chilled, angry silence toward him for the next year might be tempting, but it wasn't very practical. She was still very annoyed about the storeroom.
"So, fiancé, what happens when you want me to get pregnant?" she asked bitterly. "You have some nice, romantic crypt picked out? I can hardly wait to hear your honeymoon plans."
"I'm not interested in children," he replied as he hurried her along the quiet streets. After a significant pause he chuckled and added, "We'll be honeymooning in France."
It took several minutes for the remark to register. "But England was at war with France in 1811."
The fool girl pestered him with questions the rest of the way back to the Blue Rose. He didn't answer any of them. He'd already said too much. He had to remember the gypsy girl was a pawn, not an ally. As they came to the door of the inn he pulled her close and whispered in her ear. "Follow my lead. Do what you're told. Remember what happens if you don't."
Sara heard the chilling menace in his whispered words and any confidence she might have gathered during the long walk back from Mayfair vanished. Lewis Morgan meant business and she had no choice.
She was going to get him for this, she promised herself. She said, "I understand." He kissed her cheek.
She forced herself not to jerk away from the soft warmth of his lips.
"Come along, love." He opened the door and led her into the inn's common room.
Aunt Molly didn't look worried when she glanced up from talking to a customer. She looked annoyed.
"Well," she said sternly as she marched up to them, wiping her hands on an apron. "Well, indeed! I suspected as much. For shame." She pointed toward the back of the house. "Into the kitchen with you two. Scandal. In my house," she added, herding them into the kitchen. "I'll not have it. It's the parson's mousetrap for you two, make no mistake."
"We're sorry to have worried you," Toma said as soon as Molly had sent the servants away. "You know I intend to do the honorable thing by the girl. Don't I, Sara?"
Sara slipped away from his grasp. "Where's Beth?" she asked the outraged woman. "Is she all right?
We were looking for her," she added when Molly stared at her questioningly.
"You went out alone? With a young man?" Molly shook a finger under Sara's nose. "Hardly proper, for an English girl or a Rom."
"She's sorry."
Sara ignored Lewis Morgan's sincere-sounding apology. "Beth?"
"Upstairs with one of the maids, learning to make beds." Molly sighed. "The child requires a great deal of supervision, I'm afraid. Thieving ways," she explained in a confidential tone.
"We know," Lewis said. "Sara thought she'd run away last night," he explained. "I helped her look for her."
Molly turned to him. "Why aren't you in Salisbury?"
"Sara found me at the campgrounds before I left. I couldn't leave her alone."
The sincerity in the man's expression and tone made Sara want to gag. "Right," she said sarcastically.
"He's just full of the milk of human kindness. Or at least he's just full of it," she added to herself.
Molly beamed. "You're a good lad, Toma. He'll make you a fine husband, my dear," she said to Sara.
"That's what he tells me."
Molly looked between her and Lewis, her dark complexion reddening with embarrassment. "I'm sure nothing—untoward—happened last night, but I must insist that—"
"No need to insist," Toma assured her. "We'll be married as soon as the circus returns."
"Oh, but that's days," Molly said. "I'm sure I can persuade Reverend Wilkins to procure a special license—"
"No!"
Lewis's shout was so unexpected that both women jumped, then stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
"No gajo wedding," he said firmly. "We'll be accepted by the Borava tribe or it will be no marriage."
"But—"
"Am I right, Sara?" he asked Sara, cutting off Molly's protest.
The harsh expression in his eyes reminded Sara of the dark shadows of the convict hulks. "Right," she said reluctantly. "Toma wants the marriage acknowledged by the
"So, fiancé, what happens when you want me to get pregnant?" she asked bitterly. "You have some nice, romantic crypt picked out? I can hardly wait to hear your honeymoon plans."
"I'm not interested in children," he replied as he hurried her along the quiet streets. After a significant pause he chuckled and added, "We'll be honeymooning in France."
It took several minutes for the remark to register. "But England was at war with France in 1811."
The fool girl pestered him with questions the rest of the way back to the Blue Rose. He didn't answer any of them. He'd already said too much. He had to remember the gypsy girl was a pawn, not an ally. As they came to the door of the inn he pulled her close and whispered in her ear. "Follow my lead. Do what you're told. Remember what happens if you don't."
Sara heard the chilling menace in his whispered words and any confidence she might have gathered during the long walk back from Mayfair vanished. Lewis Morgan meant business and she had no choice.
She was going to get him for this, she promised herself. She said, "I understand." He kissed her cheek.
She forced herself not to jerk away from the soft warmth of his lips.
"Come along, love." He opened the door and led her into the inn's common room.
Aunt Molly didn't look worried when she glanced up from talking to a customer. She looked annoyed.
"Well," she said sternly as she marched up to them, wiping her hands on an apron. "Well, indeed! I suspected as much. For shame." She pointed toward the back of the house. "Into the kitchen with you two. Scandal. In my house," she added, herding them into the kitchen. "I'll not have it. It's the parson's mousetrap for you two, make no mistake."
"We're sorry to have worried you," Toma said as soon as Molly had sent the servants away. "You know I intend to do the honorable thing by the girl. Don't I, Sara?"
Sara slipped away from his grasp. "Where's Beth?" she asked the outraged woman. "Is she all right?
We were looking for her," she added when Molly stared at her questioningly.
"You went out alone? With a young man?" Molly shook a finger under Sara's nose. "Hardly proper, for an English girl or a Rom."
"She's sorry."
Sara ignored Lewis Morgan's sincere-sounding apology. "Beth?"
"Upstairs with one of the maids, learning to make beds." Molly sighed. "The child requires a great deal of supervision, I'm afraid. Thieving ways," she explained in a confidential tone.
"We know," Lewis said. "Sara thought she'd run away last night," he explained. "I helped her look for her."
Molly turned to him. "Why aren't you in Salisbury?"
"Sara found me at the campgrounds before I left. I couldn't leave her alone."
The sincerity in the man's expression and tone made Sara want to gag. "Right," she said sarcastically.
"He's just full of the milk of human kindness. Or at least he's just full of it," she added to herself.
Molly beamed. "You're a good lad, Toma. He'll make you a fine husband, my dear," she said to Sara.
"That's what he tells me."
Molly looked between her and Lewis, her dark complexion reddening with embarrassment. "I'm sure nothing—untoward—happened last night, but I must insist that—"
"No need to insist," Toma assured her. "We'll be married as soon as the circus returns."
"Oh, but that's days," Molly said. "I'm sure I can persuade Reverend Wilkins to procure a special license—"
"No!"
Lewis's shout was so unexpected that both women jumped, then stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
"No gajo wedding," he said firmly. "We'll be accepted by the Borava tribe or it will be no marriage."
"But—"
"Am I right, Sara?" he asked Sara, cutting off Molly's protest.
The harsh expression in his eyes reminded Sara of the dark shadows of the convict hulks. "Right," she said reluctantly. "Toma wants the marriage acknowledged by the
Similar Books
The Creation of Inequality: How Our Prehistoric Ancestors Set the Stage for Monarchy, Slavery, and Empire
Kent Flannery, Joyce Marcus
