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Chapter 1 London 1801 E ight-year-old Josephine Hale let out a whoosh of air, then stuck her head and shoulders back out the window she’d just climbed through. As usual, looking down made her feel dizzy. She had the sensation that she was falling: tumbling head over toe, rushing at the hard earth below. She closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the window casement. Don’t be a ninny, she chided herself, remembering what her grandfather always told her. Be brave. When she opened her eyes again, the night air bit her skinny arms and slapped at her thin face. She ignored the swipes and held out a hand to her cousin Madeleine Fullbright. Madeleine’s blue eyes were wide and fearful, and her waist-length chestnut brown hair whipped in the breeze. “Come on, Maddie. Grab my hand.” Madeleine looked at Josie, then at the ground three stories below. “If I let go, I’ll fall.” Josie checked Madeleine’s position. She had a firm foothold on one of the town house’s outcroppings, and her hands were w
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 S tephen put his head in his hands. The worry and the fear and the feeling of impotence twisted around themselves and clenched his gut. The feelings were so knotted up, he had no hope of untangling them. His feelings were not unlike the ledgers, bank statements, and assorted investment documents spread on the desk before him. Reaching across the desk, Stephen lifted the decanter and poured a full glass of brandy. It was going to be a long night, and before he even began adding profits and subtracting debts, he knew the final sum. His family was deeply in debt. And he’d helped put them there. Stephen sipped the brandy, closed his eyes, and fingered the papers detailing his recent investments. Very profitable investments. Five years working with the East India Company had taught him something of business. Stephen was going to repay all he’d lost and more. Maharajah stood and growled, the hackles on his neck rising into a spiky collar. Stephen opened his eyes to see what had rou
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Chapter 3 J osephine frowned at her choice of words. Mistress was not the term she wanted. Perhaps she should have used lover? To be one’s mistress implied control and protection. Josie didn’t need Westman’s protection, and she certainly wouldn’t allow a man to control her. But becoming Westman’s lover was a good way to get close to him and discover where he’d hidden his half of the treasure map. Not to mention, Ashley was right. He was delicious to look at and beyond the pale as a potential husband. “Oh, good God.” On the other side of the desk, Westman fumbled for the decanter of brandy and poured himself another glass. He poured carelessly and sloshed a good bit over the rim, staining the documents on the desk. Josie hoped the map was not sitting there. She watched him down the liquid and scrub a hand over his face. He had a nice face. It was oval with a square, straight nose and generous lips. The lines at his mouth were fine and added character, as did the faint brown stubble on h
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 “T here he is,” Ashley’s voice hissed in her ear. “I cannot believe he had the audacity to attend.” “I cannot believe the ladies-patronesses granted him a ticket,” Maddie replied. “Don’t be a goose. They granted him a subscription. He’s eligible and an earl.” Josie didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know her cousins were speaking of the Earl of Westman. She’d heard the tinkle of female voices echoing through Almack’s din, and there were only a few men in En gland who could achieve that effect simply by entering Willis’s Rooms. “He’s not that eligible,” Josie said, feeling peevish. Why did everyone care so much about the Earl of Westman? He couldn’t even kiss. Some rake he must have been. “You know that his family is practically destitute,” she said, letting her ill humor show. “All the more reason to grant him a subscription,” Ashley retorted, rising on tiptoes to see over Josie’s shoulder, presumably to follow the earl’s movements. Josie had to dig her nails into her p
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 J osie screamed in surprise as the man crossed the room, his hand coming over her mouth to cut off her cry. She tried to fight against the arm that came around her shoulders, but he pulled her snug against him. “Good evening, Miss Hale.” Recognition dawning, Josie let out a whoosh of air and sagged against him. “Westman,” she mumbled, though her words were unintelligible. “Don’t scream,” he whispered and relaxed the hand cupping her mouth. “Promise?” She nodded and made no sound as he slowly drew his hand away. The callus on one finger trailed along her cheek, tickling and tantalizing the skin. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she allowed herself to be turned until she faced him, until she was once again looking up into his handsome face. “I should have known you’d be here,” she said. He shrugged. “You said we couldn’t talk at Almack’s. You didn’t say we couldn’t talk here.” “I see the malaria has already begun to rot your brain.” He frowned. No sense of humor, she deci
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 S even Dials was at the northern end of St. Martin’s Lane and was so named for its column, from which seven sundials radiated, each facing one of seven streets that branched from the center. For an area named after sundials, there was very little sunny about it. Seven Dials was a place of trash-filled gutters below and fetid air above. On every corner one could see skinny dogs watching skinny children with hungry eyes. Men loitered about aimlessly, without work, without hope, their eyes shifty and prowling. Women and children fared no better, and possibly worse. The lucky ones had a hovel somewhere to crawl back to after a day of hard labor. The unlucky slept on the streets. It was no place for a gentleman of the ton, but that didn’t stop many of them from slumming in search of cheap gin and cheaper women. Stephen had spent considerable time here when he’d been a youth. He knew its twists and turns, where to find the cleanest whores and the dirtiest fights, where to pawn a ri
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Chapter 7 J osie started back the way they’d come, but Westman put a hand on her shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?” “To open the box, of course,” she said and reached out, taking it from him. “Thank you.” “This isn’t the place—” Josie fanned a hand at him. “We’ll go to the orphanage. No one will see us there.” She smiled. “And, as an added bonus, Maddie told me some of the city’s best child pickpockets live there—reformed, of course—but I imagine they will make quick work of this lock.” “Pickpockets. Splendid,” he grumbled. Less than five minutes later, she opened the foundling house’s door. Maddie peered into the entryway from one of the main rooms. “You’re back. Can you help me set the table?” “Oh, not now, Maddie! We found something—a box. Is there anywhere we can go to take a closer look?” Ashley’s head appeared above Maddie’s. “We? Oh, you’ve returned with Lord Westman.” Josie wondered when her cousin had started restating the obvious. Westman didn’t seem to mind. He dof
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 I t wasn’t fair, Josie thought two hours later when she’d gone through every paper James Doubleday had left behind. Westman had told the truth when he’d said that the only thing of interest in the stack of papers was the ware house address. But it wasn’t fair that they should come so far now, find the key, and then go away empty-handed. Especially after she had nearly killed herself climbing out of her bedroom window. Much as she’d tried over the years, she’d never gotten past her weakness: fear of heights. She was such a ninny, which was all the more reason to keep pushing herself to overcome her cowardice. Truth be told, she would have chosen just about any other way out of her house to night. But she’d faced her fear, hiding the terror and hysteria she’d felt from Westman, only to end up with nothing to show for it. Why, they hadn’t even found the other half of the treasure map yet! Josie knew it must be here somewhere. She’d gone through her own house too many times to co
Chapter 8
Chapter 9 S tephen lifted his head, feeling as though he’d just downed a bottle of gin. He was drunk. Drunk on the woman in his arms. Her smell, her taste, the very sound of her voice had intoxicated him. That was the only explanation for the incredibly poor judgment he’d just exercised. Unless one considered that Stephen Doubleday was the earl of poor judgment. Stephen felt like slamming his head against the floor. Why did he keep doing things like this? Why did he keep mucking everything up? He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get involved with Josephine Hale. He’d promised himself he’d not seduce another innocent. And what had he done now? Gone and debauched the most unsuitable woman in the entire country of En gland. At least unsuitable for him. He should be searching for a bride, a mother to bear him sons to continue the Westman title, not dallying with his family’s enemy. And she, well, she should be searching for a husband of her own. Except— He glanced at her. Her eyes were close
Chapter 9
Chapter 10 S tephen allowed one hand to glide down her slim, pale neck, while the other lowered her slowly to the library couch. She sighed with pleasure and made quick work of his waistcoat and cravat. For his part, Stephen was just as eager. He couldn’t wait to get the raven-haired beauty naked. She was short, round, and luscious, her breasts so ample they spilled out of her dress and overflowed in his hands. She had a quick smile, dewy brown eyes, and an eagerness that proved she’d done this before. Many times. Stephen clenched his jaw and tried to remember that was one of the reasons he’d chosen her. She was experienced enough to know that a night of lovemaking did not a lover make. And she was pretty enough to tempt him. He’d decided, after very little thought, that he had been celibate far too long. If he were going to keep his head with his partner in business, he had better find an outlet for his other needs. And that was the other reason he’d chosen the voluptuous Alice Keatin
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Chapter 11 19 May 1759 I hate leaving Margaret. Truly, ’tis the only thing I dislike about life at sea. I love the wind and the water and the storms and even the dead calm. I love the freedom of owning my own ship, making my own rules, answering to no one. I love seeing new places and tasting new food and buying exotic gifts… For Margaret. My Maggie. How am I going to make it six months—mayhap more—without you? As much as I want to stay, I have to go. There are more adventures for me in this life yet, and she knew as much when she married me. Only, now with little Jamie, for that’s what we call James Jr., she’s not free to enjoy them with me. So I’ll sail the West Indies for both of us—all three of us. I’ll buy her silk cloth for beautiful dresses and spices for delicious food and rum for us to drink on cold London evenings. And I’ll write in this set of six journals for both of us. This set Maggie gave me on the morning of our departure. And maybe, if I have a spot of the old Doubleda
Chapter 11
Chapter 12 “L adies first?” Josie said. Of course, now that there was something dangerous to do, he was the soul of chivalry. But she wasn’t about to let a dark night, an empty house, and a teeny bit of breaking and entering scare her. If he wanted her to go first, she’d show him. Of course, perhaps this was the time when the treasure’s bad luck would catch up to her. Maybe there’d be some old butler inside the house, pistol primed and ready to shoot her dead as soon as she was inside. Bad luck or no, Josie was too close to the treasure to stop now. Hoisting herself up, she crawled through the window, managing not to knock anything over once inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she saw she was in the music room. There was a small lamp near the window, and she moved it aside as Westman came through. Once inside, they lit two lamps, and he led the way through the silent house. They surveyed most of the ground floor as well as the first floor, and then Westm
Chapter 12
Chapter 13 “H e’s not coming,” Josie said, pacing the assembly rooms where Catie’s ball was in full swing. “Stop worrying,” Ashley said, sipping the glass of punch her last dance partner had fetched for her. “It’s still early.” “It’s after midnight,” Josie said. “He’s not coming.” She clenched her pretty emerald silk reticule, sewn to match her dress, and could feel her half of the map inside. “Why does it matter if he comes, anyway?” Maddie asked. “I thought you didn’t like him.” “I don’t,” Josie answered. It was a lie and a blatant one. It mattered very much whether Westman made an appearance, and not simply because she wanted to see the contents of that haversack. It was more than that now. There was more between them than the treasure, the adventure, and her grandfather’s legacy. There was trust. What had Westman said today? Together until the end. She’d trusted Westman more than any other man. This afternoon, it had pained her physically to allow him to walk away with that haversa
Chapter 13
Chapter 14 “D o you see why I hate him?” Josie said, hours later, as she sat crushed together with her cousins on one side of the Valentine town coach. “I thought your mother was going to faint,” Maddie said from her right. “I thought she was going to cry,” Ashley said from the left. “You are sadly mistaken,” Josie informed her. “That’s how she looks when she’s contemplating murder.” “You were only dancing,” Lord Valentine said oh-so-reasonably from the other side of the carriage, where he was seated beside his wife, Catie. “Dancing with Lord Westman,” Josie shot back. “Do you know what that means?” She was practically screaming, and Valentine shrank back slightly. “Apparently not.” “I am doomed. As soon as I step foot in the town house, I will be subjected to tortures none of you can imagine.” “Lord, Josie! Must you be so dramatic?” Catie asked. “And if you were already in so much trouble, why did you sneak away and come with us? Your mother has probably sent men out to search for you
Chapter 14
Chapter 15 J osie lay in Westman’s arms, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breathing. After their lovemaking, he’d pulled her against his chest and cradled her in the envelope of his arms. She’d never felt so safe or so cared for. She sighed with contentment. She was tired and sore and wonderfully satiated. She had known it would be like this with him. She had wanted him, and she’d had him, and she didn’t regret it. Lying here in his arms, the zing of the plea sure he’d given her still coursing through her limbs—how could she regret this? She only hoped he felt the same. He’d said he didn’t want her, and she’d known it was a lie; but now that her mind was clearer, she revisited those words. He didn’t have to mean that he didn’t want her physically—she had known he wanted her that way almost from the beginning—but he could mean that he didn’t want any more from her. He wanted her body and the plea sure she gave him, but that was all. And Josie never expected anything more. She’
Chapter 15
Chapter 16 A fter four hours with nothing to do but stare at her fingers, Josie decided they were too wrinkled. She’d turned them this way and that, held them up to the light and then back under the carriage shadows, and now she was just plain sick of them. She glanced over at Westman, still brooding on his side of the Doubleday family coach. He’d been sitting like that, arms crossed over his chest, hat pulled low, eyes focused resolutely out the window, since they’d taken their places this morning. She’d squirmed and shifted, trying to get comfortable during this long trek to Cornwall, but he had not moved. Not once. It was actually rather unnerving after a while, and she’d taken to staring at him under her lashes to be certain he still breathed. When she had once again established that he was still alive, she’d turn back to her fingers and her own musings. She wished she had a book to read. She wished one of her cousins were here to talk to. She wished Westman wasn’t such a typical m
Chapter 16
Chapter 17 A n hour passed, maybe more, and Stephen called for wine, then bread and cheese, then a fire. He and Josephine were safe in their nest and getting nowhere. They’d added the ware house owner in Seven Dials to their list of people who might know of their search for the treasure, and that had sparked off a bit of conjecture. Had the owner suspected their true purpose in coming to the ware house, and, if so, whom had he told? “What does it matter?” Josephine had asked. She was lying on the bed, and Stephen thought she might be a bit tipsy. She’d drunk a good many glasses of wine, and her speech was slurred. One arm was slung over her head, and she waved the other around expansively when talking. Yes, she was definitely tipsy. Stephen was glad. He didn’t want any more trouble from her to night. The fool girl had actually wanted to go after the men who’d shot at her. He’d had to hold her back. The little idiot! She didn’t even carry a knife, much less a pistol. Was she going to ar
Chapter 17
Chapter 18 J osie’s head was spinning, partly from the wine and partly from Westman’s skilled lips and fingers. She had barely got her breath back, when he pulled her up and turned her around. To her surprise, he tugged her into a gentle embrace, holding her carefully, almost as though she were a porcelain doll. It was nice. She’d never been treated like a fragile thing before. And she was not under the illusion that any man would have acted the same. He was an exceptional lover. Even inexperienced as she was, she knew that there was something remarkable between them. Had she ever imagined that a man could give her so much plea sure? Had she ever understood how consuming being held by a man like Westman could be? Why, he could make her forget all about treasure and clearing her grandfather’s name with one kiss. And to night she wanted to forget. To night she wanted to give him as much plea sure as he had given her. An idea sprang to mind, and she lifted her lashes to peer at him surrep
Chapter 18
Chapter 19 J osie landed on a rock and her shoulder exploded with pain. But she wasn’t shot. That was the most important thing. “Stephen,” she croaked when she could force a bit of air back into her lungs. “Are you badly hurt? You’re bleeding.” “A nick, that’s all,” he answered. He was practically on top of her, shielding her with his body. He was always trying to protect her—an annoying habit until right now, when she really needed it. She heard another crash from the area of the beach where they had come from, and a shot whizzed over their heads. “That was close!” she screamed, and Stephen pulled her against him. nm 278 “We have to get down from here. We’re sitting targets.” Of course they were, she thought. She knew this treasure was bad luck. Being shot at was probably only one of the trials they’d endure. Josie glanced around. All about them was smooth granite and soft grass. Then she spotted the opening. “There.” She pointed to the fissure in the rock. “We can climb down there.”
Chapter 19
Chapter 20 J osie’s boots were wet, her hands were scraped, and every single pore inside her vibrated with terror. But she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. She could have kissed the rocks beneath her feet, if it didn’t mean bending closer to the water sloshing at her feet. She didn’t know how they’d done it, but they’d climbed down. Just as Westman had promised, there’d been places for her hands and feet when she most needed them. The way had been tricky, but not nearly as steep as it had looked from above. And now they were safe, more or less. They still had to go back to the beach and the inn, but at least they would do it from the ground. Lord, if she ever arrived home safely, she promised she would never climb out of a window again. She promised she would stay on the ground, avoid adventure, avoid heights altogether. Why, she’d even avoid the box seats at the theater. “Keep moving,” Westman called from ahead of her, and Josie reluctantly plodded on. They weren’t he
Chapter 20
Chapter 21 J osie jumped, rapping her head hard on Westman’s chin. He spun her around, and she was staring directly into the face of a one-eyed man. He was old, his partner far younger and holding a pistol pointed at her heart. Westman immediately took her by the waist and pushed her behind him. “Good evening, Lord Westman. Miss ’ale,” the one-eyed man said. “Thought we might find ye ’ere.” “Thought we might see you two again,” Westman said, angling his body to shield her. Josie took the opportunity to back up, closer to the treasure. If she could just close the lid of the trunk she’d opened, maybe the men wouldn’t see… 308 “Miss ’ale,” the one-eyed man said. “I wouldn’t go touching that if I were you. It’s not yourn.” She paused, hand hovering above the trunk. Slowly, she turned back to the men. “It is mine. I’ve been searching for this treasure since I was six years old.” “Josephine,” Westman warned, but she ignored him, pushing past him when he tried to hold her back with an out-flu
Chapter 21
Chapter 22 I t took Josie three days to return to London. It took three minutes for her mother to haul her into the Hale town house, push her up the stairs, and lock her in her room. It took her cousins three hours to show up and sneak Josie out of the house. The Hale-Doubleday scandal, as the papers called it, was raging through the city, and Josie knew her cousins took a risk coming to see her. Even so, she’d refused to climb out of the window. After the cliffs of Polperro, she was done with heights, but her cousins scooted her out the back door when her mother was out. It had been hard for Josie to look at Westman’s house, so close to hers, and know he wasn’t there. He was lying penniless and injured because of her. It had been humbling to know she was so selfish that she had almost got him killed. At least she had stuck to her promise. He had lived, and she had left him. She’d never again be his problem. “You were never his problem,” Catie said, shaking Josie’s shoulders. “And what
Chapter 22
Chapter 23 I t was late when Stephen strode out of Thomas Coutts & Company. His business had taken longer than he’d anticipated, and he was tired and far from finished with his plans for the evening. Raising his hand, he summoned a hack and directed the jarvey to drive to the Doubleday town house in Mayfair. But he wasn’t going home. Not yet. Not until he had the promises he craved from a certain feisty redhead. He’d already heard word she was home. Her irate parents had put her under lock and key, and Stephen was glad of it. It meant she would be there when he came to fetch her. He patted his pocket, where the special license felt thick and heavy. He would have been through here earlier, if he hadn’t had to see the Archbishop of Canterbury first. Stephen continued patting his pocket and stared out the window, his heart thumping hard against his rib cage when the cab turned down his street. The windows at the Hale house hold were full of light. He would have no reprieve. He straightene
Chapter 23
Chapter 24 I t was not a romantic wedding. Stephen had carried her outside, summoned a hack, and knocked on church officials’ doors until he found one willing to marry them right then. They’d been married in the first house where the vicar had opened the door. The vicar had been sleepy-eyed and his wife, in her nightgown, their only witness. And then Stephen had taken Josie home. To his home, to his bed. He’d thought of everything, and there were rose petals strewn on the coverlet, candles flickering throughout the room, and wine on the bedside table. She’d wanted to appreciate the small touches he’d made, but it was difficult when all she could think was how much she wanted to tear off his shirt. As soon as he closed the bedroom door, she did just that. His skin was warm to her touch, and her mouth went dry as she watched the candlelight play light and shadow over his bare chest. “I like you naked,” she murmured, touching her tongue to the hollow at the base of his throat. His pulse j
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Chapter 25 T he breakfast was not going well. Josie could see that. Her family was on one side of her drawing room, and Westman’s family had camped on the other. A vast expanse of polished marble floor separated them, and the invisible barrier was as solid as any made of brick and mortar. They’d made introductions, welcomed everyone, encouraged mingling, and no one was cooperating. Only her cousins made an effort to cross the great divide—and, Josie saw—got nothing for their efforts. They were ignored by Westman’s side and chided by her side. Finally, after trying everything she knew, Josie gave Maddie a pleading look, and Maddie pantomimed lifting her glass and toasting. Good idea. Josie turned to Stephen, who was standing beside her at the head of the room, looking as troubled as she. “I think you should make a toast.” She elbowed him in the side. “Everyone has champagne.” He gave her a doubtful look. “And just what am I supposed to toast? Familial love? Togetherness? This is a disas
Chapter 25
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