The Misbegotten by Katherine Webb Read Free Book Online Page B

that man there, the tall one with only one eye? You ever seen him before?’ She pointed out an ill-favoured man with a gaunt, sour face and a leather patch over his missing eye. His greasy hair was salt and pepper, and hadn’t been combed in a while.
    ‘No, I never saw him. He’s wearing a fine enough pair of boots, though. Why do you point him out?’
    ‘He says he’s loved me a long time, and watched me from afar. He says if I meet him in the yard afterwards, he’ll make me an offer I can’t refuse.’ Sadie chuckled, and Starling rolled her eyes.
    ‘He’ll make you his whore, and thrash you if you refuse.’
    ‘Aye, most likely. Perhaps I’ll meet him though.’ The plump girl shrugged. ‘He might be as good as his word. Those are fine boots . . . maybe he’s rich, and soft-hearted, and will marry me and give me a life of idleness.’
    ‘Maybe. And maybe I shall marry King George next Wednesday at noon. If you meet with him have Jonah watch you, for heaven’s sake. And keep your wits about you.’ Jonah was the stable boy at the Moor’s Head, a hulking lad of sixteen years, quite in love with Sadie. ‘Is Dick about?’
    ‘Dick Weekes? Not yet. Stay and talk a while, till he gets here.’
    Richard Weekes came in not long afterwards, looking as dandy as he ever did, all loose hair and smiles. Sadie nudged Starling and nodded towards him, and Starling took her leave, planting a kiss on Sadie’s fat cheek. She waited until Richard had shrugged off his coat in the heat of the inn, then pressed a brimming tankard into his right hand as she clasped his left and pressed it to her chest. She smiled a wicked smile at him, the way he liked.
    ‘How do you do, Mr Weekes?’ she said.
    ‘Dying of thirst, but otherwise well. Leave off a moment, then, and let me drink.’ He smiled.
    ‘Leave off, he says! Why, you will break my heart, talking that way,’ she said mockingly.
    ‘Your heart?’ Richard laughed. ‘A thousand men with a thousand cudgels couldn’t break your heart, Starling no-name.’ Starling leaned closer to his ear, standing on her toes.
    ‘Not a thousand but just one, and just one cudgel too.’ She let her hand brush over his crotch, and felt his prick stir in response.
    ‘You’re eager tonight, aren’t you?’
    ‘I can’t stay out for long. Dorcas has taken to getting up after midnight to drink milk. She says she has nightmares – comes clattering around the pantry like a blind heifer. She’d love to find me out, and run to tell Mrs Hatton. How my dissipation would scandalise.’ Starling shook her head in irritation. ‘So, come, Mr Weekes. Take me somewhere quieter, if you please.’
    ‘It would be my pleasure. Just let me drink this at least. I meant it when I said I was dying of thirst.’
    ‘Can’t we go to your rooms?’ Starling suggested. Dick had brought her out through the back door, to the yard behind the pub, and was trying to usher her up the ladder into the hay loft above the stables.
    ‘No. Not any more.’ Dick put his arm around her shoulders, and squeezed her left breast too hard. Starling twisted away and slapped his cheek. ‘Tease,’ he scolded her.
    ‘Clumsy joskins,’ she retorted. ‘That hurt. What do you mean, not any more?’
    ‘In two days’ time I shall be married. I can hardly bring my new bride to a bed that’s ripe with your stink, can I?’ he said lightly.
    ‘I’m surprised to hear you’d take a wife so squeamish,’ said Starling. She swallowed against a sudden tightness in her throat. Somehow, she’d thought all Dick’s talk of marriage would come to nothing this time, as it had several times before. He usually backed away in the end, finding some fault in the girl; tiring of her, or declaring that he could do better. ‘Don’t you think she might smell me elsewhere – on your flesh, perhaps?’
    ‘Rachel Crofton is sweet, and innocent. She suspects nothing of the kind.’
    ‘Not yet, perhaps . . .’
    ‘Not ever. And if she