Lennox nodded. He more than anyone wanted to see the coal heavers defeated. “Well, Caspar Gordonson must know.”
Jay shook his head. “That’s no use to us. Does McAsh have a woman?”
“Yes—Cora. But she’s as tough as a boot. She won’t tell.”
“There must be someone else.”
“There’s the kid,” Lennox said thoughtfully.
“Kid?”
“Quick Peg. She goes robbing with Cora. I wonder …”
At midnight Lord Archer’s coffeehouse was packed with officers, gentlemen and whores. The air was full of tobacco smoke and the smell of spilled wine. A fiddler was playing in a corner but he could hardly be heard over the roar of a hundred shouted conversations.
Several card games were in progress, but Jay was not playing. He was drinking. The idea was for him to pretend to be drunk, and at first he had tipped most of his brandy down the front of his waistcoat; but as the evening wore on he drank more, and now he did not have to make much effort to appear unsteady on his feet. Chip Marlborough had been drinking seriously from the start of the evening, but he never seemed to get drunk.
Jay was too worried to enjoy himself. His father would never listen to excuses. Jay had to produce an address for McAsh. He had toyed with the idea of making one up, then claiming McAsh must have moved again; but he felt his father would know he was lying.
So he was drinking in Archer’s and hoping to meet Cora. During the course of the evening numerous girls had approached him, but none fitted the description of Cora: pretty face, flaming red hair, age about nineteen or twenty. Each time, he and Chip would flirt for a while, until the girl realized they were not serious and moved on. Sidney Lennox was a watchful presence on the far side of the room, smoking a pipe and playing faro for low stakes.
Jay was beginning to think they would be unlucky tonight. There were a hundred girls like Cora in Covent Garden. He might have to repeat this performance tomorrow, and even the day after, before running into her. And he had a wife waiting at home who did not understand why he needed to spend the evening in a place where respectable ladies were not seen.
Just as he was thinking wistfully of climbing into a warm bed and finding Lizzie there, eager and waiting, Cora came in.
Jay was sure it was she. She was easily the prettiest girl in the room, and her hair really was the color of the flames in the fireplace. She was dressed like a whore in a red silk dress with a low neckline and red shoes with bows, and she scanned the room with a professional gaze.
Jay looked over at Lennox and saw him nod slowly twice.
Thank God, he thought.
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.”
“I can’t write that down,” Sir George snapped. “What is your real name, child?”