“Your Honor.” Edward stood up beside Quincy. “We have a second shopkeeper who will corroborate the first one’s testimony.”
The judge nodded his head. “Quincy Stanton, do you know who would wish to set you up in this manner?”
“Aye—”
“We have no idea,” Edward interrupted. He sat and pulled Quincy into his chair.
Quin whispered to his uncle, “What are you doing?”
Edward laid a hand on Quin’s shoulder. “You’re like a son to me, but Clarence is still my nephew.”
Quin shrugged off his uncle’s hand. “I cannot believe this.”
“You wish to see your own brother hang?”
“He deserves it.” Quin gritted his teeth. “ ’Tis what he planned for me.”
“I am prepared to rule,” the judge announced. “In light of the new evidence, I’m dismissing the charges against Quincy Stanton. Colonel Farley, I suggest you look elsewhere for the Boston Burglar. Perhaps, if you start with an accurate description of the man, you will have better success.”
Colonel Farley nodded, his face reddening. With a final glare directed at Quincy, he pivoted and marched from the courtroom. As the judge rose to his feet, everyone stood.
Quin leaned toward his uncle. “Edward, if you don’t turn in Clarence, I will. He’s still a threat to Virginia and our business.”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan.” Edward motioned to their solicitor. “I need to talk to Winkle. Why don’t you give your wife a hug?”
Because I don’t deserve her. Quincy watched Virginia rush toward him, smiling. He groaned inwardly when he saw the slight limp in her steps. It was his fault for placing her in danger.
“Quincy!” She wrapped her arms around him.
He held her tight and breathed in the scent of lavender he had missed as much as sleep and warmth. “Thank God you’re all right.”
Edward had described her escape from Clarence, thinking the news would cheer him during his stay in prison. It had, for a few moments. Then guilt and shame had crept in like the icy drafts through the thin walls to settle into his bones. He had endangered her. He had failed to protect her.
He eased away from her embrace. “I need a bath.”
“Aye, ye do.” Mr. Munro towered behind his daughter. “I’ve met polecats that smelled better.”
“Father, please.” Virginia frowned at him. “Quincy cannot help his condition. He’s been in jail for several days.”
“Humph. So I hear.” The huge Scotsman narrowed his eyes.
“How do you do, sir?” Quin extended a hand and restrained from wincing when Mr. Munro tried to crush his bones.
“Congratulations.” Mary Dover kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you.” Quin accepted another hug, from Caroline. “Can we go home, now? I think I could sleep for a week.”
Wednesday, February 7, 1770
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize you were here.” Having just entered the study, Quin turned toward the door to leave.
“Doona fash yerself. Come in, lad.” Virginia’s father sat up on the pallet by the hearth and stretched. “All the bedchambers are full, so I’m sleeping in here. Would ye care for a wee dram?”
“Yes, thank you.” Quincy approached the warmth of the glowing coals and sat down. After sleeping all night and most of this day, he felt better equipped for this confrontation. He had no doubt Virginia’s father wanted a few words with him.
Mr. Munro poured two drinks and handed him one. With a yawn, the Scotsman settled in another chair. “Feeling better, are ye now?”
“Yes.” No. He could hardly face his own wife.
“Ginny and yer uncle explained the situation to me, how yer father wants to steal yer business.”
“Mr. Munro, I assure you, if I had realized beforehand the danger to Ginny by ceding the business to her, I would never have agreed.”
“Call me Jamie. Would ye have preferred to lose yer life’s work?”
“I would prefer anything other than endangering my wife.”
Jamie Munro sipped his whiskey and studied Quin with narrowed eyes. “After I finish my drink, I’ll be wanting to bash you around a wee bit.”
Quin sighed. “I deserve that much, no doubt.”
“Aye, ye do, for whining like a wee bairn. Do ye think I raised my children to be helpless fools? If ye insult their intelligence, I’ll be taking it personally.”
“Excuse me?”
“I raised my children to take care of themselves. My lassies are quick and clever. They doona need a man to look out for them.”
Quin gulped down some whiskey. “It is my duty to protect my wife.”
“Aye, and ’tis also yer duty to protect yer land, or in yer case, yer business. But ye’re no’ alone, lad. Ginny can fight alongside you. She has the blood of Highlanders in her veins.”
Quin set his glass down with a clunk. “No offense, sir, but I do not wish to rely on Ginny’s bloodlines to keep her safe. Nor do I expect her to fight like a man.”
Jamie banged his glass down. “Doona ever underestimate a Highlander. She has intelligence and bravery to see her through. Just look how she handled that Clarence bastard when he kidnapped her.”
“I know she saved herself.” Quin jumped to his feet and paced across the room. “I should have been there. Dammit, I should have been honest with her. She had no idea Clarence would come after her.”
“Why did ye no’ tell her?”
Quin halted, staring at the bookcase before him. Ledgers for the last twenty years of Stanton Shipping filled the shelves—ledgers he had painstakingly learned to keep in order to please his uncle, even though as a young boy he had hated it. He had lived with the fear that Edward would reject him. Just like his father had. “I was afraid she would leave me.” He heard Jamie pouring himself another drink.
“I may still have to bash you in the nose.”
Quin turned to face the Scotsman who appeared to bark more than bite. “What have I done now?”
“Hasna Ginny said she loves you?”
Quin shifted uncomfortably. “Aye.”
“Do ye think I raised my children to be liars?”
“No, of course not.”
Jamie downed his drink and settled on his pallet in front of the hearth. “Lad, when the woman says she loves you, ye should believe her. She’ll no’ be leaving you.”
Quin ambled over to where the huge redheaded man stretched out on the pallet. “I expected to hear something to the effect that I’m not good enough for your daughter.”
Jamie yawned. “That goes without saying, but ye’ll do.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, aye, I knew that when I heard ye were in trouble with the British authorities. To a Highlander, that’s a positive trait.” Jamie rolled onto his side. “Good night, laddie.”
“Why should I listen to you, Stanton? You were wrong about your brother. Quincy Stanton is not the burglar.” Colonel Farley took a seat behind the desk in the Ashfords’ study.
Clarence calmly sipped his Madeira. “Has it occurred to you, Colonel, that Edward Stanton may have paid for the testimonies from those shopkeepers? You saw them. Those types could easily be bought.”
“Damn!” The colonel slammed his fist on the desk. “These Americans have embarrassed me for the last time.”
Clarence studied his buffed fingernails. “There have been other times?”
“Aye, blast them. I had two of those damn rebels in my grasp after the destruction of The Sentinel, but they escaped.”
“A pity.” Clarence rose to his feet and sauntered over to the sideboard to refill his glass. In spite of his cool demeanor, he fully sympathized with the colonel’s desire to curse and hit furniture. He had sacrificed a valuable piece of jewelry in order to trap his brother, and the blasted plan
had not worked. That damned wench, Virginia, had put a knot on his head the size of an apple, and now Quincy was free. “These Americans are far too arrogant.”
“I agree. My men cannot go anywhere without the Colonials flinging mud and curses at them.”
Clarence returned to his chair. “How did the two rebels escape?”
“ ’Twas the night of your brother’s wedding. We were to deliver the men to a British frigate, which we did, but then the two men disappeared.”
Clarence gripped his glass tighter. “It happened on Quincy’s wedding night?” He had ordered Samuel Millstead to watch his brother, and that had been the night when Samuel had seen Quincy sneak home through the back gate dressed in common clothes. Had Quincy helped the two rebels escape? “Did you ever discover who destroyed The Sentinel?”
“No. But since he handled that submersible so well, I believe him to be a sailor.”
Or a sea captain, Clarence thought, sitting up in his chair. That was the night Quin came home late with the story he had been with Virginia when, according to the Millsteads, he had been at the harbor with Josiah. “Your men chased someone onto Quincy’s ship, did they not?”
“Aye, but we found no one.”
“Think, man. Have there been any other odd occurrences?”
The colonel leaned back in his chair. “Yes, an important letter disappeared off this very desk, and the next day it was in all the papers. At first I suspected one of Mrs. Ashford’s servants, but none of them can read. So I can only conclude it was one of her guests.”
“Do you remember which night that was?”
“Of course. ’Twas the night of the ball when that damned burglar robbed Mrs. Ashford.” Colonel Farley sipped his drink. “You remember. Captain Breakwell and I searched the men. ’Twas your suggestion.”
“And the missing paper was not found.”
“No, nor the jewels. Whoever it was, he must have sneaked out and hidden—I say, do you think the Boston Burglar stole the paper, too?”
“An interesting notion.” Clarence thought back. That was the night Quin and Virginia had dashed from the party in a great hurry. When they returned, he had stashed the jewels in Quin’s carriage. And a very interesting carriage it was, with the hidden rod in the ceiling and compartment under the backseat.
Clarence nodded his head slowly. He could still be rid of his brother. The title would be his. The business, the fortune, everything. And Father would never threaten to disown him again.
Smiling, Clarence lounged back in his chair. “I think you are on to something, Colonel. My brother is much more than the Boston Burglar. I believe we can prove he’s a spy.”
Thursday, February 15, 1770
“I believe I’m with child.” Virginia stopped when she saw the surprised look on her aunt’s face. “I’m amazed Caroline didn’t tell you.”
“No, not a word.” Mary gave her an excited hug. “This is marvelous news! I’m so happy for you. I always wanted to have children.”
“It may not be too late for you, Aunt Mary.”
“Och, now, doona be silly. Certain things require a husband.” Mary busied herself pouring them two mugs of hot chocolate.
Virginia smiled. “I believe there’s a willing candidate here in this house.”
Mary blushed. “Enough of me, lass.” She handed a mug to Virginia and sat across from her in Edward’s parlor. “Now, how did Quincy take the news?”
Virginia curled her fingers around the pewter mug. The heat seeped through the metal into her cold hands. “I haven’t told him.”
“Why not? It might cheer the man up. He seems a wee grim these days.”
“I know.” Virginia chewed her lip. Quincy’s behavior had been much on her mind the past week. He insisted she stay home, where she could be safe, but rarely spent time with her. She had an odd feeling he was embarrassed in her presence. His lovemaking had a tinge of desperation to it that disturbed her. “I believe it is very difficult for him—the way his British family treats him. His own brother wanted him to hang.”
“Aye, poor Quin,” Mary agreed. “But Edward tells me he has a plan to send Clarence home to England for good. With the testimonies from those shopkeepers, he can threaten Clarence with exposure if he doesn’t leave.”
“I see.” Virginia lifted her mug of chocolate and breathed in the comforting aroma. “We will certainly rest easier then.”
“Aye.” Mary nodded and sipped from her mug. “The only problem is Edward cannot threaten Clarence ’til he finds out where the man is hiding. My stars!” Mary stared at her brother when he sauntered into the parlor. “What have you done, Jamie?”
Jamie smiled lopsidedly with a puffy cheek and cut lip. “I came looking for a wee bashing, and I found one.”
Virginia frowned. “You didn’t hit Quincy, did you?”
“Nay, lass. ’Twas a few of those filthy redcoats. Whatever is in this pot?” He lifted the lid and snorted. “Chocolate. The stuff is for bairns.”
“Aye, so it is.” Mary gave Virginia a knowing smile.
“Father, you shouldn’t pick fights with the soldiers.”
“Now, lass, the wee beasties were askin’ for it.” Jamie splashed whiskey into a glass. “They attacked a group of ropemakers for no good reason. One of the soldiers asked for work, and a ropemaker kindly offered to let him clean his privy.” With a grimace, he swallowed his drink.
“You should clean that cut,” Mary said.
“The whiskey will take care of it.” Jamie turned his head when Quincy appeared in the doorway. “Ye missed a good fight, lad.”
Quin leaned on the doorjamb. “I hear there’s a brawl with the redcoats every day now.”
“Aye,” Jamie agreed with a smile. “This Boston is a lively place.”
Virginia sighed. “Father, this is not a game. The British are armed with muskets and cannon.”
“Aye, I was thinking, we should get some muskets, too.” Jamie pivoted to Quin. “Are there any in the house?”
“Only one. I had more, but they were in the coach my brother stole.” Quin scowled at his shoes.
“Clarence doesn’t have them,” Virginia announced. “I threw them out and hid them by the gallows on the Neck.”
Quin raised his head and stared at her.
Jamie chuckled. “That’s a good lass.”
A banging on the front door drew their attention. Quin strode toward the door. Virginia set down her mug and followed her aunt and father into the hall.
Colonel Farley and a dozen redcoats marched in. Virginia felt a shiver creep down her spine. No, not again.
“What’s the meaning of this, Colonel?” Quincy demanded. “We proved I am not the Boston Burglar. If you want him, I suggest you look for my—”
“I suggest you hold your tongue, young man.” Colonel Farley unrolled a document. “You’ll not pay your way out of this one. I thoroughly investigated the matter. Found a man who rows a boat on the Charles River with an interesting story. He identifies you as the pilot of the submersible used to destroy The Sentinel.”
Quin’s face visibly whitened.
Virginia rushed forward. “That’s not true. He was with me that night. Remember, Aunt Mary? ’Twas the night he proposed to me.”
The colonel dismissed her with a scornful look. “I would expect you to defend your husband, but ’twill not help. We have all the proof we need. Quincy Stanton, you’re under arrest for high treason.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Virginia clutched her stomach as a wave of nausea swept through her. She swallowed hard, determined not to be ill in front of Quin.
His face harsh and pale, Quincy stood quietly while a soldier tied his hands behind his back.
Jamie strode toward the door. “I’ll come with you, lad.”
“No,” Quin spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll go alon
e. Stay here and watch Virginia.”
“We’ll send Edward and Mr. Winkle.” Virginia approached Quin and pressed the palms of her hands against his cold cheeks. “ ’Twill be all right. We’ll not give up.”
His jaw tightened, the muscles rippling under her hand. “Stay with your father. He can protect you.” Quin pivoted and marched from the house with the soldiers.
As the door shut, it blurred before Virginia’s tear-misted eyes. “Nooo.” Her voice filled the silence with a soft, mournful cry. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed in a heap of woolen skirts on the hallway floor.
“Jamie, move her into the study by the fire,” Mary ordered. “She can lie on your pallet.”
“Aye.” Jamie helped Virginia to her feet.
She felt as if she were floating and their voices were far away. This couldn’t be happening. Her father set her down on his pallet and stoked the fire.
Smoke stung her tear-filled eyes. It crept into her nostrils with the memory of death.
Her stomach lurched. She grabbed a leather fire bucket from the hearth and retched ’til her stomach was empty.
“Ginny.” Mary hunched down beside her, offering her a handkerchief. “Lie down. You must be strong for the sake of the baby.”
“Baby?” Jamie jumped to his feet. “Are ye expecting a bairn, lass?”
Virginia splayed her hand over her belly as she rolled onto her side. “Aye, but he’ll not have a father.” Tears rolled across her face, dropping onto her father’s pallet. “What will we do?”
“ ’Twill be fine, Ginny.” Jamie squatted beside her and rubbed her back. “He was released before when they thought he was a burglar. ’Twill be the same way with this treason nonsense.”
“ ’Tis not nonsense, Papa. Quin did blow up The Sentinel.”
Jamie sat back on his heels. “He blew up a British ship? How?”
“With a submersible. And a bomb with some sort of delayed flintlock device. Quincy tried to explain it to me. He’s very knowledgeable about such matters.”
“So all that fancy fop business is pretense?”