Page 12 of Submitting to the Widow

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Jane liftedher chin and vowed silently to hold her ground, no matter how much the barrister protested. She’d made her latest demand in exchange for the return of more of his journal pages after the poor man had prostrated himself before her and Raj to apologize for his lack-witted valet’s attempt to break into the conservatory the night before.

“What you require now is beyond the pale of civilized behavior.” Stephen Forsythe’s expression was closed, his eyes hooded.

“How did you define that same behavior when you were a student?”

“You’re right, of course,” he began carefully. “I did engage in some, er, rather reprehensible behavior as a young man. But I’m not that callow youth now. I cannot be discovered in the midst of what you’re proposing.”

She held up a page from his journal. “You weren’t discovered then. Why should we be discovered now?”

“Aren’t you at all concerned for your own reputation? Wouldn’t you like to make a good marriage at some point? Your life is far from over. You could go on to have a family…”

It was her turn to guard her reaction. “No one would want me, except for my money. And besides, I’m unable to conceive. I’m a barren failure of a woman. A family is out of the question.”

His eyes widened. “Perhaps you could at least find love again. Being found with me…in unforgivable circumstances…that would be the end of any normal life you could have here at the edge of Bath.”

“But I’m Indian,” she said simply, as if that settled the argument.

“You’re also an incredibly beautiful woman. There are plenty of men - from the great to the unknown - who would give anything to have you in their bed.”

She gave him a sad smile. “What if all I want is to spend the rest of my life here, amongst my books, my manuscripts, and my conservatory, doing what I love best?”

He threw up his hands. “You’ve convinced me. I stand here wholly at your service. Just when and how do you propose we plan your next debauchery?”

“Next Monday night. There’s a fancy-dress ball at the upper assembly rooms. I’ll rent a costume for you, and we’ll use my carriage.”

“And I’m to go as…?”

“A highwayman, of course.”

“Of course. And you?”

“A pirate queen.”

“You don’t think that might be a bit much for the denizens of Bath?”

She gave him a smile full of promise and intrigue. “I suppose we’ll have to find out.”

“Where shall we stay for the night? Do you want me to find lodgings?”

“No. We’ll stay in one of my townhouses. The one on the Royal Crescent isn’t rented presently.”

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Stephen’s mind reeled.He’d known this woman was well off, but with property in Bath, she was wealthy indeed. She could afford to do whatever she pleased, consequences be damned. Unfortunately, he was not so lucky. He had to maintain his reputation, and credibility, to continue to argue cases before the bar.

Intellectually, she scared the hell out of him. But on a carnal level, he and his cock were with her all the way with whatever she wanted to do. He was lost.

He made his way back alone to his rooms at the inn, having decided to leave Murray to recuperate from his “tussle” with two women. Just thinking about his usually self-contained, capable valet sitting in the midst of all that silk made him laugh out loud and put him in a good mood until he regained his rooms at the inn.

As soon as he opened the door to his chamber, he knew something was amiss. Drawers in the room’s cabinets were flung open with his shirts thrown onto the floor. Every bit of paper and documents he’d brought along to study whilst away from his courtroom duties were strewn everywhere. That was the worst of the news. On the positive side of the ledger, the inquiries he and Murray had been making about the men on Captain El’s list apparently had paid off. Someone was not happy about their probing. The tossed state of his room was a stark warning that someone on Captain El’s list had something to hide and wanted him to know their displeasure.

Stephen sat at the room’s small, battered writing table and dashed off a quick message to his old friend from his Lincoln’s Inn days, Henry Pullman. He was now a Justice of the Peace in Bath. They had some catching up to do…and just maybe some rat catching as well. He melted a bit of wax to seal the missive and put his ring’s seal on the document before going downstairs to have one of the stable boys take his letter to Henry. Stephen then went in search of the innkeeper to see if the man could shed any light on a suspicious person lurking at the inn earlier that day who might have wrecked his room.

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Tuesday,April 18, 1826