A Place Called Freedom (1995)

He looked away, caught Cora’s eye and smiled.

He saw a faint flash of recognition in her expression, as if she knew who he was; then she smiled back and came over.

Jay felt nervous and told himself that he only had to be charming. He had charmed a hundred women. He kissed her hand. She wore a heady perfume with sandalwood in it. “I thought I knew every beautiful woman in London, but I was wrong,” he said gallantly. “I’m Captain Jonathan and this is Captain Chip.” Jay had decided not to use his real name in case Mack had mentioned him to Cora. If she found out who he was she would be sure to smell a rat.

“I’m Cora,” she said, giving them a once-over look. “What a handsome pair. I can’t decide which captain I like best.”

Chip said: “My family is nobler than Jay’s.”

“But mine’s richer,” said Jay, and for some reason that made them both giggle.

“If you’re so rich, buy me a measure of brandy,” she said.

Jay waved at the waiter and offered her a seat.

She squeezed in between him and Chip on the bench. He smelled gin on her breath. He looked down at her shoulders and the swell of her breasts. He could not help comparing her with his wife. Lizzie was short but voluptuous, with wide hips and a deep bosom. Cora was taller and more slender, and her breasts looked to him like two apples lying side by side in a bowl.

Giving him a quizzical look she said: “Do I know you?”

He felt a stab of anxiety. Surely they had never met? “I don’t think so,” he said. If she recognized him the game would be up.

“You look familiar. I know I’ve never spoken to you, but I’ve seen you.”

“Now’s our chance to get to know one another,” he said with a desperate smile. He put his arm over the back of the seat and stroked her neck. She closed her eyes as if she were enjoying it, and Jay began to relax.

She was so convincing that he almost forgot she was pretending. She put a hand on his thigh, close to his crotch. He told himself not to enjoy this too much: he was supposed to be playacting. He wished he had not drunk so much. He might need his wits about him.

Her brandy came and she drank it in a gulp. “Come on, big boy,” she said. “We’d better get some air before you burst out of those breeches.”

Jay realized he had a visible erection, and he blushed.

Cora stood up and headed for the door, and Jay followed.

When they were outside she put her arm around his waist and led him along the colonnaded sidewalk of the Covent Garden piazza. He draped an arm over her shoulder, then worked his hand into the bosom of her dress and played with her nipple. She giggled and turned into an alley.

They embraced and kissed, and he squeezed both her breasts. He forgot all about Lennox and the plot: Cora was warm and willing and he wanted her. Her hands were all over him, undoing his waistcoat, rubbing his chest, and diving into his breeches. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and tried to lift her skirts up at the same time. He felt cold air on his belly.

From behind him there came a childish scream. Cora gave a start and pushed Jay away. She looked over his shoulder then turned as if to run, but Chip Marlborough appeared and grabbed her before she took the first step.

Jay turned around and saw Lennox struggling to keep hold of a screaming, scratching, wriggling child. As they struggled the child dropped several objects. In the starlight Jay recognized his own wallet and pocket watch, silk handkerchief and silver seal. She had been picking his pockets while he was kissing Cora. Even though he was expecting it he had felt nothing. But he had entered very fully into the part he was playing.

The child stopped struggling and Lennox said: “We’re taking you two before a magistrate. Picking pockets is a hanging offense.”

Jay looked around, half expecting Cora’s friends to come rushing to her defense; but no one had seen the scuffle in the alley.

Chip glanced at Jay’s crotch and said: “You can put your weapon away, Captain Jamisson—the battle is over.”

Most wealthy and powerful men were magistrates and Sir George Jamisson was no exception. Although he never held open court, he had the right to try cases at home. He could order offenders to be flogged, branded or imprisoned, and he had the power to commit more serious offenders to the Old Bailey for trial.

He was expecting Jay, so he had not gone to bed, but all the same he was irritable at having been kept up so late. “I expected you around ten o’clock,” he said grumpily when they all trooped into the drawing room of the Grosvenor Square house.

Cora, dragged in by Chip Marlborough with her hands tied, said: “So you were expecting us! This was all planned—you evil pigs.”

Sir George said: “Shut your mouth or I’ll have you flogged around the square before we begin.”

Cora seemed to believe him, for she said no more.

He drew paper toward him and dipped a pen in an inkwell. “Jay Jamisson, Esquire, is the prosecutor. He complains that his pocket was picked by …”

Lennox said: “She’s called Quick Peg, sir.”