they would execute you as a traitor, and that is a great deal nastier than a simple hanging.”
“I know.” Quin’s appetite withered away at the thought of near-fatal strangulation, followed by disembowelment and decapitation. He picked up the ring to examine it. “What’s inside? Poison?”
“Yes. ’Tis not painless, but it is quick. I would recommend it if the time comes. You can at least cheat them out of deciding your fate.”
Quin turned the ring around in his hands while a vision of a female with bottle-green eyes sailed through his mind. There was too much unknown sea to explore with a mermaid hidden in the elusive depths. He would not give it up. He slipped the ring on a finger of his left hand. “I’ll wear the deuced thing, but I’ll not be caught.”
“Good. I’ll be on my way then.” Johnson rose to his feet. “You have another practice session with the Turtle tomorrow. ’Tis almost time to move her to the harbor.”
“Fine.” Quin groaned inwardly. After six practice sessions, he still hated the sensation of being closed up in the dark little submersible.
“In case your brother asks, how will you explain your absence from the house tomorrow?”
“I could be visiting friends in Cambridge.”
“A mistress would sound better,” Johnson observed. “He’d be more inclined to respect your privacy then.”
“Very well.” Quin fetched the letter he had written from the desk. “Can you see that this reaches my uncle?”
“Of course. And remember, Stanton, put a stop to a certain young lady’s attempts at espionage.”
Friday, October 20, 1769
A n excellent night for spying, Virginia thought, eager to try her hand once more. It had been two weeks since her last, successful attempt. She surveyed the gaily lit parlors of the Oldhams’ luxurious home. The doors between the two large parlors had been opened wide and the gilded baroque furnishings pushed up against the flocked wallpaper to allow room for dancing.
At the entrance to the parlor, she stood with her aunt and sister. They curtsied and exchanged pleasantries with the host and hostess. She had made one adjustment to her green silk gown, adding a sheer scarf around her neck, tucked into the bodice to conceal the low décolletage. When Caroline had questioned her sudden attack of modesty, she had mumbled an excuse about the old major at the Higgenbottoms’ ball drooling on her.
The truth was the major and his drool were far from her thoughts. Ever since that night at the Ashfords, she had not been able to dress or undress without recalling the touch of Quincy Stanton’s bare thumb gliding down the curve of her breast.
Her pulse speeded ahead of her thoughts, quickening at the mere possibility of seeing him again. She squelched the anticipation. She would remain calm.
And she would discover exactly what he was doing.
He was easy to spot. With the help of his high heels, he stood considerably taller than the other men. His green silk coat and breeches nearly matched the color of her own gown. She watched his back as he sauntered across the adjoining parlor, accompanied by a shorter, stockier dandy in plum velvet.
“Good evening, Miss Munro.” Captain Breakwell made a leg to her. “ ’Tis my greatest pleasure to see you.” He offered his arm to escort her across the room.
“Good evening, Captain.” What was she to do with this redcoat? He seriously interfered with her plans. It was too early to send him for refreshments. And the last time she had done that at the concert, he had questioned her disappearance. “Could I ask a small favor of you?”
“Of course, and I would be honored if you would call me William.”
“As you wish. You see, my sister loves to dance, and I was wondering if you could partner her for the first set?”
Though he looked taken aback, the captain rallied with a small smile. “But do you not wish to dance also, Miss Munro?”
“Perhaps later. I fear I’m quite fatigued today. I helped
“I know.” Quin’s appetite withered away at the thought of near-fatal strangulation, followed by disembowelment and decapitation. He picked up the ring to examine it. “What’s inside? Poison?”
“Yes. ’Tis not painless, but it is quick. I would recommend it if the time comes. You can at least cheat them out of deciding your fate.”
Quin turned the ring around in his hands while a vision of a female with bottle-green eyes sailed through his mind. There was too much unknown sea to explore with a mermaid hidden in the elusive depths. He would not give it up. He slipped the ring on a finger of his left hand. “I’ll wear the deuced thing, but I’ll not be caught.”
“Good. I’ll be on my way then.” Johnson rose to his feet. “You have another practice session with the Turtle tomorrow. ’Tis almost time to move her to the harbor.”
“Fine.” Quin groaned inwardly. After six practice sessions, he still hated the sensation of being closed up in the dark little submersible.
“In case your brother asks, how will you explain your absence from the house tomorrow?”
“I could be visiting friends in Cambridge.”
“A mistress would sound better,” Johnson observed. “He’d be more inclined to respect your privacy then.”
“Very well.” Quin fetched the letter he had written from the desk. “Can you see that this reaches my uncle?”
“Of course. And remember, Stanton, put a stop to a certain young lady’s attempts at espionage.”
Friday, October 20, 1769
A n excellent night for spying, Virginia thought, eager to try her hand once more. It had been two weeks since her last, successful attempt. She surveyed the gaily lit parlors of the Oldhams’ luxurious home. The doors between the two large parlors had been opened wide and the gilded baroque furnishings pushed up against the flocked wallpaper to allow room for dancing.
At the entrance to the parlor, she stood with her aunt and sister. They curtsied and exchanged pleasantries with the host and hostess. She had made one adjustment to her green silk gown, adding a sheer scarf around her neck, tucked into the bodice to conceal the low décolletage. When Caroline had questioned her sudden attack of modesty, she had mumbled an excuse about the old major at the Higgenbottoms’ ball drooling on her.
The truth was the major and his drool were far from her thoughts. Ever since that night at the Ashfords, she had not been able to dress or undress without recalling the touch of Quincy Stanton’s bare thumb gliding down the curve of her breast.
Her pulse speeded ahead of her thoughts, quickening at the mere possibility of seeing him again. She squelched the anticipation. She would remain calm.
And she would discover exactly what he was doing.
He was easy to spot. With the help of his high heels, he stood considerably taller than the other men. His green silk coat and breeches nearly matched the color of her own gown. She watched his back as he sauntered across the adjoining parlor, accompanied by a shorter, stockier dandy in plum velvet.
“Good evening, Miss Munro.” Captain Breakwell made a leg to her. “ ’Tis my greatest pleasure to see you.” He offered his arm to escort her across the room.
“Good evening, Captain.” What was she to do with this redcoat? He seriously interfered with her plans. It was too early to send him for refreshments. And the last time she had done that at the concert, he had questioned her disappearance. “Could I ask a small favor of you?”
“Of course, and I would be honored if you would call me William.”
“As you wish. You see, my sister loves to dance, and I was wondering if you could partner her for the first set?”
Though he looked taken aback, the captain rallied with a small smile. “But do you not wish to dance also, Miss Munro?”
“Perhaps later. I fear I’m quite fatigued today. I helped
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