Page 107 of The Pirate and the Pagan
She did, however, enjoy Lil’s company and listened eagerly to all her outrageous stories. Apparently her dearest friend’s husband, Lord Worthing, had chased her until she slowed down long enough to let him catch her. With sparkling eyes she told Summer, “I don’t think it will be long before he invents business in London and shows up at Cockspur Street.”
Lil prophesied, “Mark my words, we are in for the most outrageous season London has enjoyed since Charles’s restoration. The court has absolutely stagnated in Salisbury and like a pack of wild beasts is ready to be let loose from its cage.” Within a month all the theaters reopened and shopkeepers didn’t know what to do with the profits they were making since London had gone on a buying spree. New businesses flourished. Moneylenders, gambling houses, and brothels were in competition to take over empty buildings.
The small house on Cockspur Street was bulging at the seams and Summer decided it was high time she took a small house of her own. Rents were climbing every week and she decided to pay Solomon Storm a visit to see if her finances were healthy enough to allow her to acquire a place of her own.
Summer had ignored the many invitations she’d received for balls, masquerades, and parties, feeling most virtuous in leading a secluded life until after the birth of her child. She thought she looked ungainly, and even though Lady Richwood swore she looked no such thing, she certainly felt ungainly now that she was in the late months of her pregnancy.
Solomon Storm provided her with a comfortable chair and insisted she put her feet up on a footstool when he saw her condition. She explained what she wanted and Solomon pursed his lips and made steeples out of his fingers as he explained to her that the fashionable districts were now beyond the means of most citizens. “Westminster, St. James, and Mayfair are bringing astronomical sums. I’m afraid you’ll have to ask your husband to make you a present of a house again.”
“Mr. Storm … Solomon … Lord Helford never made me a present of a house. As a matter of fact he’s no longer my husband. I’ve reverted to using my own name of St. Catherine since our marriage is annulled.”
Solomon Storm looked most concerned. “How can he possibly get the marriage annulled when you are so obviously enceinte—if you will forgive my indelicacy—-my lady?”
“It’s a mutual agreement,” she insisted. “It was my own decision,”
“Then let me say it is a terrible decision. In my business I need to know the law and my son is an attorney. I don’t know what went wrong in your marriage, my lady, and I have no desire to know, but Lord Helford is legally responsible for any issue of the marriage whether it is his or not, as so often is the case in these times.” He cleared his throat delicately. “If the marriage is to be put aside, at least you should wait until after the child is born. Then it will be Lord Helford’s legal heir and, if it proves to be a male issue, will inherit his title as well as his property.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do a mercenary thing like that. He already thinks I married him for his money. I’m quite sure Ruark Helford will do the right thing by his son—or daughter—without my blackmailing him into it.”
“I beg to differ, my lady. In my experience gentlemen seldom do the right thing from generosity of the heart. Rather they do the right thing only when pressed to do so.”
“Perhaps I could afford a house here in the city in a less fashionable locale?” she suggested.
“I have no doubt of it, my lady, and I shall find a couple of suitable properties immediately, but I would feel much better about things if you allowed me to approach Lord Helford. You should have a house as part of your settlement. It is scandalous that it has not already been provided.”
“Well, I’ll give it some thought, but I really don’t think I want to be obligated to any man, Mr. Storm.”
Within the week Solomon Storm showed her some suitable houses and she chose the one on Friday Street beside St. Matthew’s Church opposite the Old Exchange. It was a tall, narrow house like Lil Richwood’s and it had been newly decorated in lovely shades of peach and pale green and all the fireplaces had been freshly painted cream. The kitchen, pantry, and laundry were in the basement. On the main floor was a reception room, a dining room, and a comfortable salon, while upstairs held only two large bedchambers and a bathing room. Its attics had dormer windows perched above the bedchambers and she thought Spencer might like these for his own. Mrs. Bishop would sleep in the nursery and talked of nothing these days but the baby.
Summer told Lil about the new house and she immediately insisted upon helping her choose furniture and transforming one of the large bedrooms into a nursery. She couldn’t wait until Spencer arrived home to tell him of the house on Friday Street, but when she gave him the news, he looked a little sheepish and she knew he had no intention of coming to live with her. She could tell he was reluctant to tell her something, so she sat down, propped her feet on a footstool, and said, “Spider, you know you can tell me anything … what is it, love?”
He took a deep breath and plunged in. “Ruark has offered me a place on one of his ships.”
She jumped to her feet. “The swine! You’re not taking it!”
“Well, actually, I am, Cat.”
“You have no idea what sort of authoritarian he is. I’ve seen him flog a sailor bloody for taking a drink. Don’t you remember he knocked you down for a remark you made to me?” She was incensed.
“Well, actually, I sort of deserved it,” he temporized.
“Spencer, there’s a war on. Lightning blast the man—he once threatened to have you impressed into the navy. This is his way of hitting back at me!”
“For what. for Christ’s sake?” he demanded.
“For not letting him have his way with me.”
Spencer’s bark of laughter shocked her. “All he has to do is look at you and you roll on your back.”
She slapped him then. It was the first time she had ever struck him.
“You are about to bear the fruit of his labor,” he said, pointing to her stomach. “Stop pretending.”
“The child isn’t his,” she denied hotly.
Spencer said slowly, “You’d better not let him ever hear you say that. Not if you value your life.”
“It’s your life we are discussing. I refuse to let you go on one of his ships to become cannon fodder in this escalating war with Holland,” she shouted, then burst into frustrated tears.
