The Officer's Desire

by Colleen French

  "And I've followed your words to the letter. I'm a good wife to George, I am. Ask him, he'll tell you. He always wanted to have children you know. The mistress she done give birth to seven dead'ins a'fore he tightened his breeches for good." She gave a nod of finality.

  Cassie stared at Molly, overcome by a strange sense of jealousy. Why was it that Molly was with child and not she? Was she barren? Her eyes misted at the thought and she turned away. "I'm happy for you, Molly. I truly am."

  "And look at you. You've been the talk of the town! First you marry the best-lookin' man in the colony and then you march off to blow holes through British bellies!" She tugged off her mob cap to scratch her head. "Good God a'mighty. What's left to accomplish in your old age?"

  Cassie studied Molly's plump face. Pregnancy gave her face a healthy glow, or was it George? "I'm not sure that I'll be returning to the line. Devon's awfully set against it." She toyed with her reticule. "I may just remain at Marshview until his enlistment's up. He's talking about returning to the plantation in a year, whether the war's still on or not. He thinks he ought to be home planting corn and wheat and shipping it to the army."

  "So is that why you came home, to stay for good?"

  "No. Nothing's been decided yet. We came home because Devon's sister Mary is missing. Been gone almost four months. They thought she'd been kidnapped but there was never a ransom note." Cassie stared suspiciously at the British soldiers now engaged in a game of whist. "Men such as that around here often?"

  Molly glanced over at the King's men. "They pass through. I keep feedin' 'em the worst meat in the house hopin' they'll take their business elsewhere." She turned back to Cassie. "But as for that sister of your man's . . . kidnapped my arse!" She made a disgusted sound, pulling her cap back over her mop of blond curls.

  "What do you know of her?" Cassie grasped Molly's arm. "Tell me."

  "You don't want to know, mark my words."

  "Please, Molly." she beseeched. "It's important to Devon . . . to me. I want to be able to do something for him, he's done so much for me."

  "You're not gonna like it." Molly shook her head dramatically.

  "Tell me." Cassie insisted. "Tell me now."

  "It's Rosemary you'll have to speak to, not me. My days of tellin' tales are over. I'm a respectable woman now, bein' a tavern owner and all."

  Cassie rolled her eyes heavenward. "Who is Rosemary? Please tell me what you know of Mary."

  "I'll get Rosemary and she can tell you. She's my new girl, just come from Annapolis a fortnight ago." Molly heaved herself up from the bench and started across the room. "She's the one that told me."

  A moment later, Molly returned from the back kitchen, a young maid of not more than sixteen trailing her. "This is Rosemary." Molly introduced. "Rosemary, Mistress O'Flynn." Molly eased herself back onto the bench, stroking her taut belly.

  "Afternoon, Mistress O'Flynn." The dark-haired serving girl bobbed a curtsy.

  "Tell Mistress O'Flynn what you heard about that Mary we was talkin' about the other evenin'." Molly prodded the girl with a finger. "Go ahead, girl. Where's your tongue?'

  "Well, ma'am, I come from 'Napolis, 'cross the Chesapeake." She jerked a thumb west. "There I was under the service of a Master Jeremy. He bought me indenture from a Master Laurence 'cause Master—"

  "Get on with it, girl." Molly interrupted. "Can't you tell this here is a lady? She don't have no time for your sad tales. 'Tain't her concern if you're shiftless!"

  "Well." Rosemary went on. "When I was workin' for Master Jeremy in his tavern, The King's Hound, there was this bar maid . . . old to be servin' tables she was. And the story was that she was from a wealthy family over here to Dover." The bondservant took in a deep breath, continuing with her story. "They say she run off with a British officer, only he dumped her sometime later and since then she's been a'servin' tables to earn her keep. 'Course I don't know if there's truth to it." The girl brushed a wisp of dark hair from the corner of her mouth. "She never paid the rest of us girls no mind, and when she did, it was only to curse at us or trod on our feet."

  Cassie took a deep breath, trying to absorb the information the girl offered. It couldn't be Mary. It just couldn't; she wasn't that kind. Or was she? "What did she look like?"

  "Ma'am?" The serving girl chewed furiously on her bottom lip.

  Molly took over. "Tell the mistress what that Mary looked like. Have you no sense, girl?"

  "Well, she was 'bout this tall." Rosemary raised a hand in indication. "And she had brown hair and a puss so puckered, not a man would give her any mind!"

  "Not much to go on." Cassie murmured. Then she looked up at the serving girl. "Thank you, Rosemary. I would appreciate it if you'd not speak of this to anyone else."

  Rosemary gave a nod and darted off, disappearing into the back kitchen again.

  For several moments Cassie was silent. Then, slowly, she rose to her feet, picking up her reticule from the plank table. "Why didn't you say anything about this before, Molly?"

  "'Tweren't any of my knitting—besides, who'd I tell? Who would believe such a tale? A woman from a family such as the Marshes."

  Cassie nodded absently, shrugging on her pelisse. "You've got a point."

  "Phsew! Listen to you. Come a long way, haven't you, Cassie Marsh?" Molly got to her feet to say her good-byes.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Listen to the way you're talkin'! Like rich folks!" She pointed toward the manservant, who had leaped to his feet when Cassie got up. "And what about that monkey on a string?" She smiled with pride. "Glad to have known you."

  Cassie smiled, leaning to give Molly a hug. "Nice to have known you, too. I'm going back to Marshview to talk to Devon. Give that husband of yours a hug for me, will you?" She buttoned her pelisse and drew the hood over her mass of sunlit curls. "Good-bye."

  Molly stood at the table, watching Cassie go through the door the servant held open for her. "Good-bye." she called after her. "Good-bye and God bless, Cassie O'Flynn."

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  "Good evening, Reverend Alms, welcome to Marshview." Devon greeted him at the door. "You remember my wife, Cassie, don't you, sir?"

  Cassie gave a demure nod. "Good even', Reverend. We're so pleased you could come." She smiled, immensely amused by her husband's antics. How could the poor clergyman not remember?

  The reverend squirmed as he stumbled over the niceties of conversation, pulling on the collar of his frock as if it were too tight. He seemed greatly relieved when Devon directed him toward the punch bowl, moving to greet the next guest that came to the door.

  Tonight candles shone in every window in Marshview's great house. All of Dover had been invited to a party given in Cassie and Devon's honor by the elder Marshes. Carriages came and went in the drive as the house began to fill with bustling petticoats and stiff frock coats. Everyone was anxious to meet the woman who had fired cannons on the redcoats.

  The brick walls of the house seemed to expand, breathing with the life of the patriots. Men's laughter echoed in the halls as Blue Hen soldiers on furlough repeated tales of bravery on the front lines and tears were shed for the men who died. Wine flowed freely and tongues wagged as everyone fought to get a look at Cassie, to speak with her, to see what she was like.

  As a guest of honor, Cassie had dressed carefully this evening. She was Devon Marsh's wife now, not a soldier, and she wanted everyone to know she could fill either shoe. Devon's eyes had sparkled with pride as she had come down the grand staircase earlier in the evening. He had said he had never seen her looking so radiant; he had said a more beautiful woman couldn't be found in the Colonies.

  Cassie's gown was emerald in hue, a silk polonaise with a matching quilted petticoat and gauze flounce. Her hair had been swept up and curled in an intricate coiffure and festooned with emerald bows. The handmaid had tried to attach an ostrich feather headdress to the masterpiece, but Cassie had refused. "Fashion be damned." she'd said. "I'll not wear any feathers in my hai
r like a redskin, not as long as there's breath in my body!"

  "Cassie"—Devon took her by the elbow, leading her into one of the twin parlors. "I want you to meet a friend. "Caesar, this is my wife, Cassie, the infamous cannoneer. Cassie, Caesar Rodney, one of our assemblymen."

  "Pleased to meet you, sir." Cassie smiled, offering her hand.

  Caesar pressed his lips to the back of her hand graciously. He was an odd-looking man, whose head seemed to be too small for his body, but his eyes shone with great intelligence. "At last, I make your acquaintance, Mistress Marsh. You are well known throughout the county—indeed, several counties. You are to be commended for your patriotism."

  "I must tell you, sir, to begin with, my intentions were not so grand. The truth is, I had a disagreement with my husband here"—she brushed at Devon's coat with her hand—"and I went after him. It was only after I was with our soldiers that I began to understand the cause they are fighting for. They made me understand."

  Caesar studied her sparkling emerald eyes. "Your honesty is refreshing, Mistress Marsh."

  "Now tell me, Master Rodney." Cassie leaned her head toward him. "What of money for our troops? Come spring they must have decent uniforms and more ammunition. If we're to win this war, they must be well supplied. What is your Congress going to do for our brave men?"

  Devon gave a laugh, excusing himself. "I think my wife here can do a better job of trumping up support than I can." He nodded to Caesar and leaned to give Cassie a peck on the cheek." You'll not get away from her now, Caesar—not until you've made a commitment." he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd.

  Cassie laughed. "I fear my husband is right; they'll be no escaping me now."

  "Then come, we shall have a drink and discuss the situation." Caesar put out his arm and Cassie took it, allowing him to lead her away.

  Later in the evening, Cassie stood beside Devon chatting with one of the neighbors. He and Master Jordon were having a heated discussion on how much wheat could be reaped from one acre. When Cassie spotted the front door swinging open and Anne stepping into the entry way, she hurried to her side.

  "Anne! So glad to see you!" Cassie took her pelisse, handing it to a footman. "I didn't think you were in town." She glanced behind Anne. "Where's John?"

  Anne reached for Cassie's arm. "Could we talk in private?" She forced a smile.

  Without another word, Cassie led Anne through the crowd and up the grand staircase to her bedchamber. "Sit." she ordered, motioning to the upholstered wing-back chair. "Would you like some tea?"

  Anne shook her head. "I wanted to come and see you." She sat down, smoothing her gown over her rounded belly. "But all of the people, I'm not ready to face them yet."

  "What's happened, Anne? Tell me."

  "It's John. He was caught. They had no proof the supplies he carried were for our troops. They knew they were, but they have no proof. They can't hold him long."

  "Oh, Anne—" Cassie's voice cracked with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

  Anne smiled sadly. "He knew the risks, we both did."

  "I know, but it's not very consoling, is it?"

  Anne shook her head, accepting the lace handkerchief her friend offered. "It's not for me I'm concerned, but our child." She ran a hand over her protruding stomach. "I've sent message after message to my father begging him to help, but they go unanswered." She hung her head. "I fear he will never forgive me for marrying John."

  "Then I am sorry for him as well as you. He may still come around someday, these things take time. Now tell me what happened." Cassie pulled up a small wooden stool and sat down, not caring if she wrinkled the emerald gown. "Do you know where John's being held?"

  "No, I was hoping Devon could help." She lowered her eyelashes. "If I could be so bold as to ask. I don't know where else to turn."

  "Don't be a fool, Anne. We're friends, you and I. Devon will look into it immediately."

  "You should speak with him first." Anne dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief.

  "I'll speak with him tonight, but don't worry. If anyone can find your John, it's Devon." Cassie reached for Anne's trembling hand, giving it a squeeze. "Now you must tell me everything. Where he was picked up, what he was carrying, who the arresting officers were."

  "Tomorrow will be soon enough. I don't want to take you from your party. I feel better already, really, I do."

  "Don't be a goose, Anne. Now tell me what Devon needs to know." She was up on her feet, searching a drawer for ink and a quill. "And don't leave out anything."

  Well past midnight, Cassie allowed her handmaid to remove her dress, and then she dismissed her. When Devon came into their bedchamber and threw the bolt on the door, Cassie was plucking the emerald ribbons from her coiffure and unwinding her heavy tresses.

  He came up behind her, kissing the hollow of her neck. He snaked his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder to peer into the mirror. "You were beautiful tonight." His pride was evident in his voice. "You were the perfect hostess; no one in Dover could hold a candle to you."

  Cassie smiled at their reflection, leaning against him. "I hate to admit it, but I enjoyed it. Sally Pickerton invited me to tea tomorrow and Mildred Laurson the next."

  "I'm glad you had a good time." He released her to shrug off his royal blue coat and sat down to take off his heeled shoes. "I have just one question." His voice was laced with lazy humor. "Who might I ask was that red-haired beauty down there talking as if she'd been schooled in London?"

  Cassie flashed him a grin. "Good, wasn't I?" She began to run her silver-handled hairbrush through her thick hair. "'Tis easy enough when I set my mind to it. Not a curse word from my mouth all night." She laid the brush on the side table and went to kneel in front of Devon. She unhooked his garters and began to roll down his stockings as she spoke. "I've something to speak with you about. Two things actually."

  "I can take down my own stockings, Cas." Devon leaned forward to roll the other.

  "Oh, sit back and let me do it. You can pretend I'm one of those obeying wives men always think they want. Besides, I like to run my hands down your legs."

  He laughed, leaning back. "All right, wife, what is it you want to tell me?"

  "First I ask a favor. Not for me, but for Anne." She tossed his stockings onto the floor. "John has been arrested, or at least is being held. He was caught hauling supplies for our soldiers. They're accusing him of spying, but they've no proof of anything. They won't tell Anne where he's being held. Can you do something?"

  "I'll look into it tomorrow." Devon drew her into his arms, seating her on his lap. "I know I can find where he's being held. As for getting him free, that's going to be more difficult."

  "No, Anne just wants to know he's safe." Cassie loosened his stock and removed it. "She doesn't expect you to do anything else. But you'll try, won't you?" Her eyes met his and she leaned to brush her lips against his cheek.

  He gave a nod. "I'll do my damnest, sweet."

  "I knew you would. Now the other thing." Cassie hesitated, not sure where to start. All afternoon she had tried to get a chance to tell him what she'd heard about Mary, but they had never been alone long enough. They had dressed separately and then there had been the party and the crowds of people. "It's about Mary . . ."

  "What of her? You heard something? Tell me!"

  "Now this is just a tavern rumor, but I think we should look into it immediately." She chewed at her bottom lip apprehensively. "Someone saw her in a tavern in Annapolis a fortnight ago."

  "And no one came to her aid? A woman held against her will?"

  Cassie shook her head emphatically. "I'm not sure that it was her, but this Mary was working in the tavern. She was serving ale. The King's Hound—do you know it?"

  Devon eased Cassie off his lap and got to his feet. "It couldn't be her, Cas. What would she be doing serving in a tavern?" He began to pace the floor a scowl on his face.

  "I know, it's probably not her, but the des
cription fits and I think we ought to go there, just to be sure."

  "It's a waste of time. It couldn't be her." He pulled his shirt over his head and began to unbutton his breeches, his motions jerky.

  "Do what you like. I was hoping you'd go with me. I've never been to Annapolis. I thought it would be nice to spend a few nights alone." She pulled her chemise over her head and slipped beneath the coverlets.

  Devon scrutinized Cassie. "You really think it could be her?" He didn't want to believe it, but he knew he'd be a fool not to consider all the possibilities. Cassie was not a woman who gossiped. She seemed to think this was important enough to repeat. "If it was here, she would have come home."

  Cassie watched Devon in silence. She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to hurt him, but she knew she had to tell him the whole truth. "Rumor in The Patriot is that this Mary was from a wealthy family in Dover. They say she left her husband and children to run off with an English officer, then he dumped her when he tired of her."

  "That's ludicrous!" He threw his breeches on the floor and climbed into bed, shivering. The huge chimney that lined one wall was usually enough to keep the bedchamber warm, but suddenly Devon felt chilled.

  Cassie crossed the expanse between them, resting her head on his bare chest. The light of the lamp on the side table cast shadows over his face, making it difficult for her to see his expression. "If it is her, we'll go get her. We'll bring her home."

  "The hell I will! If it is her, which it isn't, I'd leave her there to rot." He folded his hands behind his head.

  "Devon, how can you say such a thing? Don't be a fool! She's your sister!"

  "No sister of mine would disgrace our family like that." He closed his eyes, his face void of emotion.

  "Things don't always go the way you want them to in life, Devon. If it is her, she deserves another chance."

  "Since when are you taking up for Mary? I thought you hated her."

  "I don't hate her. I don't like her much." Cassie ran her palm over Devon's broad chest. "But I don't hate her. Everyone deserves a second chance." When Devon made no reply, Cassie rolled over, presenting her back. "Sleep on it. You could take care of the business with John and then we could go. Or I could go alone if you wish; I'll take a manservant. I can stay with your cousin in Annapolis."