The Smuggler's Wife by Evie Grace

Author:Evie Grace [Grace, Evie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473573574
Publisher: Random House

Chapter Thirteen

The Year Without a Summer, 1816

Aggie was two months old. Musket had wearied of giving her predatory looks whenever she cried and Grace had made one of the guest rooms into a nursery. The cellar was empty but for a single barrel of ale and the brewery had failed to make a delivery for three weeks.

If Isaiah had agreed to work for George, there was no evidence of it, apart from the fact that he spent much of his time away from the tavern. Grace had learned not to ask him too many questions, but she feared the worst. What else was he doing in Deal where most of the shops were shuttered and the businesses closed, and a desperation had crept into the cries of the fishwives?

It was Sarah’s day off and Grace was in the kitchen boiling up some stock when Isaiah appeared, having been out for the morning. He stepped up beside her, took one of the cod heads from the pot and tossed it to the three cats that were waiting in hope. Mewling and hissing, they fought over it, one escaping with the prize.

He didn’t kiss her, she noticed. He hadn’t shown her any affection for some time, his interest in her in ‘that way’ having waned since Aggie was born. She didn’t blame him – they were constantly on edge, being in hock to the brewery, the butcher and the baker, as well as George. Forsooth, she felt that there was hardly anyone in Deal to whom they didn’t owe money.

Their situation had aged him: he had dark circles under his eyes, hollow cheeks and a salting of silver hairs at his temples.

‘I was under the impression that the gen’leman who took a room last night was extendin’ ’is visit by a sennight.’

‘He was recuperating from a brief illness and came to Deal to spend some time beside the sea, according to his doctor’s orders. Unfortunately, he said the mattress was lumpy and the tavern too noisy for a convalescent.’

‘Why didn’t you use your charms to persuade him to stay?’

‘I did try,’ she argued, stung by his criticism.

‘Not hard enough, obviously.’

‘Please, stop harrumphing at me like that.’

‘’Arrumphin’? What kind of talk is that?’ Despite their problems, he started to chuckle.

‘You’re laughing at me now.’

He slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, but that tickled me. Grace, I want to laugh with you, not at you, but you don’t smile any more, not like you used to.’

‘That’s because nothing that I do is ever good enough for you. I can’t do right for doing wrong and it’s breaking my heart. Do you not desire me any more?’ she asked sadly.

‘I still ’ave a strong fancy for you, but I ’ave a lot on my mind. I ’ave a feelin’ we’re in for more stormy weather.’

‘I believe it’s set fair for at least a sennight.’

‘I mean, metaphorically speakin’. You know, I don’t think anybody could ’ave worked harder at not doing somethin’ than I ’ave.

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