person, since she was Harrietâs age, and her mother had been alive.
When they were finished eating, a maid of middle years came in. She curtsied politely, said her name was Mary Crandall, and instantly led Harriet to the bedroom to help unpack their few belongings. She took their dirty clothes to be laundered, their shoes to be polished, and said a bath was being brought up, as soon as miss was ready.
Allie had never known such luxury, not even at Papaâs house. Here the soaps were scented, the towels were heated, the water had not been used by anyone else first. As she scrubbed her hair, determined to stay in the copper tub until her toes turned white and shriveled, Allie thought that such opulence was far more seductive than any raffish, lop-sided smile.
Who was she fooling?
The captain was the hero of every femaleâs fantasies, and he made Allie feel emotions she never knew she had, or had forgotten. She was five and twenty, no dewy miss to be infatuated with a handsome face and a virile form, and yet she was thinking of him while in her bath, naked, washing herself. Goodness, he no more belonged in her waking dreams than he belonged in her bed!
And she had accepted his money. Heavens, he might think she was open to other suggestions. She should have left.
He had been right, though, to convince her to stay. She had been feeling light-headed and hungry, and she needed the extra coins. It was dark, Harriet would have been all aloneâ¦and Allie had been afraid. Besides, no one needed to know where she was. Tomorrow she could try the placement agencies if the captain did not find a separate residence for them. No, that would never do, either. If he set up an establishment in London, people would assume the worst. They would decide Allie was under the protection of a rakish bachelor, which would be nothing less than the truth, albeit the innocent truth. They would assume she was his next Rochelle. Perhaps she should change her name to Allyne dâArgent? Allie stifled a nervous giggle, making sure the maid was busy with Harriet in the other room.
Sheâd had too much wine. Calloway had said it would help her stuffed head. Instead the wine, along with the warmth of the bath, was helping her think licentious thoughts. Allie stepped out of the tub and dried herself briskly, shaking off unwanted images with the bath water. She reminded herself that when Captain Endicott sent Harriet off to school, the governess would be left homeless and jobless again, but this time with the references of the owner of The Red and the Black, a gambling casino, not a polite academy for girls. The thought of applying for a position with a rakeâs recommendation in hand left her colder than the night air, before she lowered a clean flannel night gown over her head. Mary had produced it from somewhere, thank heavens, for Allieâs own still smelled of smoke from the fire at Mrs. Sempleâs.
No matter the comforts here, Allie knew she should have gone. Nothing good could come from being at The Red and the Black but a decent dinner and clean hair. There was no way the captain could make her employment by him respectable, and many ways he could make it ruinous.
Of course, she thought as she got into bed beside Harriet, the one thing she did not have to worry about was her virtue. Captain Jack might be a womanizer, but he was not interested in her as anything but a nanny. She was safe from seduction, at least. The realization did not make Allie happy.
Knowing that in the morning she had to leave the comfort of this soft-as-eiderdown bed forever did not make her happy, either.
Her thoughts were dismal, and the dog snored louder than Miss Wolfe. And Harriet tossed and turned so often that Allie could not sleep despite the wine and her exhaustion. Having that nice maid bring her a lavender-soaked cloth for her aching head, now that made her happy.
She eventually drifted into slumber, not thinking of tomorrow, not
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