The Forbidden Lady by Kerrelyn Sparks

table. He missed his ship and the crew that never questioned his orders. “Make me some coffee, please, Mrs. Millstead.”
    She continued to complain as she prepared his coffee. “Don’t see why that little orphan should get an education and not me own boy, Samuel.”
    Quin examined Samuel, who held a plump, greasy sausage in his equally plump, greasy hand, calmly chewing on one end while his dull eyes focused on the wall in front of him. “How old are you, Samuel?”
    The boy chewed slowly while he frowned over the difficulty of the question. “I dunno, about fifteen.”
    “Why don’t you apprentice yourself to learn a trade? ’Tis not too late.”
    Samuel shrugged. “I tried working at a chandler’s shop. He made me work too hard.”
    Quin closed his eyes and massaged his aching head. The boy thought cutting candlewicks was hard work? “Has my brother wakened yet?”
    “No, his lordship gave me instructions last night,” the cook said. “Gave me a complete menu of what he expected for breakfast. Said he always slept ’til noon and don’t want nobody bothering him before then.”
    “He’s not a lord, Mrs. Millstead. Not unless my father has died.”
    “Well, he was very precise about that, he was. Insists that we all call him ‘his lordship.’ ” Mrs. Millstead’s eyes shone with a malicious gleam. “Said he was the heir and not you.”
    “I see.” Quin rose wearily to his feet. So, his younger brother was wasting no time informing everyone that he was a bastard. “I’ll have my coffee and breakfast in the study, Mrs. Millstead, and you can remember that ’tis I, and not his lordship, who is paying your wages.”
    Quin wandered into his study. He sat at his drop-leaf desk, dipped a quill into a crystal inkwell and began a letter.
    Dear Edward,
    Clarence arrived last night and is staying with me. Notify our solicitor. There must be a legal way to outmaneuver him.
    Meanwhile, I’ll keep him occupied with a hectic social life. If he goes to parties all night and sleeps most the day, he’ll not have time to cause trouble.
    Regards, Q
    Quin folded the letter and secured it with sealing wax. When Samuel stumbled in with his breakfast tray, he jumped to his feet to relieve the boy of the burden, fearing the clumsy Samuel would spill his coffee.
    Quin set his tray on the walnut table as the man in brown entered the room. “Good morning, Johnson. Would you care for some breakfast?”
    “No, thank you.”
    Quin noticed Samuel hovering at the doorway. “Samuel, the shoes I wore last night need to be cleaned and polished.”
    “Yes, sir.” The boy shut the door after him.
    Quin poured himself a cup of coffee and sat, waiting for Johnson to join him.
    His employer remained at the door, cracked it open for a peek, then closed it. As he approached Quin, he withdrew a small cloth pouch from an inner pocket of his coat.
    “The latest from Revere.” Johnson removed a pair of silver shoe buckles from the pouch and laid them on the table next to the breakfast tray. “They each hold a small amount of gunpowder. I suggest you wear them always.”
    Quin took a sip of coffee. “Very well.”
    Johnson placed a silver ring on the table and returned the empty pouch to his pocket.
    Quin cocked an eyebrow. “I’m touched. Does this mean we’re betrothed?”
    With a faint twitch at his mouth, Johnson pulled back a chair to take a seat. “This is no laughing matter, Stanton. I hear your British brother has arrived and is staying here. While it may confirm everyone’s belief that you’re loyal to the crown, it makes your situation more dangerous. Watch your back. Trust no one, not even this enterprising female you’re determined to protect.”
    “I know how dangerous it is, Johnson.”
    “Good. The ring is a precaution in case you’re captured. The British fear that a jury of Colonials would not convict, so they would send you to England to stand trial. Not only would the British condemn you in a minute,