How to Be a Proper Lady

weapons at the prison, so I brought this.”

Muskrat drew back his coat to reveal the butt of a firearm stuffed into his trousers. “And I brought me my pistol. We can have us a nice party now.”

She set her hand on her sweetly curved hip. “Pistol or no, give him the box or he will kill you for it.”

“Got your fancy piece doing your work for you now, Pharaoh? P’raps you have turned over a new leaf.” He winked at her.

“Miss Daly,” Jin said in a low voice, “it is now high time that you depart.”

“I am not his fancy piece, whatever that is. I am the daughter of a lord, the Baron of Carlyle, and I will get you in a lot of trouble if you do not give him that box this very instant.”

Muskrat scoffed. “If you’re a baron’s daughter, then I’m Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

“Well then, it is an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She curtsied prettily. “Now give him the box.”

He looked skeptical. “If your da is Carlyle, why did the Pharaoh here call you Daly?”

“Anybody knows that a man’s surname may not be the same as his title, you ignoramus. But mine does happen to be Carlyle. Mr. Seton called me Daly to protect my identity. But since I don’t care about that anyway, it’s all well and good.”

“Viola, this is not helping,” Jin muttered.

“Of course it is. Can’t you see he is already starting to cave?”

“I admit to not yet having noticed that.”

“Well, your powers of observation are clearly less keen than mine.”

“Not concerning some matters.”

Muskrat’s gaze was flickering back and forth between them.

“You mean Aidan and his strong desire for impressive social connections? Which I figured out finally.”

“I wondered if you would.”

“He is not a bad man. Not as bad as you certainly. Rather, uncomplicated. Again, unlike you.”

Muskrat shot a snickering leer at Jin.

“Must we do this here and now, Viola?”

“You introduced the topic into conversation.”

“She got you there, Pharaoh.”

Viola shrugged. “Sometimes he’s not very bright, it’s true.”

Turning away with rolled eyes, Jin took an obviously frustrated breath, and-so swiftly Viola barely saw it happen-swung at Muskrat. The man went down hard to the boards. Jin didn’t give him a moment to recover but fisted his neck cloth and twisted it tight. Muskrat struggled, swinging back and coughing, and the casket tumbled out from beneath his overcoat. Viola leaped for it, but his arms and legs flailed in her way. A boy darted in, grabbed the box, and bolted.

“Jin, the casket! That boy has it!”

The lad ran, his little arms barely able to hold the box and his lantern at once, down the dock and to the next gangway. He turned to look back, tripped on the gangplank, and casket and lantern flew-the casket into the Thames, the lantern onto the deck of the closest vessel, where it shattered. In a flash, fire licked across the deck, following the lamp oil.

Viola’s hands slapped over her mouth. “Holy Mother Mary. Isn’t that your ship, Jin?”

Muskrat’s eyes were saucers. “You can have your box, Smythe.” He bolted, the boy chasing after, pushing through men running toward the deck on fire.

Viola rushed forward, but by the time she reached the gangway the flames were already doused and black smoke curled from the steaming planking. Dockworkers and sailors carrying charred cloths disembarked. Several glanced at Jin and tugged their hats respectfully before moving off.

Viola gaped in a terribly unladylike fashion as he came to her side. “I think it is a very good thing I had no idea who you really were when you appeared on that dock in Boston demanding I give you work. As it was, I was enormously impressed with myself for gaining the attention of the notorious Pharaoh. But if I had known the entire truth I would have been terrified to even speak with such an exalted personage.”

“Then I am very glad you did not know the entire truth.”

Gathering courage, finally she looked up at him. His gaze shone in the failing light.

Her hands flew to her mouth again. “The casket! Oh, Jin, I am so sorry,” she groaned. “It’s gone.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t need it any longer.”

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t? But I thought-”

He shook his head.

She fisted her hands. “Then what do you need?”

“You.” His gaze consumed her. “I need you. Viola, I need you.”

“You are repeating. You are trying to convince yourself, aren’t you?”

“You are an impossible woman. I am declaring my love to you and still you quarrel with me.”

“Well if you had mentioned the love part right away I might not have-”

He halted her speech with the most beautiful kiss any woman had ever gotten, she was certain. They both became quite breathless.

Abruptly, he thrust her to arm’s length. Shabby treatment, as always, but she didn’t care. And a lump had taken up residence in her throat so she could not quarrel even if she wished.

“I love you, Viola. I want you. I want you forever.” His voice was thoroughly uneven. Heavenly. “Say you love me too.”

“I don’t take orders,” she barely managed to choke out.

“It is not an order. It is a plea.”

She swallowed thickly. Twice. For the first time in fifteen years since a band of scruffy sailors had gagged her mouth, she actually could not manage to speak.

Jin’s gaze covered her face, at once warm and anxious. “Viola, I am perishing before you. Perishing.” His tone was strained. “Say something.”

She nodded.

“What does that mean?”

She nodded again, faster, her throat a clogged mess of joy.

His eyes seemed to sparkle. “You do love me.”

She got dizzy nodding.

“Why aren’t you speaking? What is-”

She clutched her neck. “C-an-not-” she rasped. “Fr-frogh.”

He looked astounded. Then he pulled her hand away and bent to set his mouth atop her windpipe.

“Function, beautiful harridan’s voice,” he murmured, trailing soft, sweet kisses along her throat. His fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head back. “Speak. I want to hear the words. I need to hear them.”

“Of course I love you,” she whispered, barely a sound through her thick throat. But it was enough for him, apparently. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her tight to him. She buried her face against his chest and squeezed her eyes shut. “At Savege Park you said that your feelings had not altered,” she said on a damp little hiccup of happiness.

“They had not.” He kissed her brow. “Have not.”

“But-”

He silenced her again with his mouth. Quite nice. Quite perfect. Quite as much like paradise as Viola had ever dared to hope or dream. Because this time he was hers.

Abruptly the import of his words struck her. She pushed him away.

“You were in love with me then? At the end of the fortnight?”

He kept hold of her wrists. His eyes were bright but he said nothing.

“You allowed me to believe-” She gaped. “You mean to say, I won the wager?”

“Yes.”

“You lied to me so you could repay your debt?”

“I did. And because I believed you belonged here.”