The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin

he would return to London to take up his duties as marquess of Belford, and Grace Chastain would face judgment for what she had done. In the meantime, he had his own personal score to settle with Grace, one that required a different sort of mission than the one he was currently involved in with Max.

      Walking down High Street, he surveyed the row of shops along the lane, Dalton’s Meat Market, Emory’s Bakery, a hatmaker’s shop with the sign, Blue Bonnet, on the other side of the street. At last he spotted the dressmaker’s abode, The Apparel Shop. Ethan strode in that direction.

      The bell rang above the door as he stepped up to the counter in the tiny receiving room and a buxom woman with too much rouge on her cheeks waddled out to greet him.

      “Good morning, sir. How might I be of service?”

      “I’m looking to outfit a lady. Her trunk was lost and she has only the dress she was wearing. I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

      “Well, of course. If you bring the lady in, we can have her outfitted in no time. In a couple of weeks—”

      “I’m afraid that won’t do. We’re sailing this afternoon. I need the dresses by then.”

      The pink circles in her cheeks turned a bright rose. “Why, that’s impossible! I couldn’t possibly fashion even a single gown in such a short time.”

      “I realize it’s a good deal to ask, but I’m willing to pay for the inconvenience. I’ll give you double what you usually charge.”

      “It isn’t a matter of money, Mr…?”

      “Captain Sharpe. My ship, Sea Devil, is anchored just offshore.” He still wasn’t used to using his title, marquess of Belford, though it occurred to him it might come in handy right now.

      “Well, Captain Sharpe, such a sum would certainly be useful…” She cast a glance toward the curtained room be hind her. “I’m sure the lady must be frantic, without even a change of clothes.”

      “She is quite unhappy about it, as you have rightly guessed.” He held his hand up to demonstrate Grace’s height. “The lady is fairly tall, about this high, and slender—except for her breasts.”

      The dressmaker blushed, making the pink circles brighten again. She smiled knowingly. “I see. Well, I sup pose any sort of clothing would be better than doing with out.” She leaned over the counter, shoving her pendulous bosom nearly out of the top of her gown.

      “I sew for an assortment of different patrons,” she said confidentially. “There is a lady of the evening who purchased a number of items several months back, but ran short of the funds necessary to pay for them.”

      A lady of the evening. A hard smile curved his lips. Grace was Jeffries’s mistress. It seemed perfectly fitting.

      “The gowns won’t be exactly her size, but with a little alteration, she might make do.”

      “I’ll take them.”

      He sat down on a damask-covered settee to wait until his purchases could be readied, and a few minutes later, the dressmaker pushed back through the curtains and walked in carrying a stack of boxes. Ethan paid the bill, noting the double amount as he stacked the boxes against his chest.

      “It’s been a pleasure,” she beamed at him. “Do come back any time, Captain.”

      “I’ll do that.” Though he doubted he would ever again have use for the clothes of a whore.

      It was late afternoon by the time the crew had finished transporting fresh kegs of water, salted herring, ale and myriad other foodstuffs back aboard the ship. Ethan was tired but eager to get there. Eager to see what Grace’s reaction would be to the clothes he had brought her.

      Thinking of the red satin gown trimmed with black lace he had glimpsed in one of the boxes, somehow he didn’t think the bargain he’d had in mind was going to be as easy to strike as he had hoped.

      Five

      Grace paced the cabin. Twice she had left the room and climbed the ladder to the deck, only to find the weathered old Scot, the captain’s first mate, Angus McShane, standing at the rail. Each time he had looked at her and simply shook his head.

      “Sorry, lass. Capt’n says yer ta stay below in his cabin.”

      “And no one dares to disobey the captain’s commands, is that right?”

      “Aye, lass. No’ unless he wants ta wear a set o’ strips across his back.”

      Grace turned around and marched back down to the cabin, slammed the door, and sat there silently seething. This constant confinement was driving her mad. If she didn’t get out of the cabin soon, she couldn’t be held accountable for her actions.

      It was another hour later, the afternoon fading, when the cabin door swung open and the captain strode in. She tried to ignore the way his presence filled the room, the way her heart started to clatter the moment she saw him. He set the stack of boxes he carried down on top of the bed.

      “This was the best I could do. They’ll probably take a little alteration, but I imagine you can manage.”

      “You brought me some clothes?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, thank God.”

      “I’ve a couple of things to see to. I’ll be back a little later.” He left her with the clothes and she hurried over to lift off the lids.

      The first box held several white lawn chemises. The woman who wore them must have been taller for when she held them up, they barely covered her breasts. But she could shorten the straps without a problem. Odd though, once she did, they would barely cover her behind. There were long black gloves in the box and a red feather boa, along with several pairs of lacy garters. One set was black, the other red. She frowned. She had never seen garters those colors before.

      She took the lid off the box underneath. A swatch of scarlet satin glowed up at her. She caught a handful of fabric and lifted it out of the box, saw that it was a gown fashioned of red satin with small black satin sleeves and black piping.

      It was the ugliest, gaudiest gown she had ever seen.

      Grace tossed it onto the bed and opened the next box. There were two gowns inside, one of sapphire silk edged with black lace, the other of orange crepe also edged in black. There were hideous little orange puffed sleeves and when she held it up, she saw that the scalloped bodice was so low it would expose the edge of her nipples.

      Grace shrieked in outrage. How dare he! She tossed the orange gown on the floor and stomped on it, twisted it beneath her feet. She picked it up and started tearing out the silly looking sleeves, her satisfaction growing at the sound of the ripping fabric.

      He had bought her the clothes of a whore!

      She would die before she would wear them!

      “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

      She marched toward him, shoved the orange dress under his nose. “These might be the fashion for the other women of your acquaintance, but they do not suit me!” Reaching for the opposite sleeve, she brutally ripped it out of the arm hole and tossed it in his face. When she reached for the neckline, the captain caught her arm.

      “I told you these were the best I could do. It cost me a bloody fortune to get them for you.”

      “These are the clothes of a whore. Find someone else to wear them.” She caught the neckline between her fingers and started ripping the bodice of the dress in two.

      “Put it down.”

      “I’ll be happy to put it down.” She tossed it onto the floor, stomped on it several times, then marched over and grabbed the red-and-black satin.

      “You rip that dress and I swear you will wish you hadn’t.”

      She gave him a vicious smile. “Oh, I think not. I think I will be extremely glad to