Kisses and Scandal (A Survivors Series Anthology ) - Shana Galen Page 0,68
chest and the other holding Bridget’s hand. It was a bit chilly on the deck, but they’d all huddle together and be warm enough under their blankets.
Bridget rose and went to the railing, and after another long look at his son, Caleb followed. “I can hardly believe he’s mine. I don’t know what I did to deserve so much good fortune.”
“We’re both fortunate,” she said, leaning against him. “Fortunate to have found each other again, fortunate to have found Jimmy.”
“Fortunate to be starting a new life. Are you sorry to leave London behind?”
“A little. Are you?”
“Not in the least. You’re my home, Bridget, and I’ll be happy wherever you are.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, and indeed, he was home.
If you enjoyed Counterfeit Scandal, read the book where Jimmy is first introduced.
How to Brew a Perfect Kiss
One
Thomas Gaines was in a hurry. The hackney he’d hailed at his home in Cheapside with plenty of time to spare had been caught behind a line of carts and other hackneys waiting for an overturned carriage to be righted and cleared from the busy London street.
In the hackney, Thomas had fumed. He fumed now as he took long-legged strides down Bond Street, passing Madame LeMonde’s modiste shop, The Hungry Mind bookstore, and a boy who waved a copy of The Midnight Cryer in his face saying it had all the latest scandals for only a penny. Thomas declined.
He skirted around the crates stacked at the door of a shop, around the cluster of servants gossiping on the corner, shook his head at the apple seller calling out, “Apples! Get yer fresh apples!” Two children ran past, knocking into him. He put his hand on his pocket to keep it from being picked and stepped over a puddle of liquid dumped out of an upper window. He almost wished he hadn’t jumped out of the hackney early, but he could walk this last quarter mile faster than a vehicle could traverse the congested streets. Sometimes he missed Wapping.
Sometimes.
Today was the one day he absolutely must be on time. His shop on Bond Street had been open less than a week and today he would receive his first bulk shipment of coffee and tobacco. He knew what he had bought. Knew what it was worth, and he wanted to be certain that what was delivered was what he’d paid for. The merchants in Wapping knew him, but London was a different animal. They’d see a black man and think him ignorant and an easy mark. But Thomas was far from ignorant. In fact, when it came to coffee and tobacco, Thomas probably knew more than almost any other man in England.
His shop wasn’t yet open, so he entered through the back door. He didn’t need his key as his manager, Alfred, a trusted man he’d brought from Wapping, was already there and had the door unlocked. As soon as he entered, Thomas heard the men speaking.
“If that’s all then,” the delivery man was saying.
“That’s not all,” Thomas said, his deep voice cutting through the room and causing all three men to turn and look at him. Alfred nodded at him, but the two delivery men frowned.
“Who’s this, then?” the taller of the delivery men asked. Both men were tall and lanky. They didn’t have the kind of profession that lent itself to stoutness. The one who spoke wore a brown cap over his brown hair.
“This is Mr. Gaines,” Alfred said. “The owner of Bond Street Coffee & Tobacco.”
Both delivery men looked him up and down, probably not used to a black man owning a shop on Bond Street. Gaines wasn’t quite used to it either. But there were upwards of twenty thousand black men and women in London, and just like the rest of the populace, some were wealthy, others poor; some lived to serve and others to be served.
“A pleasure, Mr. Gaines,” the brown-capped delivery man said with a nod of his head. “We’ve finished unloading your goods. All we need is a signature and the payment.” He gestured to the paper Alfred held.
Gaines took it from him. “I’ll just have a look first.”
“Your man already approved it,” the other delivery man said. He wore a black cap dusty with soot.
“No one is paid until I approve it.” Thomas made his way to the large sacks holding the fragrant tobacco leaves. The scent was so familiar that he felt a rush of confidence. In Virginia he had been a slave