Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  "He wants you that badly?" Gavin's stormy green eyes met hers.

  Ellen looked away.

  "I can tell you where you're going!" Mrs. Spate came across the grass, her bare feet carrying her as fast as they could manage. "You go to my cousin Gelda's farm, that's where you go. It ain't but an hour's ride from here in the direction of London, but it's far enough off the road that won't nobody think to look for you there."

  Ellen looked up anxiously at Gavin, who held Richard on his horse with a steady hand. "Would that work? We could have a look at Richard's wound then!"

  Gavin looked away, then back at her. He burned to know why Hunt wanted her so badly. What had she done to him? Surely Hunt was involved in the dark secret she kept from him. But Gavin knew this was neither the time nor the place for that discussion. What mattered now was escape.

  "Ellen," he said gently, "I don't know that Richard will live another hour. He's bleeding profusely from his chest. He just can't take in any air. I can't, for the life of me, figure how he managed to fight as long as he did."

  "I guess we can't stay here," she answered softly, understanding he meant that at this point they needed to be more concerned with escaping than tending to a dying man, even if it was Richard.

  "No, we can't."

  "Then we'll go to Mrs. Spate's cousin's and stay there the night."

  Gavin shrugged his broad shoulders. "That's as good a plan as any. Mrs. Spate, if you'll tell us where your cousin's farm lies, we'll be on our way. I don't want the duke to see us speaking to you. I'll not have your family in danger because of us."

  "I can't tell you how to get there, my lord. I ain't good with directions, but my boy, Red Rob, he can take ye. I'm certain of it."

  "I don't know that that's a good idea, Mrs. Spate. It could be dangerous. It would be best if the boy stayed here in the village with you."

  Mrs. Spate walked up to Gavin's horse, unintimidated by his station or the size of the steed he sat on. "Beggin' your pardon, my lord, but I'm his mam. I know what's best for him. Let him take you, my lord. He'll see you get cared for right." She looked down at her bare feet, then back up at him. "Then I have to ask ye if you'll do me a favor in return."

  "What's that?"

  "Take my boy with ye to the new world."

  Gavin was astounded. "You want your son to go to the Colonies?"

  "He ain't got nothing here, my lord. No pap, no hope of ever ownin' land, no future. If you was to take him to the Colonies, he might have a chance to make something of himself." She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. "He might even make out well enough to bring his old mam and his brothers to the Colonies one day."

  Gavin studied the woman's plump face. "You understand the danger involved, not just between here and London, but crossing the ocean?"

  Mrs. Spate laid her hand on Gavin's broad one. "What I understand is that you're a good man . . . a good man that could give my boy a chance. One his pap never to give 'im. My Rob, he's a hard worker and he don't touch the liquor. He'd work loyal for you. I know he would. He looks up to ye. Wants to be like ye when he's grown."

  "I know he'd work hard. I just don't like the idea of taking him so far from home." Gavin squeezed her hand before she pulled it away.

  "He'll be fine. I swear he will. He's fourteen out. Nearly a man."

  Gavin looked up at Ellen. "What do you say, wife?"

  If their situation hadn't been so grave, Ellen would have smiled at his endearment. "I hate to take him from his mother, but he's a good boy. He might well be of great help to you on the plantation."

  Gavin indicated the thatched cottage with a nod of his head. "You heard my lady. Fetch your son, Mrs. Spate. We've no time to lose."

  While Mrs. Spate ran to get Rob, Ellen caught her horse's reins and came back to Gavin. "You're a good man, Lord Waxton," she said.

  He smoothed the top of her head in a lover's caress. "And you, my sweet, are blinded by your love for me. I'm not as gallant as you think. I'm like any other man. I try to do what's right. I fight the good fight."

  She caught his rough hand in hers and brushed it across her lips. "Say what you want. I know the truth of the matter."

  Just then Rob came running up to the horses, a feed sack of belongings thrown over his shoulder. His mother came hustling behind him. "I'm ready, my lord," Rob panted, out of breath. "I can show you the way to Aunt Gelda's, I swear it!"

  Gavin looked down from his horse at the red-haired boy. "Your mother told you that you're to go to America with me?"

  He bobbed his head with excitement. "Yes, my lord! It's what I've always wanted. I was gonna sell myself into indenture if I had to to get there!"

  "And you understand that we're to cross a great ocean . . . that you most likely will never see your brothers and mam again?"

  He glanced at his mother hesitantly, then back at Gavin. "I understand, my lord. But I want to go to the Colonies! I want to make my fortune."

  Gavin laughed at the boy's innocence. "There's hard work to be done in the Colonies. I'll have no laziness. You'll do my bidding or I'll ship you back to this shire on the first boat that leaves St. Mary's."

  He threw up his hand, crossing his heart. "I swear on my pap's grave I'll work hard day and night."

  "My boy ain't lazy," Mrs. Spate interjected. "You seen the work he done up at Havering House. You seen he's a good boy."

  "Very well. Help the lady up on to her horse and you jump up behind."

  Rob cupped his hands to give Ellen a boost. "Ah, no, my lord, I don't need to ride. I can run. It ain't that far."

  "We've no time to dally, boy. I said get on the lady's horse."

  Mrs. Spate reached out and rapped her son on the head. "You want the earl to feed you to the fishes halfway across the ocean? Do as you're told, son!"

  Rob turned to his mother. "Well, goodbye to you, then." He scuffed his bare foot in the dusty road.

  Mrs. Spate stood looking at her eldest son for a moment as he tried to be brave. "Goodbye, luv." She pulled him to her lumpy breast. When she spoke again, her voice was strained with emotion. "You make your mam proud, you hear me?"

  He lifted his head. "I hear ye." With a grin, he turned and leaped up on the back of Ellen's saddle.

  Mrs. Spate looked from Gavin to Ellen. "I got no words to thank ye both." She sniffed and wiped her nose on the corner of her apron. "You're good people to do this for the likes of us. I'll see to Haverin' House 'til it's sold, I swear I will."

  Gavin touched his temple with two fingers. "We have to be off, Mrs. Spate. No doubt the duke will be through the village in a matter of moments. Don't speak unless spoken to, and then deny you know anything. As for the others"—he nodded at the thatched cottages that made up the small village—"we'll just have to take our chances."

  "Oh, they won't say nuthin', my lord. Too scar't. People who's scared of ghosties is certain scared of a duke. I can promise you their jaws won't flap. Be frozen shut, they will."

  Gavin steadied Richard's unconscious body with one hand and lifted his reins with the other. "Get up!"

  Hunt's steed threw up its tail and leaped forward, racing down the road out of the village. Ellen sank her heels into her horse's flanks and raced to catch up.

  Just as Mrs. Spate had said, her cousin's farm was no more than an hour's ride, and Rob led Gavin and Ellen directly to it without any mishap.

  Gavin rode into the swept dirt yard. Chickens, ducks, and geese scattered as he leaped down from his horse. "Can you hold on, Chambray?" he murmured, close enough for only Richard to hear. He laced Richard's fingers through the horse's mane for him.

  "I can sit on a horse, Waxton!" Richard didn't have the energy to lift his head, but his voice was strong enough to be indignant.

  Gavin gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I'll be right back."

  Ellen led her gelding up beside Hunt's horse, and Rob leaped down. "I'll just run and get my aunt, my lord. It won't take but a minute."

  The boy sprinted across the y
ard and beat on the door of the farmer's cottage. It immediately swung open on its leather hinges. Rob and a peasant woman in her early forties, who looked much like Mrs. Spate, exchanged words. With an affirmative nod of her head, she came hustling across the yard, shaking her apron to send her fowl fleeing.

  She curtsied to both Gavin and Ellen. "Greetin's to you, my lord, my lady. The name's Gelda."

  Gavin nodded politely. "I suppose the boy's told you we need a safe place to rest the night."

  "That he has. You're more than welcome to the house. It ain't much, but the roof don't leak, I got no lice in my bedding, and my hare stew's the best in all Essex."

  "We don't want your house, Gelda," Ellen said as Gavin helped her down from her horse. "The barn will be fine." She indicated a small two-story frame and plaster structure nestled in a grove of fruit trees beyond the cottage.

  "An earl and a countess in the barn? Holy God, no! Don't worry none about us. My children and I'll get out of the house and leave you to your business. We can sleep in the barn. Slept in straw before, we have."

  "As have we, ma'am," Gavin said. "We thank you for your hospitality, but we prefer the barn. It will be safer for us as well as for you."

  Gelda looked at Gavin with uncertainty, but she nodded. "Well, Rob there can you show you to it. I'll fetch some blankets and stew." She nodded at Richard. "I take it the gentleman's ill. Is there something I can get him?"

  Ellen looked to Gavin at a loss, wondering what one did for a dying man.

  "Do you, by chance, have any strong drink?"

  The woman's eyes widened beneath her grey bangs. "Naught but some wine I made myself, I fear. It's just me and the children here, my lord. My husband done run out on me years back."

  Ellen laid her hand on Gelda's arm. "The wine will be fine. Thank you for your hospitality."

  Gelda smiled back, then turned to Rob. "Well, don't just stand there with your thumb pluggin' your nose, boy! See to their comfort! Take the horses and get them settled! There'll be a lamp and tinderbox on the shelf just inside the door. Clean straw for bedding be in the loft."

  "Yes, Aunt Gelda!" Rob grabbed Ellen's horse's reins and reached for Gavin's.

  "I'll take care of this one, boy. You just get that one fed and watered. He'll be needing a good rubdown as well."

  "Whatever you say, my lord!" Rob ran across the barnyard, pulling the gelding behind him at a trot.

  Later, when Gavin had the horses cared for and he had sent Rob to sleep inside the cottage with his aunt, he and Ellen knelt beside Richard in the thick, pungent straw.

  "Another sip of wine, Chambray?"

  Richard shook his head, too weak to take the effort to open his eyes. "It's not bad, Waxton, but most definitely not of French vintage." He tried to laugh at his own joke but began to cough violently.

  Ellen took a clean rag and wiped the blood and spittle from the corners of his mouth

  "Ellen?"

  "I'm right here, Richard. Tell me what you need."

  He smiled as his coughing ceased and he could again rest his head on the pillow Ellen had made for him with her bag of possessions. "I just wanted to hear your voice, sweet." He clenched and unclenched his fingers on one hand. "I can't hang on much longer for you, sweet. Can't breathe. Hold me?"

  "Don't say that. Don't say that, Richard. You're just tired." She lifted his head and scooted over so that she cradled it in her lap. Her hand found his. His touch was icy despite the number of blankets piled on top of him. He was cold to the very bone. "You'll be better in the morning. You know you will."

  "Waxton?"

  Gavin took his other hand.

  "In my shirtwaist." Richard paused for a long moment, trying to rally enough strength to speak again. "I want you to have it."

  Gavin lifted the blanket, now soaked with blood. From Richard's stained shirtwaist, he brought out the miniature portrait of Ellen. "It's beautiful," he whispered.

  "She is beautiful." Richard squeezed Ellen's hand. "So keep the trinket. I'll have no use for it in hell." He smiled. "Keep it and remember that she is who she is. She is who you know and love. Don't let anyone ever convince you otherwise." He exhaled, his chest rattling. "Not even her."

  Gavin looked at Ellen, confused by what Richard said. But dying men didn't always make sense. He'd seen enough to know that.

  "You could give me no greater gift, Chambray," Gavin said, tucking the miniature portrait into his own coat. "Nothing but Ellen herself, and that you've already given."

  "Take care of her, will you? She can get sassy on you, but don't pay that any mind."

  "I will care for her," Gavin responded solemnly as he held Richard's hand. "You know I will."

  Tears ran down Ellen's cheeks as she smoothed Richard's dark hair. By the light of the lamp, she could see how pale his face was. His chest now barely rose before it fell again. When Richard became silent, she squeezed his hand. "Richard?" She knew she bordered on the edge of hysteria. Richard had said he was dying. Gavin had said it, too. She knew it was going to happen, but she just wasn't ready to let go. Not yet.

  She didn't know if he could hear her now, but she spoke anyway. "Thank you," she murmured, bringing his cold knuckles to her lips, "for saving me that night on the road. For saving me not just from him, but from myself. For teaching me how to live again."

  Richard sucked in a deep breath. "Thank you," he whispered.

  She leaned over to hear his words that were barely audible now. "For what?" she murmured, fighting her tears. "I've done nothing for you. Nothing but try your nerves and spend your money," she finished, trying to make a joke. Richard always did love a joke.

  "Thank you for riding into my life that night," Richard told her. His eyes flickered open for just a moment, then closed. "Thank you . . ."

  She smoothed his handsome cheek. "Richard?"

  He inhaled slowly. "Thank you for just being there. You made me feel like a man again, if only for a while . . ."

  Ellen watched as his chest fell again. This time it didn't rise. Tears slipped from her eyes to fall on his face. "Richard?"

  "He's gone." Gavin said gently as he laid Richard's hand down. "He's dead, sweetheart."

  She shook her head. "No. Not Richard. I loved him."

  Gavin came around and tenderly lifted her up, resting Richard's head back on the pillow. He drew her into his lap to comfort her. "I know you loved him, but it's time to say goodbye now."

  Sobs wracked Ellen's body as she clung to Gavin. He smoothed her hair, holding her tightly in his arms. "It's all right, Ellen. It's going to be all right. I'm here. I'll protect you. You and your secret. I'll love you just as dearly as Richard did. I'll try my damnedest to love you more, if it's humanly possible."

  "Ah, Gavin . . . Why does life have to hurt so much?"

  "I don't know, lover." He rocked her in his arms as he imagined someday he would rock their child. "I just don't know."

  Finally, when her tears subsided, Ellen lifted her head from Gavin's broad shoulder to stare into his green eyes. He wiped her tear-stained face with his sleeve. "We need to get some sleep now," he said softly. "We'll deal with his body in a few hours."

  She sniffed, nodding. "Then on to London?"

  "Then on to London." He brushed his lips against hers and lay back in the straw, bringing her with him. "And on to Maryland, where you'll be my wife."

  Ellen laid her cheek on Gavin's shoulder and closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. So much had happened today that she was numb. "I love you, Gavin," she whispered.

  He kissed her forehead. "And I you. Now sleep, and I'll wake you in the morning. It will be a long, hard day of riding if we're to outsmart Hunt and make it to London. . . ."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ellen rested on her side on the bunk in Gavin's ship's cabin, her head cradled in her arm. The Maid Marion rocked gently as it sailed down the Thames, slipping out of reach of the Duke of Hunt and his soldiers.

  She closed her eyes wearily. She and Gavin had slep
t fitfully for a few hours that night in Gelda's barn. Then they had risen in the darkness and made arrangements with Gelda to have Richard's body buried in a little churchyard nearby. Gavin and Ellen had considered having his body transported back to his estate, where his mother resided, but for logistical reasons they decided against it. Besides, with no body to be found, Hunt would never know he had bested Richard. Ellen smiled to herself in the semidarkness of the cabin, snuggling beneath the coverlet. She knew Richard would have preferred it this way.

  With that matter settled, Ellen and Gavin had sped toward London and the refuge of the Maid Marion. Fearing the gates into the City were being watched by the duke's men, Gavin again gained his friend Zach's assistance and they sailed up to the wharfs on the fishing barge, under the cover of darkness.

  Ellen sighed, rolling onto her back. It seemed that after all these years, she was finally safe from Hunt.

  The cabin door opened and Gavin stepped in. "What are you doing still awake?" he inquired softly. He came to the rack and sat down on its edge. He brushed back a sweep of her long red hair. "I thought for certain you'd be sound asleep by now."

  She smiled up at him. "I was waiting for you. I think I've grown so used to sleeping in your arms that I just don't feel right without you."

  "Well, let me remedy that, then." He pulled off his boots and stood to remove his clothing. "Julius seems to have everything under control topside. He'll not be in need of me."

  Ellen pushed up on one elbow, pointing to the bird cage that hung from a rafter in the far corner of the tiny cabin. "Sir Gavin. How did he get here?"

  The parrot squawked at the mention of his name. "Sir Gavin! Sir Gavin! How did he get here? How did he get here?" Squawk!

  Gavin grabbed the cage cover from his chart table and dropped it over the bird. "If I have to listen to that from here to Maryland, I surely will be ready for Bedlam." He pulled his linen shirt over his head. "Julius had the good sense to go to your apartment when he reached London. There are two chests of clothing down in the hold. He paid your servants for the remainder of the year and sent them off to seek new employment with references from me." He shook his head. "I always said Julius made a better imitation of my signature than I did."