Sequel to A Fair Trade
Dennis Must, otherwise known as Sheba the Molly in the rough and tumble of Georgian London’s Covent Garden, has recently escaped immediate danger and gained a love interest in lawyer Valentine Lee. But the risks of his profession and threats of another kind of threat lurk as he and Valentine try to unravel the schemes of a dangerous foe.
Can Sheba and Valentine avoid becoming the next target of their mysterious and ruthless enemy?
Valentine had never complained or upbraided me for continuing my trade during our association. Although I acknowledged our mutual respect, sometimes, more often than I would like to admit, I wondered if he simply didn’t care enough.
Jim had asked Bonnie to give up mollying, once they had fallen in love.
I’d had brief flings who showed more jealousy than Valentine had ever displayed. And yet, Valentine continued to pursue our affair.
Is it possible to hold two directly opposing views at one time?
I felt like I would be ripped apart by the force of my conflicted feelings.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, Valentine studied me before asking, “Do you remember when we first met? When despite my assurances, you were convinced I was a constable?”
My assumption seemed laughable now. To mistake cerebral, shrewd Valentine for a ham-fisted officer.
“Do you still hold that view?”
I found my voice.
“No.”
“What changed your mind?”
Valentine challenged me with his gaze.
“I’ve learned differently. You might work with magistrates, like a constable, but your role is quite separate. Constables enforce the law by force. You are part of the inner mechanism.”
Valentine sat back in his chair as though I had proved his point.
“Quite so.” His expression softened. “Sheba, in my working life, I might be required to categorise endlessly, but that has never extended to our connection. From our first encounter, where you bristled at me with suspicion, I was struck by your intelligence and your integrity.”
I rubbed the side of my nose, conscious of how I had lied to Valentine, albeit for reasons of self-preservation.
“I don’t have strong feelings about how you choose to use your body, because for you, it’s a calculated transaction.”
He looked at me steadily.
“It’s how you earn your independence, save for a better future, and improve your circumstances. How could I object to such worthy aims?”
I needed no reminder that my steadily increasing savings were safely stored in the trunk in Valentine’s spare room at Clerkenwell.
“I admire your ambition and tenacity.” He hesitated, glancing down as his desk before he said, almost shyly, “I hope I am able to separate what we have together against how you perform for those who buy your favours. They merely have access to your body. A mere fraction of what you are. I am privileged that you share so much more with me. The workings of your mind, your thoughts and feelings, perhaps even your heart. Thus, I have concluded that I have no cause for jealousy.”
I was dumbstruck.
I know. That’s a cause for consternation in itself.
It wasn’t so much that Valentine had dissected his emotions like a barber surgeon lancing a boil, and explained his arguments so coherently. More that he had proved, with cool reasoning, that he cared for me more than I could ever have imagined.
A rap at the door jolted us both.
“One moment, please,” Valentine said sharply.
The calm atmosphere of this book lined room, designed for the dry workings of the law seemed to vibrate with turbulent emotion.
I was caught off-guard.
Our discourse shouldn’t have taken place here. I might have incited matters but I had no idea that our heated discussion would culminate in soul-baring.
I should have bided my time, waited until we were alone at Valentine’s home where we could talk, love and argue privately.
I never know when to keep my bloody great trap shut.
Valentine looked as agitated as I had ever seen him. He took a deep breath.
“We will discuss this further,” he promised. “I am determined to convince you of my profound and lasting regard.”
I nodded stiffly and cleared my throat.
“Very well.”
I turned away swiftly, so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.
