manipulating well-meaning people.

Very well, at least now she knew she couldn’t rely on Samuel in her fight against Morgan. She’d have to manage any interference with Morgan’s enterprise alone. But one way or the other, she
would
interfere. Because she refused to stand by and watch that…that deceitful wretch tempt all of her charges into his camp. No, indeed.

The trouble was, what could she do? She would turn the wretch in to the police if she thought they’d act. But past experience had taught her that they required hard proof, which she didn’t have. And even if they would investigate Morgan on her say-so, not all of the officers could be trusted. If she linked up with a dishonest one, he would merely take whatever bribe Morgan offered on the sly, and that would be the end of it.

Clara sighed. That was the trouble with Spitalfields. Everything was done on the sly, under cover of darkness or in secret transactions in closed rooms. If the activities of some
of those scoundrels were ever dragged out into a public arena, they’d…

Yes, that was it! That’s precisely what was needed! And she knew just the person to help her shine a light upon the dark doings.

She smiled as a plan formed in her mind. Morgan might have gained Samuel’s loyalties and tempted Johnny into his old ways, but he hadn’t won the war yet. Tomorrow she would set about scuttling the captain’s battleship.

Chapter 7

I am inclined to believe that there have been but few
ages, if any, since the creation of the world, in which
vices did not reign as much as in the present.
“
Introduction
,” Juvenile Trials for Robbing Orchards,
Telling Fibs, and Other Heinous Offences
By Master Tommy Littleton,
Secretary to the Court,
R. Johnson

T
he tap-tapping of the hammer in Morgan’s dream crescendoed to thunder, jolting him awake. Grumbling threats, Morgan rolled over to sit on the edge of his bed, head throbbing wildly. The knocking came from the side door.

Who the hell was that? He glanced at the clock and couldn’t believe his eyes. Eleven o’clock, long past time for his lessons with Samuel. He was in no mood to deal with the footman this morning, especially after Samuel had failed to keep Clara at bay last night. He started to lie back and thrust
a pillow over his aching head, then thought better of it. Samuel might know what Clara had meant by all her threats to “act.”

That brought Morgan lurching to his feet. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own boots, and had just enough presence of mind to realize he was naked. He reached for his rumpled drawers just as the knocking began again, setting off a series of explosions in his head.

“I’m coming, devil take you!” he cried as he dragged his drawers and trousers on. Pulling on a shirt, he headed for the side door, then swung it open so violently that it slammed against the wall, punctuating his headache with an additional stab of pain.

But it wasn’t Samuel standing there.

“Quick, let me in!” Johnny Perkins begged, his gaze flitting along the alley as if he expected to be caught any second.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Morgan asked, scrubbing a hand over his whiskered face.

Johnny blinked at his harsh tone. “I’ve come for my money. For the watch.”

Morgan glanced down the alley. “What about Lady Clara?”

“She ain’t at the Home today. She sent word that she’s going for a drive with her aunt in the park.”

That would explain why Samuel hadn’t come this morning. Morgan hesitated, debating. If Clara ever found out about this, she’d have both their heads.

On the other hand, perhaps he should give the boy his money and be done with it. As long as her ladyship never heard of it and Johnny stayed away, she’d no longer have a reason to fret that he was corrupting her children. “All right,” he growled and let the boy pass inside.

Then Johnny slammed the door behind him.

“
Sacrebleu
, keep the noise down, for God’s sake,” he grumbled.

Johnny looked him over with narrowing eyes. “What happened to you? You look like you been hit by lightning.”

“Blue lightning. Had enough last night to set a house afire. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

And who’d have thought a little gin could do so much damage? He didn’t even like gin. He’d planned to spend his money buying drinks for
other
people, to loosen their tongues about the Specter.

But his plan had gone awry after his encounter with Lady Clara. Her looks of horror and her promises to “act,” whatever that meant, had plagued him until he’d started downing one dram after another. Soon the rounds of drinks he’d bought for possible informants had become rounds of drinks for companions in crime, and he’d abandoned all control. He was paying for it this morning, damn her eyes.