The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins - [13]

‘St Giles. Fleet wanted to see his boy.’

Kitty stiffened and glanced at Sam, who was pouring himself a mug of small beer. Sam’s uncle, Samuel Fleet, had been her guardian and she had loved him fiercely, for all his faults. This was the only reason she allowed Sam to live under her roof. She did not trust or like James, his father. ‘Dangerous place to be strolling about,’ she said, running her fingers down my waistcoat. ‘I hope you took care of him.’

‘It was perfectly safe, we-’

‘I was talking to Sam,’ she laughed, letting me go.

Sam’s cheeks flushed pink. It was hard to read his thoughts in the main, but where Kitty was concerned he might as well have shouted them from the rooftops. She was a lively, pretty young woman. He was a fourteen-year-old boy. Not everything in life is a mystery.

‘You are in a merry mood,’ I said, smiling down at her. I was pleased she had recovered from Gonson’s visit.

‘I have a gift for you.’ She kissed me upon the lips, stopping the question. ‘Tonight.’

A gift. My mind wandered over the delicious possibilities. Was it too much to hope she’d found a willing friend and asked her to join us…?

Yes, most likely it was.

She removed the apron she’d tied about her waist and shook out the dust. ‘You must change before we leave, Tom. I can smell the stews on your clothes.’

I frowned, sniffing my shirt cuff. ‘Leave? Where?’

Her lips pinched into a hard line. She folded the apron hard. Snap. Snap.

Oh, Lord.‘Supper…?’ I guessed.

‘Supper. Theatre. The Eliots.’

Damn it. I had clean forgot. John Eliot was Kitty’s lawyer, and an old, trusted acquaintance of her father. He and his wife Dorothy were fond of Kitty and saw a good deal of her – at the risk of their own reputation. An unmarried woman, sharing my bed and running a notorious print shop? As far as good society was concerned, Gonson spoke the truth – Kitty was nothing more than a whore. ‘Better a whore than a slave,’ she would say with a curl of her lip. But her defiance starved her of companions. She was nota whore, nor a servant, nor a lady. She did not fit. The Eliots, thus, were precious friends. Dorothy – who was much younger than her husband – was expecting her first child in the spring. Kitty had taken to visiting her several times a week, basket brimming with fresh fruit and home-made tinctures.

The Eliots were pleasant enough company and I loved a night at the theatre, for the audience as much as the play. There was always some great spectacle or scandal, and it was amusing to watch the nobs rub shoulders with the rest of us. But I had made a deal with James Fleet and I could not free myself of it now. ‘Kitty…’

Her eyes widened. ‘Don’t you dare.’

Quietly, stealthily, Sam drifted upstairs to hide.

I reached out to touch Kitty’s shoulder.

She pulled away. ‘You promised. You don’t even remember, do you?’

‘Of course I remember,’ I lied. ‘It’s just that I have an appointment tonight. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s important.’

‘More important than me?’

Well there was a question not to be answered.

Kitty turned away so that I couldn’t see the disappointment in her eyes. She began to shuffle the books upon the shelf. ‘Who is it you’re meeting?’

I searched for an answer that wouldn’t create more trouble, but what could I say? I was drunk and bored, so I told the most dangerous villain in London I might work for him. ‘I’ll take you another night. I promise-’

‘I don’t give a damn about the theatre!’ she cried, gripping my shirt so hard I thought she’d tear it. ‘What’s the matter, Tom? Why are you acting in such a strange, sneaking fashion? Tell me! Where are you going?’

‘For pity’s sake!’ I snapped back. ‘Would you stop all this nagging. You’re not my wife, damn it.’

She flinched and drew back, as if I’d slapped her.

I hadn’t meant to hurt her – only to stop her questions. The words had flown from my lips without thought. But they were mean, and the message behind them was cruel. That we were not bound together after all. That I might abandon her whenever I chose – broken-hearted and ruined. ‘Oh, Kitty,’ I groaned, reaching out for her.

She hugged her arms across her chest, stepped beyond my grasp. ‘No. It’s true,’ she said, cool and remote. ‘I’m not your wife. And you are free to do you as please.’

With that she stalked silently from the room.

Kitty left for the theatre an hour later, too angry even to call a goodbye. She took Sam with her in my place.

I sighed and trudged slowly up the stairs to change. I knew nothing about the woman I was to meet tonight, except that she was a courtier, afraid and desperate enough to seek James Fleet’s help. I selected a black silk coat and breeches, and a red waistcoat. Sober, dependable, with a military dash. That would do well enough. I tied my cravat with a flourish, gathered my hat and cane from the hallway, and stepped out into the night.

A couple of young rakes and their companions were sauntering down Russell Street, away from the Garden. I recognised one of the girls. She winked at me as they passed. That young fool with his arm about her waist would most likely find his purse missing in the morning. But for now they were a merry bunch. I stood in the middle of the street, tempted to slip into their wake. That way lay Lincoln’s Inn Fields, the theatre, Kitty and the Eliots. I could still go to them – forget all about my secret assignation. James Fleet could always find another gent –