Julius heaved another sigh. "Suit yourself, boyo, but if you don't find yourself a better disposition—be it in a bottle or in a slut's bed—damned if I might not consider jumping ship with some of those other mates."
Gavin stiffened. Ellen had abandoned him. Would Julius too? "If you want to go, you know you're free. We have no written contract."
Julius started down the ladder, muttering more to himself than to Gavin. "Contract, hell, you black-hearted fool. We got friendship as a contract, and if you weren't so blessed lovesick, you'd remember that."
"Are you saying something to me?" Gavin demanded.
Julius shinnied down the ladder to the deck below. "Not a thing." He smiled to himself. "Not a rotting thing."
Not half an hour later, Julius came up the ladder onto the quarterdeck again.
Gavin was still concentrating on the manifest. He'd made such a mess of it the day before that it would take him a week to straighten it out. He barely looked up at Julius. "You back again already? Don't you have any work to do, because if you don't, I can well find some. As much as I pay you—"
"Gavin . . ."
The tone in Julius's voice made Gavin look up.
"Julius?"
"I just heard out on the docks"—he raised his hands—"now, it's just a rumor, but I heard there's a fire at the King's Theater."
Gavin laid down his quill. "Anyone hurt?"
"I don't know. It's still burning, they say." He paused. "They say there's some actresses caught in the dressing rooms."
Before the last words were out of Julius's mouth, Gavin was taking the ladder rungs two at a time.
"She might not even be there!" Julius shouted, watching Gavin spring across the main deck toward the gangplank.
Gavin only waved his hand. Once on the dock, he ran up to one of the merchants he dealt with. The man was chatting with another, the reins of his horse looped through his fingers.
"I have to borrow your horse, Monty," Gavin said as he snatched the reins from the startled man's hand.
"What?"
Gavin leaped astride and gathered the reins. "I said, I have to borrow your horse. I'll bring him right back," he called over his shoulder as he egged the steed forward through a throng of sailors carrying bags of flour.
"The hell you are, Gavin! My aunt is expecting me."
Gavin tipped his hat as he flew down the wooden dock, the horse's hooves clattering on the planks. "I appreciate it, Monty! I'll be right back, I swear it!"
Gavin could still hear Monty cursing as he rode the merchant's horse off the dock, around a warehouse, and down the street toward Drury Lane, where the playhouse was located.
Ellen! Ellen! his mind screamed. His sweet Ellen. If something happened to her, he didn't know what he'd do. These last weeks without her had been hell. For so long he had looked forward for the approval by the king of his land grants, and now that he had them, they seemed of little importance. Without Ellen the days dragged, the nights were unbearable. He wanted her so badly, but he wanted her to want him even more.
"Come on, come on," Gavin murmured beneath his breath as he tried to push through the busy street.
A two-wheeled wagon filled with faggots pulled out in front of him, and he cursed the yeoman driver and darted around the slow-moving vehicle.
By the time Gavin veered off Fleet Street and onto The Strand, he could see smoke rising above the haphazard wooden building. Dodging coaches and men and women on foot, he slowly made his way onto Bow Street and hurried toward Drury Lane. By the time he had sight of the playhouse looming above the other buildings, the crowd of onlookers had grown so large that he was having a difficult time pushing through.
"Coming through! Coming through!" he shouted above the sound of excited voices. In the confusion of the pressing bodies and shouts, the horse became skittish and Gavin struggled to keep him in control. Some people moved back to make way for the horse and rider, while others stubbornly held their places.
Gavin could smell smoke and see it rising from the rear of the playhouse, though he still saw no actual flames. Finally, when he realized he was getting no closer to Ellen astride the horse, he dismounted. He grabbed the nearest person, a woman with red hair and a redder face. "Hold my horse, will yon?" He fished a coin from his purse. "Keep him from being stolen and there'll be more when I return."
"Aye, sir, that I can do." The woman beamed. "You mind if my little'ns sit atop. They's nearly being crushed by the crowd."
Gavin eyed the two scrubbed-faced children clinging to her skirts. "Just mind the horse," he muttered, grabbing both children and swinging them astride the saddle. He heard their giggles as he pushed through the crowd, leaving the redhead and the horse to be swallowed up in the throng.
Pushing his way forward, he nearly reached the playhouse, when he recognized a woman as an actress he'd seen on the stage. "Ellen Scarlet . . . have you seen her?"
The woman's face was blackened with soot save for the clean streaks of tears running down her cheeks. "She was inside with the rest of us, sir. That's all I can tell you."
Gavin moved closer to the building. He grabbed the next person he recognized, a man who played all the second leading comedy roles. Ellen had once introduced them. "Parker!"
"My lord?"
"Have you seen Ellen?"
"God's bowels, you can't see anything in there! The smoke's too thick."
"What the hell's on fire?"
"Don't know. Something near the back." When Parker saw Gavin headed straight for the door, he called out to him. "Hey, you can't go in there. The smoke'll kill you!"
"I have to find Ellen," he shouted as he pushed by a king's guard sent to prevent looting.
"I say, my lord, you'll not be entering here. King's orders."
"Is everyone out?" Gavin rested his hand on the door.
"Don't know, sir. Just doing my duty, and that's to keep everyone out. We don't want anyone hurt, you know."
Gavin pushed the guard aside. "I'll take my chances."
"Hey there! Stop! Stop, I say, in the name of—"
The guard's voice was lost as the door closed behind Gavin. For a moment he stood there trying to get his bearings. The smoke was thick, making visibility difficult, but he could still see.
Someone had said the fire was in the rear. That had to be where Ellen was. Covering his mouth and nose with his handkerchief, Gavin raced through the internal halls of the playhouse. Nothing looked familiar, but he'd been through here enough times to trust his memory.
Certain he was near the rear of the theater where the dressing rooms were, he thought he heard voices. "Ellen! Ellen!" he screamed. His voice was hoarse from the smoke, his eyes teary.
"Ellen!" He followed the source of the voices, certain they were feminine. Someone was screaming. He turned down a hall half blocked with furniture. "Ellen!"
"Here!" Gavin thought he heard.
"Ellen!"
"We're here!" she shouted.
Gavin heaved a sigh of relief as he blindly raced down the smoke-filled corridor. She was safe! Thank God she was safe!
"Ellen, what the hell are you still doing in here!" He caught sight of her silhouette through the smoke. Then he heard the screaming.
"The twits!" She banged a closed door with her fist in frustration. "They've locked themselves inside and won't come out." She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I can't find a key anywhere." She reached out and touched his sleeve without thinking. "Gavin, if we don't get them out of there, they're going to suffocate."
He took her arm and pushed her. "You get out. I'll take care of this."
She shook her head. "No. It's too easy to get lost in the smoke. We go out together."
Gavin cursed her beneath his breath but knew better than to waste precious time arguing with her. "Find me something solid to break down the door. The smoke is getting thicker! We've got to hurry!"
Ellen disappeared from Gavin's line of vision as he hurled himself at the wooden door, ho
ping the lock would break free. "Open up! Open up in there!" he shouted.
The screaming had ceased. Now the women were only sobbing.
Gavin heaved himself against the door again and again, but to no avail. The wood creaked and the lock scraped, but the door refused to budge.
"Here!" Ellen called from behind.
Gavin turned to see her lugging a metal post used for lighting on the stage.
The post was remarkably heavy. How Ellen had gotten it down the hall Gavin didn't know. "Stand back," he shouted, coughing.
Mustering every bit of strength he had, he slammed the pole into the door at the lock plate. Wood splintered, but the door didn't break free.
"Again! You have to try again! It's working!"
"Get out, Ellen!"
"Not without you!"
He took a running start and rammed the door again. On the third try, he heard the sweet sound of splintering wood and scraping metal, and the door swung open.
Gavin dropped the pole and rushed inside. In the corner of the tiny room he found two women huddled on the floor, gasping for breath. He grabbed both of them by the arm. "Come on!" he shouted.
Both sobbed as he dragged them through the broken doorway.
"Which way?" he called to Ellen. It was so difficult to breathe now that every word was too great an effort. Gavin suddenly realized that they would be lucky if they made it out of the building before they were overcome by the smoke. "You'll have to lead us out!"
"This way!"
"No, wait." He grabbed her shoulder. "Down on your hands and knees. There's less smoke at the floor. Can you manage?"
Obediently, she dropped on all fours as he dragged the two hysterical women down with him. "What about them?" Ellen asked. "You can't carry them."
"You lead. They'll have to follow. I'll take up the rear."
"I can't," one of the women sobbed, slumping against Gavin. "I just can't."
Ellen reached out and slapped her face. "The hell you can't, Marcy! You think the viscount hasn't got better things to do than save your sorry tail? Now you get down on your hands and knees and you follow me like he tells you, you understand?"
Sobbing, Marcy did as she was told. The other girl followed suit, managing only to nod with round, terrified eyes.
The foursome went down the hall on their hands and knees, then turned right. "It's not too much farther," Ellen assured them. Still, they moved slowly. The halls were lined with hanging costumes and props, as well as with bulky pieces of furniture.
When Gavin bumped into a bucket of water, he groaned, crawling around it. Then suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Wait!" he ordered. He grasped the closest woman's skirt and pulled out the knife he wore on his belt. She gave a little shriek as he ripped a good size hunk from the taffeta and tore it into four pieces. "This will help you breathe," he told Ellen as he pushed a wet square of cloth into her sooty hand. "Just press it to your face. It will filter out some of the smoke."
She followed his instructions as he dipped the other pieces of cloth and forced the other women to take them.
"Ready?" Ellen called.
"Let's go," he echoed.
Down on her hands and knees, Ellen scurried. Her eyes stung badly and her chest ached, but she pressed on until finally she spotted sunlight. Someone had thrown open the doors to let out the smoke!
"The door!" Ellen scrambled to her feet.
Gavin grabbed the two women and hauled them up off the floor and through the doorway.
The fresh air and sunshine hit him like a solid wall. He choked and gasped as the two women slipped from his hands and disappeared into the crowd. His eyes were watering so badly that he could barely see. "Ellen! Ellen!"
"Here!"
He felt her touch and he swung around, pulling her against him. "I was afraid I'd lost you," he whispered emotionally. "I was afraid you were dead."
She laughed, coughing and choking. "I'm all right. See, I'm all right."
Someone offered them a gourd of water and they shared it. Outside in the fresh air, their lungs and eyes began to clear. They stepped back from the building as men began to rush in with buckets of water.
Gavin brushed back Ellen's tangled hair. "You're certain you're all right?"
She leaned against a wagon, offering a smile. "I'm certain. Where did you come from? What were you doing in the theater?"
He took the wet cloth he still held in his hand and wiped her sooty cheeks. "It doesn't matter."
She stroked his beard-stubbled cheek, taking in for the first time his ragged, unkempt attire. It had obviously been days since he had shaved and his hair, though pulled back in a savage's braid, was none too tidy, either. "You really were afraid for me, weren't you?"
"Ellen, this is ridiculous. I'm sailing tomorrow. I want you to come with me."
She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her gown. "Gavin, please."
"Tomorrow. Do you understand? I leave London tomorrow and I'm never coming back."
A sob rose in her throat. It was so good to see him again. So good to feel his touch. "I can't."
He threw the soiled wet rag into the back of the wagon behind her. "You'll regret it the rest of your life if you don't."
She looked away, tears welling in her eyes. She wanted to go with him, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. She didn't want to marry. Marriage was a trap. She didn't want to leave Richard. He needed her.
She looked back at Gavin, unable to hide the misery in her voice. "I can't do it, Gavin. I can't go with you." She reached out to him, but he stepped back.
"The tide turns at ten in the morning. That's when I sail." He lifted a finger. "Be there."
She shook her head. "No."
He turned away from her and began to push his way through the crowd. "Be there, Ellen Scarlet. Be there and I'll take you to the Colonies. I'll make you my wife."
Tears ran down her cheeks. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't. I'm afraid." But Gavin didn't hear her. He was already gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Ellen tapped her fingernails on the mantel to the rhythm of the case clock on the far wall. Nine in the morning. In one hour Gavin would set sail from England, never to return again. In one hour he would be gone from her life forever. . . .
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the pounding of her heart that echoed the clock. The minutes were ticking by too quickly. She still had a choice right now. She could go with Gavin. She could go to the Maryland Colony and see his precious fields and forest. She could be his wife. But that possibility would only last this final hour and then it would be gone forever.
At the sound of Richard's footsteps, she unconsciously stood a little straighter. Somehow allowing him to know how unhappy she was seemed like a betrayal to him and the feelings she had for him.
Richard appeared from the hallway carrying her cloak and vizard, along with a small and a large bag, the latter one obviously filled with clothing. He already wore his own cloak and hat, his sword strapped to his waist.
Her brow creased. "Where are you going?" She glanced at her woolen cloak thrown over his shoulder. "Where are we going?"
"The wharf."
She knew she couldn't have heard him correctly. "The wharf?"
"An hour, Ellen. In one hour the ship sails and you're going to be on it."
She blinked, a little dazed. "Richard, I told him I wouldn't go. He's going to sail without me."
"Well, you can damned well tell him you changed your mind!" He tossed her cloak. "There's no time to pack. I threw a few women's things into the bags. I'll have your other belongings shipped. You'll just have to make do."
She caught her cloak in midair. "I can't go to the Colonies."
"You can and you will." He came to her to help her with her cloak. "Don't you see this is the way to escape it all? Waldron . . . Hunt . . . your past?"
"I can't marry Gavin without him knowing I killed his brother."
"Why not? You said yourself Gavin didn't know what sort of
beast his brother was. The man is dead, six feet under. Why tell Gavin the truth now? It will only hurt him. Let him hold on to his precious image of his brother and you hold on to the truth."
She shook her head in confusion. "I don't know. I just don't know if I could live the lie for the rest of my life."
"Look, he knows you have a past. But he said he didn't care. I heard the words from his own lips, and I think he means it." Richard paused, then spoke more softly. "Ellen, he loves you. Don't lose this opportunity. I'm telling you, it will never come again."
She suddenly threw herself into his arms, "Oh, Richard, couldn't you come with us?"
He laughed, smoothing her hair, kissing the top of her head. "Our time together has passed, sweetheart. You've survived your trials and it's time you were happy. You deserve more than I can ever give you."
She fought back tears as she hugged him tightly. He had been her savior, her rock for so long that she couldn't imagine living without him. Yet deep inside she felt a stir of excitement. To be with Gavin forever . . . it was a fairy tale that could suddenly come true. "But I'd miss you so much," she whispered.
"And I you." He took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back so that he could look at her. "You have to admit to yourself that your feelings for Gavin are different."
"But I love you, tool"
"I know you do, sweetheart. But it's not the same love, is it?"
She lowered her lashes. "No," she whispered.
He pulled her against him. "Ah, sweetheart, it's all right. This last year you've given me more than I had ever expected out of life. If I never experience a happy moment again, I'll still have all the memories." He kissed her forehead. "Now come, we'll have to hurry."
She looked up at him, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. "You really want me to go, don't you?"
"I want you to be happy."
She tied the ribbon of her cloak. "You could come to the Colonies and visit. You might like it so well that you decide to stay!"
"I might at that." He grabbed her bags. "Now we have to hurry!" He paused and then looked up at her. "Is there anything you want to take with you I might not have packed? Of course, you're free to leave anything behind."
Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity) Page 21