Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland

by Roseanna White

  “Nonsense. I only made you ford the streams first, that is all.”

  Laughter filled the room and warmed Edwinn to his core. It had been too long since he had heard the mirth of so many people at once, since he had felt a part of a gathering. He shared a smile with Sena as she handed off the book in her hands to her mother and took her seat, then found one of his own at Randel’s invitation.

  “I suppose introductions must be made.” Randel settled at his wife’s side and motioned toward Fielding. “This would be the infamous Emerson Fielding. Fielding, our good friends the Calverts—Mr. Edwinn Calvert, and his sister, Miss Kate Calvert.”

  Edwinn inclined his head. “We met on the walk over, as it happens.”

  “And I am pleased to make both your acquaintances.” Fielding nodded at him and offered Kate a polite smile. He glanced over the rest of the gathering too, but then settled his attention on Miss Benton. “You look well today, Lark. I prayed you had not caught a chill from yesterday.”

  “Not at all.” She offered a smile more mischievous than sweet. “Though perhaps I was warmed by the searing letter I wrote to my brother.”

  Fielding’s smile was lopsided. “I feel no pity for him, even imagining how scalded he will be when he reads it.”

  Edwinn’s question must have been on his face. Sena sent him her usual impish grin and bounced a bit on the cushion beside Kate. “Oh Mr. Calvert, you would not have heard yet. Mr. Fielding happened upon us yesterday while we were out, and Lark dashed away like a veritable specter, flew down Cornhill Street, and tumbled straight into the bay. Mr. Fielding had to jump in after her to pull her out.”

  His breath hitched. “Dear Miss Benton, are you quite sure you have not suffered any injury? Those waters are brutal.”

  Her expression softened. “I am quite fine, Mr. Calvert. Thank you for your concern.”

  Fielding shifted in obvious discomfort. Well, let him be chafed. A bit of competition would do the man good, even if Edwinn knew full well his place was not by Miss Benton’s side. He had been called to be her friend—and friends looked out for each other’s best interests. He must discover if Fielding fit in hers.

  The Virginian shifted, dredged up a smile. “The proprietress at the Middleton took most excellent care of her.”

  “Which would not have been possible without your quick action, Mr. Fielding.” Mrs. Randel’s soft smile lit up her corner of the room. “We all owe you many thanks for your heroics.”

  Though such words would flatter many of the men Edwinn knew, make their chests puff up no matter how humble the reply they made, Fielding looked genuinely uncomfortable with the praise. His shoulders rolled forward slightly, and his brows pulled down. “I am no hero, Mrs. Randel. Let us but thank the Lord I was there in ample time to do some good.”

  Though his speech halted, Edwinn sensed an unspoken “for once” hovering before him. Curious. Who was Emerson Fielding? This figure of contrition whose gaze didn’t leave Miss Benton’s face, or the passionless, unfaithful rogue Randel had described? He supposed it was possible for a man to have the potential for both inside him.

  Edwinn rested his cane against his leg. “Well I for one will be thanking the Lord you came through the ordeal without injury or illness, Miss Benton. And I dare not consider what might have happened otherwise.”

  Sena sighed. “I knew I ought to have followed. Not that I would have been able to save Lark—we would have sunk to the bottom together had I tried it—but all the excitement I missed!”

  “I would have gladly traded you places as I sat shivering afterward.” Chuckling, Lark shook her head. “That particular kind of excitement I am happy to do without.”

  “I do not envy you that either. But the chase…” Sena drew in a long breath, the corners of her lips curving up. “Delightful. And I would have loved to overhear the two of you fighting it out at the Middleton.”

  Randel folded his arms over his chest. “As would I, to be sure there was a proper chaperone present. Really, Fielding, keeping her down there as long as you did…”

  Fielding arched a brow. “Was necessary to ensure she was dry and warm enough for the trip back to your house, Mr. Randel.” His lips turned up. “Though if you are concerned for her reputation, I am happy to make an honest woman of her. How does March seventh sound for a wedding, Lark?”

  She narrowed her eyes to two blue slits as her cheeks flushed. “As my reputation is not in need of saving, it is irrelevant.”

  A ripple of laughter moved through the room. Mrs. Randel shook her head, amusement sparkling in her clear brown eyes. “You must have missed her immensely, Mr. Fielding.”

  His nod was serious. “More than words can express.”

  Lark’s expression went far too sweet to be guileless. “Oh now, ’tisn’t as though you saw me any less this last month than you did in the one before it.”

  Leaning comfortably into his chair, Edwinn smiled at her brewing temper. “In this case, his loss is truly our gain. I know I speak for all of us when I say we are pleased to be the recipients of your company, Miss Benton.”

  He couldn’t help but look at Fielding to see the man’s reaction—his jaw pulsed, his smile looked forced, and jealousy shadowed his eyes. Whatever the reason for Fielding’s lack of attention in years past, he was obviously not disinterested in Miss Benton now.

  Another slight movement caught his eyes, this one from Sena’s direction. He glanced her way and frowned. Perhaps she meant it to look like she merely repositioned herself, but discomfort pulled at her posture, and something flitted across her face….

  Someone might as well have struck him, for all his ability to draw another breath. She looked hurt. Distressed, though she covered it quickly with a beaming smile for Lark. Still, he caught the darting look she sent him, though her eyes snapped back toward the others when she realized he studied her.

  Was is possible? Could she feel something warmer than friendship for him, something that would make his comments toward Lark upset her? Something that would make Randel’s jest about a courtship feasible?

  Uncertainty pounded through his veins. Sena was everything bright and bold, everything patriotic and loyal. She was without doubt one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and he knew her heart was beyond compare. But…but what was he? A lame, homeless Tory with no friends beyond this room. He had nothing to offer a woman like Sena.

  He had just as little to offer any other woman, but one of a disposition similar to his would be more likely to accept him as he was, wouldn’t she?

  But Sena… He drew in a breath at last and felt a whisper move through him. Listen to him, admiring her so highly yet ignoring her most admirable virtue of all—her acceptance of persons based on their hearts, not their social status. Certainly she was capable of loving a man like Edwinn.

  Not that she necessarily did.

  Oh, blast. He’d set out to make Fielding give deeper thought to his feelings, not himself. Which just went to show that perhaps one ought not use devious means to achieve a goal. Shining a light on this stranger’s heart was hardly worth risking Sena’s, if feel something for him she did.

  “Oh, before I forget.” Randel stretched an arm out behind his wife on the sofa and sent Edwinn a half smile, then Fielding. “Upon my wife’s insistence, I am hosting a gentlemen’s evening this coming Wednesday. You are both welcome to attend; we shall convene at eight o’clock and carry on as long as the liquor holds out and Mrs. Randel’s patience allows.”

  Edwinn’s spirits rose…then plummeted. “What sort of gathering?”

  “A resurgence of the Tuesday Club, or as close to it as we can manage.” Randel waved a hand. “It shan’t be the same, of course, but we shall do our best to combine our wits, sing our neighbors out of their beds, and trounce upon philosophies both sound and foolish.”

  Fielding leaned back in his seat with a nod. “Sounds entertaining. I shall certainly be here. Who else will attend?”

  Randel coughed, glanced at E
dwinn. “Oh, the usual crowd. Paca, Lloyd, Hamilton if he is in town. Jefferson has said he will try to be here, and Monroe will come if he does. I have heard tell a few other delegates are on their way who are always up for such a gathering.”

  Edwinn rocked his cane forward and back. “If you wish me dead, Randel, all you need do is find some shot. You needn’t plan such a complicated execution.”

  Randel laughed, which loosened the knot of dread inside. It didn’t unravel it completely, but it at least convinced Edwinn his friend’s motives weren’t underhanded.

  “I did not want you to feel left out, Calvert. And it may be an excellent time to renew acquaintances.”

  He shook his head. “More like a sure way to ruin your gathering. I thank you for wanting to include me, but I shall take the path of peace and leave your evening free of Tories.”

  “Tories?” Fielding snapped forward, eyes gleaming. Not with hatred exactly, but with surprise. And perhaps disillusionment, though that made little sense. What illusions of him could the man have after a mere half hour? Then his gaze fell to Edwinn’s cane, providing part of the answer. “You fought for the British?”

  “Fought? No.” Edwinn patted his bad leg. “This happened in a childhood riding accident. Though regardless, I would not have taken up arms.”

  Fielding looked genuinely perturbed, bordering on confused. “Did you really think the British in the right?”

  He drew in a careful breath. “I thought the Patriot methodology in the wrong. I am glad these United States are now independent, do not mistake me. But I could not support the way they achieved it, and so I was branded an enemy.”

  “You agree with Dr. Byles’s reasoning, then?”

  Edwinn arched a brow. “Which? The man had quite a few witticisms.”

  Fielding tilted his head. “The one asking ‘which is better—to be ruled by one tyrant three thousand miles away, or by three thousand tyrants not a mile away?’”

  A smile teased the corners of Edwinn’s mouth. “I thought that clever but unjust when I first heard it. Then my neighbors seized my property and still refuse to return it to me. It does beg the question of whether this freedom is to be as stingily granted now, from this government, as it was from the Crown. I have certainly not tasted of it.”

  Randel hooked an ankle over the opposite knee. “Surely you understand feeling torn, Fielding. You were in England when the war broke out. Staying with relations, even, were you not?”

  “Cousins, when I was not at Oxford.” Fielding’s eyes seemed to darken, and his gaze didn’t budge from Edwinn’s face. “But there was never a question in my mind, no. I was a Virginian, an American, not an Englishman. I knew my duty.”

  “You always did,” Randel muttered.

  “Which is admirable.” Miss Benton followed her assertion with a blush, as if remembering she didn’t want to defend her formerbetrothed. She swallowed and lifted her chin again, leveled her gaze on Fielding. “Oxford would be where you met Elizabeth, correct?”

  Edwinn had no idea of what import this Elizabeth was, but he could see the effects of the name clearly enough. Fielding drew in a sharp breath, inclined his head, and stared down the woman across from him. “I imagine Wiley already informed you it was, yes. Which is irrelevant.”

  “Of course it is.” She focused her eyes on the crown molding, somehow making it look as though she dismissed him, rather than that she gave up the argument.

  Fielding visibly gathered his composure. “Lark, if you wish to discuss such bygones, I will happily comply when company permits. I cannot think everyone here would be interested in such history, though. Even Randel, who is so notoriously in favor of the subject when it comes to schooling.”

  She met Fielding’s gaze again. Her countenance softened. “And why should he not be in favor of the subject as a whole? I always found history fascinating. The tides of kings and empires, of the common folk who rose above their means to make contributions we still remember today.” She gave a happy, if exaggerated, sigh. “Sena and I have entertained ourselves with crafting stories these last weeks that utilize our lessons in history.”

  Sena smiled. “Absolutely. Knights-errant, tales of chivalry, the folklore of our distant kin… Really, history is so colorful there is little reason to ever embellish it. Is that not right, Papa?”

  “Indeed, and we have seen the making of it yet again. Did you all hear that the Northern states have banned the import of African slaves? I know most statesmen from Maryland and Virginia hope to do the same, so that the dreadful practice of slaveholding will cease over time.”

  Fielding inclined his head. “Laudable, and I hope they shall. But many of the plantation owners I am acquainted with, especially those from the far Southern states, will not relinquish their labor force so readily.”

  Mr. Randel took up the debate, effectively moving the subject safely away from whatever dangers lay in the topic of this Elizabeth. When Miss Benton’s gaze happened to swing Edwinn’s way, he gave her a small nod of approval, which she acknowledged with a minuscule smile.

  She would have had her reasons for bringing up the woman, perhaps a reflex to cover her defense. But she halted her interrogation rather than pushing the point and causing Fielding too much discomfort.

  She still loved the man, without question. He buried a smile as he wondered if she realized it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lark pulled her cloak tight and surveyed the collection of congregants milling about West Street. Her hosts were surrounded by friends. This was the first week Mrs. Randel had ventured out in a long while, and they had been converged upon the moment they stepped from the theater-turned-church. They wandered a bit in the direction of home, but not quickly enough for Lark’s taste.

  She darted a glance behind her, where Emerson was fast approaching, then looked again to the Randels, who were barely moving. She could hardly escape Emerson at this snail’s pace. She would have to circle around the milling bodies and come back to her friends in a moment.

  Another step, and the subsequent slip from brick sidewalk to puddle of slush proved mortification was possible even at said pace. She barely had time for a squeak of dread before strong, familiar hands caught her elbows and pulled her back to safety. With a huff of frustration—more at herself than him—she glared at Emerson. “Will you stop?”

  Amusement pulled up his brows and lips. “Stop rescuing you? I am afraid I cannot agree to that, Lark, lest you end up muddied or drowned.”

  She pulled her elbow free of his grasp and felt her face pull into a frown. “That is not what I mean. I refer to the fact that since you arrived on Friday, a waking hour has scarcely passed without you hovering.”

  His amusement didn’t so much as twitch. “It would rather defeat the purpose of my presence here if I were not spending the time with you.”

  “So go home.” She pulled her wrap tighter and turned away from him. Not that she had anywhere to go until the Randels were ready.

  “No thank you.”

  A growl formed in her throat. She swallowed it down, but it still colored her voice when she said, “Then can you at least look somewhere else once in a while? Every time I glance up, you are staring at me.”

  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow, then led her around a group of chatting Annapolitans toward a less-occupied patch of sidewalk. “For years I was purposefully blind. Now I find myself infinitely aware of all I failed to see before. And perhaps afraid if I take my eyes off you, you might run away again.”

  She had walked arm in arm with him often enough over the past two years. Into every dinner, every ball. But never when the occasion didn’t demand it, when they were simply out and about together.

  Perhaps because they had never been simply out and about together. Certainly he’d never felt the need to lead her around outside their own church.

  Still, it shouldn’t make that tingle of awareness shoot up her arm. Sh
e should be beyond that by now. The fact that she wasn’t sliced her mood to a sharp edge. “I am not going anywhere, as I already made clear. Though feel free to take yourself away. You shan’t be missed.”

  He splayed a hand across his chest. “You cut me to the quick, my love.”

  Yet he looked as confident as ever. “I am not your love, and I believe I asked you to stop calling me such.”

  “No, you said to stop calling you ‘darling.’ You said nothing about ‘my love.’”

  “I am saying it now.”

  “Very well.” He chuckled and drew her to a halt beneath a barelimbed tree. “I will have to think up some other clever endearment.”

  “No. You will not.” She caught the curious gazes of a few young men she’d met at the New Year’s collation and took her hand from his arm. “Everyone will think we’re…”

  “A couple? What a shame.” The menacing glare he directed toward the gentlemen would have sent a thrill through her a month ago. “You seem to have gathered quite the collection of admirers, Lark.”

  “Which no doubt shocks you.” Not that he had sounded as surprised by it as she had felt. “Apparently I do have some merits beyond being a Benton of Williamsburg.”

  Now his frown moved from jealous to pained. “You doubted that?”

  “Why would I not?” She pitched her voice low and spread her hands wide. “No one ever sought out my company, Emerson. And the one man I wished would pay attention never did.”

  “He was an idiot.”

  “Yes. And now, for the first time since I entered society, no one thinks I belong to that idiot. For the first time I am allowed to be me, not just Wiley’s sister or your intended.”

  He leaned in, crowding her without getting too close, simply because of his height. “I want you to be you. But there is no reason you cannot be you beside me, now that I have overcome my idiocy.”

  “Is there not?” She leaned back against the tree and surveyed the townsfolk milling about West Street. “Now seems as good a time as any for you to tell me about Elizabeth.”