Page 30 of Submitting to the Widow

Jane awoke slowly the next morning, every muscle in her body complaining. What a terrible idea all those aphrodisiacs had been, but wonderful at the same time. She’d have plenty of time to rest when she was dead, she reasoned.

Finally, the insistent knocking at her chamber door registered in her lethargic consciousness. Next to her, Stephen lay curled onto his side, his arm beneath his head like a small boy. A warning twinge in her womb reminded her of the danger of their frantic couplings of the night before. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to worry.

She jumped from her bed and threw on a dressing gown. When she flung open the door there was the forbidding face of her old friend. “Eleanor,” she said, forcing her still sleepy brain to figure out what was happening. “Why are you here?”

“I see Stephen Forsythe has invaded your bed in record time.”

Jane blushed furiously and tried to explain. “I don’t know how…”

El gave her a conspiratorial smile and covered her hand still placed on the doorknob. “I know exactly how this happened. Good for you, Jane. You deserve a decent man, but we have more important things to discuss. See if you can rouse that poor, exhausted barrister and drag him downstairs for a pot of strong coffee.”

Jane held her head, the effects of the banquet of the night before still playing tricks on her brain. She looked up again. “But what is going on?”

“We all have much to discuss and not much time. Get yourself and your man downstairs right now.” With that, her old friend clattered down the staircase in a cloud of horse, leather, and lavender scents.

Jane sat down on the bed next to Stephen, but when he reached to pull her back under the counterpane with him, she handed him his shirt. “Hurry up and dress. The woman who apparently owns you has arrived.”

* * *

Stephen lethis gaze roam around Jane’s sitting room which she rarely used. However, the number of players in the current dangerous game they played would not have fit in her conservatory bower. He nearly groaned at the memory of the night before and visions of the conservatory that swirled around his aching head. He’d literally staggered down the stairs from Jane’s bed chamber with most bones in his body screaming in protest.

Murray had joined the party along with Raj, James, and Molly who were already there. And then there was Captain El and her band of merry men. He didn’t know where she found her crews, but these fellows looked like the rough Royal Navy press gangs that had prowled English waterfronts during the last war.

Molly and James seemed excited and chattered with the guests while they served steaming cups of hot, black coffee. This was definitely not a tea drinking crowd. Murray produced a flask of something and passed it around to add to the coffee. When Stephen took a whiff, the smell alone served to clear his head. He jerked his face away from the flask and demanded of his valet, “What in the name of God is this stuff?”

“The tavern owner next to the inn…um…he makes this in a secret still out back.” Murray gave him a mischievous grin. “You’re not getting picky in your old age about your drinking habits, are you, sir?”

Stephen flashed him a murderous look and downed the coffee in one long gulp. Jane sat close to him on the settee he’d sprawled onto. They didn’t exchange looks, but when she leaned into his chest, he didn’t push her away. He couldn’t help playing with the elaborate strings that held together her bodice behind her back. She’d been in such a hurry to get downstairs, that she hadn’t had time to call for a maid’s help. And besides, no one was paying attention, because all eyes were riveted on Captain Eleanor who’d cleared her throat and signaled for quiet.

When she began to speak, Stephen’s gut froze solid. “Please listen to what I have to say, because we don’t have much time before I have to lead my men to the quarry.”

He interrupted. “The quarry?”

The captain jabbed an impatient finger in his direction. “I said ‘listen,’ not ‘devil me with questions.’”

He snapped his mouth shut and leaned back against the settee, thoroughly chastised.

15

FRIDAY, APRIL 28, 1826

TREVELLYN HOUSE

Combe Down, England

“There is a secret card game at the fringes of Bath that has existed for years. The players change a bit from generation to generation, but the core stays pretty much in the same families. The stakes have always been high and the masters that run the game are ruthless.”

She paused for a long moment and stared out at the long Trevellyn lawn stretching away into the distance. Just when he thought she’d stopped speaking, she began again.

“Once, long ago, my father owned a tavern here in Combe Down, and he was caught in their web of gambling and deceit. He lost everything down to the tavern itself on numerous occasions.” She paused again before continuing. “And each time he would put up his thirteen-year-old daughter as collateral in lieu of losing everything - a night with his innocent child in exchange for keeping his business, while still being allowed to continue to gamble with this pool of sharps.

“There were four of them. Then one night a kind man, whose son was my friend, managed to win everything from my father and the four sharps. When he was offered a night with me, he agreed, but instead arranged for my passage to the colonies instead of bedding me. He’d arranged for friends in Boston to provide me a home and an education. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your point of view, the ship was seized by a privateer off the coast of Massachusetts, and my life veered in another direction.”

Molly wiped a tear from her eye and snuffled loudly.

“Oh, the pirates treated me kindly once they saw I had skills. I could steer a course and climb the rigging as well as any boy. And oddly enough, they turned out to be much more gentlemanly than the peers and captains of business here.

“A woman aboard a privateer is probably safer than one walking alone along Piccadilly. You see, if women prisoners were fair game, there would be uncontrollable fighting amongst the crew, so women captives can be with a crew member only if they choose to do so.”