Page 1 of Juliet's Touch

Prologue

The Pink Petal, June 1796

EricStonesnuggledagainsthis mother as he fingered her silky black strands. The wig was pretty, but he preferred her real hair because whenever she wore her costumesfor the nasty men who invaded her chamber, he had to go away.

“Momma, take it off. Please,” he begged.

“Darling, you know I have to work, although I’d rather spend all my time with you.” She tickled his belly until they both giggled. If only these happy moments lasted forever.

Sighing, she composed herself. “Time to go to the kitchen, my darling boy.”

Eric crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his bottom lip. “I want to stay with you.” Her bed was large and soft and covered with fluffy pillows. Velvet draperies kept out the light, making it easy to curl up beside her and drift off to sleep. The very best thing about being in her chamber was that she was kind and smelled like flowers.

Staring into his eyes, she caressed his cheek. “But Mrs. Paulson baked biscuits today.”

Eric’s mouth watered whilst he reconsidered his response. “No,” he finally said. “I would rather stay with you.”

A tear dripped down his mother’s cheek. She dabbed at it, smearing the dark lines decorating her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

She sniffled. “I’m not.”

Eric double-checked. Her eyes and cheeks were definitely wet. She was probably unhappy because she didn’t want the men to visit her either. Some of them were missing teeth. A few of them smelled like chamber pots. Although there was a chance she was upset because he was being difficult.

His mother gently nudged him off her lap. “You go on. Mrs. Paulson is expecting you. She’ll be sad if you don’t arrive on time.”

He certainly didn’t want both Mrs. Paulson and his mother to cry. Frowning, he marched to the door.

“That’s my big boy,” she said. “You behave and mind Mrs. Paulson, and tomorrow we’ll go to the park with the fountain and sweet ices.”

Since he was trying to behave like a big boy, he didn’t jump up and downlike an excited four-year-old.He fiddled with the latch, then pushed all of his body weight into the door.

“I love you, Eric,” his mother called.

As he struggled to manage the heavy door, a man with a black mustache and thick sideburns pushed past him.

“Cleopatra, are you ready for Marc Antony’s hard maypole?” The man grabbed his privates.

Eric had no idea what the man was talking about, but he didn’t like the way he said it. Only rude boys grabbed themselves in public. Also, people had five fingers on each hand, and this man only had three. The rope looped over the man’s shoulder also gave Eric pause. Did he mean to climb out the window? If so, to what purpose?

Eric considered storming back into the chamber and punching the unwelcome visitor, but then his mother might not take him to the park. Deciding on biscuits tonight and sweet ices tomorrow, he jumped out of the way, letting the door slam.

With shoulders sagging, Eric followed the rules and stuck to the back staircase. He didn’t mind not being allowed in certain parts of Auntie Athena’s big house because then he avoided the awful men who visited the ladies.

Flynn Collins stood in front of the kitchen door. “Halloo, laddie. How are ye this fine night?”

Eric shrugged. “Momma said Mrs. Paulson baked biscuits.”

Flynn licked his lips. “Aye, she did. And they’re delicious.” He squatted to look into Eric’s eyes. “Why so crestfallen, lad?”

Eric probably shouldn’t talk about his feelings, and yet, Flynn was the closest thing to a friend he had. He wagered the blokewasn’t much older than some of the girls, yet he protected them as if he were a full-grown man.

“I don’t like the man with my momma,” he whispered as he stared at his feet.

Flynn patted Eric’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, laddie. I know some of these men are right horses’ arses. Most are sewer rats spending the last of their blunt. But yer momma is a smart lass, she is. She’ll be fine. I’ll check in on her in an hour or so. How’s that?”

Eric nodded.