Rebecca Wentworth's Distraction Read Online Free PDF

if they were friendly acquaintances assessing the comforts and possibilities of their circumstances. There was a considerable hubbub of laughter and coarse talk and gesture. He rather liked the feeling of the place.
    The serving woman arrived, placed a mug before Sanborn and a full pitcher between the men, took his coin, and left behind a scent of stale perspiration and something else. Sour bed linen? He couldn’t quite identify it. He looked after the woman as she left, and his table companion snickered in a knowing manner.
    â€œNot as sweet as some, mind you,” he said, “but a good rough go for all that.”
    They laughed companionably.
    â€œDaniel Sanborn, sir, and happy to make your acquaintance.” He stuck out his hand.
    â€œJeremy Weeks,” his companion said. “A pleasure, Mr. Sanborn. New to the port?”
    â€œIndeed, Mr. Weeks. Is it so plain?” They smiled at one another. “I’ve been here but four days and have taken a room at Mrs. McCullough’s. I toured the wharves just now. Boston does not put you to shame.”
    â€œYou’re from Boston then?”
    â€œYes, recently. From London just several months now.”
    â€œIn the shipping trade?”
    â€œNo. I’m a traveler, sir. Looking to settle. I’m a painter of portraits.”
    â€œPortraits is it? Well that’s a scheme.”
    â€œAnd yourself, sir?”
    â€œI keep certain of the account books for the customs house, trying to keep my betters honest.” He grinned. “Before that, many years as a third mate. West Indies trade.” He grew wistful. “I’ve spent my life in the middle.”
    Sanborn raised his mug. “To the eternal middle,” he said. “It cannot be an easy task, that.”
    â€œScrutinizing my betters?” He laughed. “Not so easy, sir. But I know most of the tricks, have helped more than one ship’s master in my former years ‘exercise his prerogative,’ as we used to say. But now I keep an eye after the king’s business. There’s no respite for such as me, what with illegal timber operations and dodging customs’ duties the most common paths to quick wealth hereabouts.”
    â€œPerhaps the new governor will put an end to it once he returns from London.”
    â€œPerhaps.” Weeks considered and took a long tug on his pipe. “He’s an eye for quick wealth himself, I’d say. But he’ll never be the prey of such as Jeremy Weeks. I fish a smaller pool.”
    For whatever reason the crowd was beginning to thin out. Weeks and Sanborn enjoyed another mug each. Sanborn asked any number of questions about the town and Weeks obliged him. Would he still have to advertise in the Boston newspapers? (He would.) The best cheap eating establishments. The scuttlebutt and reputations among the town folk of certain families and officials. The presence, or lack, of other limners. If Weeks were to be believed, Sanborn would not have much competition. There were few limners who passed through, and none to match his training and skill. He would succeed here; he felt more confident than ever.
    A woman came in from another room, an obvious jade. She looked about and finally caught Sanborn’s eye. Black haired, brightly dressed, and full-fleshed yet hard-looking, she smiled knowingly at him just as another man stepped to her side and began to speak to her as if he were an old friend.
    â€œThat’s Gingher,” Weeks said and laughed. “Not named for her hair, as you can see. But plenty of spice there, if you’ve a taste for it.”
    Sanborn had looked away so as not to appear overly interested in her, but she had indeed caught his eye. Young, vigorous, unmarried, he had known his share of jades.
    â€œAnd do you recommend her spice trade, Mr. Weeks?”
    Weeks laughed. “I can’t say, but there’s others who would. I don’t think she’ll disappoint.”