Page 18 of The Worst of Them

She folded her arms tightly over her middle. “A truce? So far into this lovely conversation?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, all the better company is otherwise engaged. If you’re not going anywhere, you might as well be useful and tell me what I want to know.”

The others were beginning to move in ways that bordered on obscene, their faces flushed and eyes heavy-lidded with alcohol and delight. Cecily and Jack were the only two not partaking, save for the captain and a few older pirates.

She stared at the coin. Two more minutes next to him seemed like an eternity, but she would do it for the money—and he knew it. She plucked it from his fingers. “Go ahead.”

He nodded to the pirates. “Greyson,” he said, and Cecily picked out his bald head on the edge of the throng, dancing with Hester. “Who’s the girl with him? The blonde one. Built like a house.”

“That’s unkind,” Cecily said.

“I’m not insulting her. I’m ensuring we’re talking about the same person.”

“She’s a butcher’s daughter. You’d look like that too if you spent years slinging dead cows over your shoulders.”

He huffed. “A minute and a half, Cecily. Lord.”

She couldn’t ignore her satisfaction at his annoyance as she ate up the time in their truce. Nevertheless, she said, “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“He’s calling her his wife. Who is she?”

“Hester,” she said, “is my only friend in the world. She’s kind, perhaps too much so. She’s a widow, but I don’t believe she had any fondness for her previous husband.”

His eyes squeezed with concern for his friend. “Is she a murderess?”

“No, he succumbed to an illness,” she said, even though she doubted it was the truth. She wouldn’t give anyone a reason to think poorly of Hester—especially not Jack. She nodded to Greyson. “Will he treat her well?”

“Too well,” he said. “I don’t want him hurt.”

His worry might have been sweet without the threat in his tone.

“Hester won’t hurt him,” Cecily insisted. “She’s mad about him already.” She turned the coin over in her fingers. “Forty-five seconds. What else?”

“What was she in for?”

“Theft. You swear she’ll be safe with him?”

“Yes.” He nodded to where Morgyn had curled herself around a burly man, his hands wandering over every inch of her body. “What about that one?”

Cecily scowled. “Morgyn. If you should’ve left anyone behind, it’s her.”

“What’d she do?”

“Fraud. She had at least twelve identities through England. Pretended to be an aristocrat’s daughter and tricked families into giving her food and money. She lived with a couple of them and had all these grand ideas for pretending to be the queen’s sister when we reached the Americas.” It was a clever plan, and she’d always thought so. Despite her hatred, she wasn’t above admiring the skill such feats of fraud required.

“What about the others?” he asked.

She shook her head, biting back her snarky grin. “I think your time’s up, Jack.”

He didn’t argue. He merely rummaged in his pocket to withdraw another coin, which he dropped into her waiting hand. “Tell me about the others.”

“Liars, thieves, and frauds,” she said. “No worse or better than that—worse were hung, better never left England.”

“Anyone we should be concerned about?”

“I hate Morgyn the most. I love Hester the best. Everyone else falls between them.”

“What does Hester think of Morgyn?”