The middle sister smiled, two of her front teeth missing. “The physician enjoys the tawdry fruits of the island.”
Claire frowned. Were they referring to Devon? If only she had come from the north side of town, she would have been spared from meeting the sisters and this frivolous conversation. “I’m sure, I do not know what you are suggesting.” She attempted to move forward but the third sister equally grotesque pointed with her black parasol.
“Take a look at the physician. Just like an animal, tossing with that whore and in broad daylight. I think I’ll inform Sir Jarvis. He should give him double lashes even triple to teach him proper behavior for the respectable people of Port Royale. And on a boat no less. We can’t have this kind of shenanigans going on in our community.”
Claire sat in full view of the erotic display. She held her head up, tears forming in her eyes, turning to rage. She swore beneath her breath and kicked her mare into motion.
Devon shoved Anne off, holding her at arm’s length. He stood, adjusting his coat, keeping a wide berth between them. “Surely, now that’s thanks enough.” He was angry with the whore, for she could put his entire escape at risk. He looked around. Not many were about and others were too busy with their labors to give notice. His fury faded. It was impossible to get really angry with her, exasperating as her behavior persisted. Did she not unwittingly bring him good fortune to buy his freedom?
Anne laughed and hauled herself up. “I would hope to thank you more. But to tell you the truth, I was beginning to think of you as a eunuch, with no woman on the island to entertain a man with your, how may I say−treasures. I feared they were laid to waste.”
Devon roared with laughter. “Anne, you do amuse me. I am a man with my hat set for all but one.”
“Who is she?” Anne tempted, her provocative smile concealed a flash of jealousy.
Devon cursed. His loose tongue trumpeted a dangerous slip to a woman like Anne, her brothel a harbinger of gossip. To reveal anything about his and Claire’s relationship would destroy Claire not to mention a certain death to a slave. He pinched Anne on the cheek. “For me, a slave, the only tender woman offered me is mother earth. Now off with ye, fair lady.” He escorted her to the plank, slapped her on the rump to hurry her along and bid her fair well.
“Oh Devon,” Anne protested sulkily, and to his secret relief, she flounced away, her full hips swinging provocatively beneath their covering of full scarlet skirts.
“My, oh, my.” Dooley scratched his head. Anne expected them to watch her go, and, watching, to lust. Devon blew out his breath for Anne was a smart one. A season of life bred on the streets of London enhanced her education. To see her depart, properly cajoled, stood a testament to his patience or miracle from his maker.
All was ready. The wherry prepared and crew to sail it. The day was to be his last in Port Royale, a day of hope and full of promise, yet weighted with anxiety. What pained him the most was the thought of leaving Claire and that fact, rested heavy in his heart. The journey to the Lesser Antilles lay far too dangerous.
Near sundown, he had the last reports from Dooley revealing all remained well at a prearranged mooring. On his way to the Governor’s House, Devon passed the slaves driven from their labors in the fields. He let them pass, but each man who was designated to go followed him with a bare nod, a message of hope communicated to them.
Claire had no appetite. After witnessing the outrageous public display between Devon and Anne Jensen, her stomach roiled with disgust. Most of her anger she directed at herself for she had no more sense than the dull-witted hen-twit, Maybelle Merriweather and other rumored island ladies who crooned over him.
All day, she had worked to get the blackguard out of her mind. She had baited him, even encouraged him. She needed to remember more than yesterday, her confrontation with Jarvis, feeding him an explanation as to why she and Lily were at the artist’s hut. She needed to remember what had come before, in all the days they spent together, and what he had done to her. He had seduced her with a lie, always goading her with the debt she owed him. He preyed on her honor to pay that debt, taunting her with her lack of womanhood. She fell to his seduction, becoming an easy conquest. What a fool she had been to allow such intimacies. Claire stomped up the steps and found Lily in her room.
“That blackguard. That devil. He cavorts with all kinds of women and here I−” Claire collapsed on the bed. “And to think I threw myself at him and he, laughing at me behind my back.”
“What are you talking about?” Lily came to her side…and then her eyes lit, her cheeks taking on high color. “Oh−”
“Devon. I saw him with that harlot, Anne Jensen doing all kinds of disgusting things on a boat in the harbor. I am a fool to have been taken in by that loathsome, lowest, vilest excuse for a man. The roaming stud deserves the fate of a shipwrecked tar on a deserted island.”
“There has to be more to the story. I do not feel he is like that at all. He is well respected. I believe he is honorable as is Robert Ames. Robert Ames would never do anything of the like.” Then Lily sat straight up. “A boat in the harbor? What could that mean?”
The door slammed against the wall. “What’s this about Ames you say?” demanded Jarvis, breaking into the room.
“Nothing,” Lily paled.
“I see it in your eyes, Lily. Tell me, or there will be repercussions.” Trembling, Lily stood mute.
Claire saw the hatred grow in her uncle’s eyes from Lily’s defiance. How long had he been listening? She wiped her eyes and moved between them. She could withstand her uncle’s abuse, but not Lily. “I was making a little joke about a slave, you see. He worked in the hospital during the epidemic,” Claire offered, but the explanation was pathetic.
“There’s something more at play here. Fess up.” His beady eyes narrowed.
As much as she hated Devon she would not wish her uncle’s wrath upon him. “There is nothing, Uncle Jarvis...really.”
He slapped her. “There is much more to this story. I heard you say boats and harbor. Is there an escape hatching beneath my very nose?”
Both Claire and Lily remained silent, too stunned to think of that revelation.
“Since neither of you will answer me, I’ll be forced to get it out of Ames’s hide. He’ll crack soon enough.” Jarvis turned and slammed the door.
“Claire!” Lily wailed. “What have I done? His cruelty is merciless. He’ll kill Robert.”
“Do not blame yourself, Lily. It is my fault. I should never have been so careless to speak when Jarvis was present. My anger has wrought this destruction.”
