She could only stare.
“Should I have been firmer?”
She finally found speech and whispered, “You shouldn’t joke that way.”
“I wasn’t joking, by any means.”
She blinked.
“If he threatens you ever again you are to tell me.”
He was so overwhelming, for a second she thought she might fall. Why did this particular man affect her so?
“Faith? Are you unwell?”
She spun to find Ingram Trotter standing there looking between her and Nicholas with concern. “No. I mean, yes, Ingram. I’m fine. I just—”
Her eyes went back to Nicholas, who was viewing Ingram as if he were trespassing in his domain. “Ingram, this is Nicholas Grey. Nicholas, this is Ingram Trotter. He’s a lifelong friend.” She viewed Ingram fondly as he and Nicholas exchanged cool nods. “Mr. Grey aided me in a quarrelsome situation with Will Case. I didn’t see you come in.”
“I just arrived, but only to drop off a letter to the widow that I picked up for her in town. My apologies for missing your reception, Mr. Grey. My son is ill so my wife and I can’t take him out into the weather.”
“Understandable.”
The men continued to assess each other.
Ingram asked her, “Do you need assistance loading the wagon or anything before I go? It looks as if the party’s all but done.”
Faith opened her mouth to respond, only to hear Nicholas say smoothly, “I’ve already offered my assistance, Mr. Trotter. I’m sure you’d like to hurry home to your wife and child.”
Faith found herself staring at him once again. Not pleased with his actions at all, she told her friend, “I’ve everything in hand, Ingram. Thank you. Give my love to Charity and the baby. I hope he feels better soon.”
“Thank you.” After casting Nicholas a final glance, he left them.
In the silence after his departure, Faith told him, “You’re very adept at lying.”
“Only when I want my way.”
She studied him.
“How long have you loved him?” he asked.
Her eyes widened before she could stop them. How he was able to read her with such clarity, she didn’t know, but she was left shocked and irritated. “I have tasks needing my attention.”
And she stalked off.
If Faith thought she was done with him, she was mistaken. She’d just removed her apron when he entered the kitchen accompanied by Blythe, who said, “Nicholas has offered to help you load the wagon. Do you have anything he needs to carry out for you?”
Faith met his eyes and then spoke to Blythe. “No, most of the large pots we used were yours. I only have a small barrel holding the things I need to take back with me.”
“Where is it?” he asked.
“I can carry it.”
He waited.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “There,” she said, pointing at the barrel she’d placed by the door.
Blythe said, “All right. Let me go and say good-bye to the last of the guests. Be safe driving home, Faith, and thank you so very much again for your service today.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you at church tomorrow. When do you leave for New York?”
“Monday morning.”
“Ah. Have a good evening.”
Blythe smiled, waved, and left the kitchen.
Nicholas stood waiting at the back door.
She told him again, “I can manage the barrel.”
“So can I. Lead the way.”
Tight-lipped, she complied.
She’d parked her wagon near the stand of birch trees behind the house. He followed her across the muddy field and placed the barrel in the bed of the wagon.
“Thank you,” she offered crisply. “And thank you again for your rescue from Mr. Case. I need to get home.”
“I never took you for a fleeing woman.”
She stopped. “And I’m not.”
They were only a few inches apart and Faith swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. One part of her wanted to be kissed again and other parts were alarmed by the thought. He slowly and boldly reached out and gently raised her gaze to his. “I miss your kisses.”
It took all Faith had to keep from fainting dead away. “I think you are toying with me, Nicholas, and don’t believe I care for it.”
“I’m not toying with you, Faith. Why would I?”
She backed out of his hold so that she could think. “To play games with a country girl, to get back at my father. You choose.”
“And if neither applies, then what?”
“You tell me.”
Nicholas was enjoying this. “Then it has to be something else, say, attraction?”
“And again, I say that you are toying with me.”
“You don’t think I’m attracted to you?”
“You and Case, who’s sniffing around me as if I’m a bitch in heat, but the question becomes am I attracted in return?”
His eyes were lit with surprise. “There’s that tart tongue again.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled, finding her fascinating all over again. “And the answer to the question?”
She boldly met his challenge. “The answer is undoubtedly yes, I am attracted to you. However, I’m not silly enough to believe you’d do right by me, so that is that.”
Nicholas folded his arms over his chest. “Why wouldn’t I do right by you?”
“I’m twenty-six years old, and although untouched, hardly what society deems wife material, so that leaves scandal, and I value myself too highly to take on that role.”
Nicholas couldn’t remember ever meeting a more frank woman.
“Rebuttal?” she asked.
He had to admit he didn’t have one. Instead he reached into his coat and withdrew the small pouch holding the money she was owed for her work.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it from his hand, and began to make the walk around to the seat on the front of the wagon.
“Faith?”
She stopped and turned his way.
“This only heightens the attraction between us.”
“I know.”
While he watched, she climbed up onto the seat of the wagon and picked up the reins. He then asked, “How often do you take bread to John Hancock?”
Her face didn’t change. “Good day, Nicholas.”
She slapped the reins down over Susie’s back and drove away.
Nick watched her leave. He’d also wanted to ask her about the man named Trotter, but he was content to let her escape for now. Their mutual attraction would bring them together again soon enough.
Back at the inn, Faith placed the items she’d come home with in their proper places and tried to rid herself of Nicholas Grey. So he’d learned who lived in that house. She didn’t let that worry her because he had no proof that she was at Hancock’s for any reason other than the one she’d given him. What worried her more was that he’d been correct about their time together adding to the attraction she felt for him. It didn’t seem to matter to her inner self that she didn’t want to be attracted to him; it was there and rising each time she encountered him. She would just have to be more vigilant, if only because he hadn’t been able to dispute her claim that he wouldn’t do right by her. He’d probably left a trail of women in his wake and she had no desire to add her name to the undoubtedly extensive list. With her duties now done in the kitchen and everything put away, she left it and found her father seated at one of the tables in the dining room.
“How was the reception?” he asked.
“I spent most of my time in the kitchen but it seemed to go well.” She placed the bag of coins Nick had given her on the table. He immediately took it and began to count what was inside.
“Did you see Will?” he asked.
“Yes. It wasn’t a particularly nice encounter though. He grabbed me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because I took issue with him chasti
sing me.” She told him the rest of the story.
“Can’t have him putting his hand on you that way.”
“Nicholas Grey took exception to it as well.”
He looked suspicious. “Explain?”
So she did and ended by telling him about the threat he’d made to Will. “I told him it wasn’t right to make jokes like that.”
“And he said?”
“That he wasn’t joking.”
He sat up. “So, he’s as much a menace as his father.”
“He was protecting me. The only menace was Will.”
She could tell by his face that he didn’t agree and it angered her that he didn’t place her safety above all else. “I’m going to my room.”
“Grey is not for you.”
“I heard you the first time, Father.”
Faith entered her bedroom still caught by her mood. He was right but again she noted that her inner self insisted on responding in ways she couldn’t control. His touch set off a warmth in her blood that was as wondrous as it was disturbing. Having no mother and being a female of her times, she knew next to nothing about her body and how it performed, and according to society, being curious about such things would only place oneself on a fast wagon to hell. However, she knew this was lust, but she didn’t know how to make it stop. It was as if he’d touched off a small blaze inside her and each time they met it rose higher. She frowned. And how had he known about her lingering feelings for Ingram? Had it been so obvious? Oddly enough, during all the years she’d considered herself in love with him, she’d never felt this same heat. So what did that mean? Lust wasn’t something a good woman was supposed to feel, was it? And if she did, what kind of woman did that make her? Faith ran her hands over her eyes. She was making herself batty again. All that mattered was that she stay away from Nicholas Grey.
Chapter 10
Sunday morning, Faith and her father drove the wagon into Boston for church. They attended services with the Friends. Many members of the sect educated their slaves and freed them upon the age of eighteen. The members were also vocal in denouncing the continuation of the slave trade, they supported equal representation under the law for all, and the free Black community considered them friends indeed. However, that friendship only applied to the world outside Quaker churches. Inside, Blacks were set apart from the main congregation and made to sit in the small cramped balcony in the back of the sanctuary, a practice mirrored by most Christian churches throughout the colonies.
After the service, Faith and her father stood outside and talked with friends. Faith joined Blythe and a small group of ladies. Now that the weather was breaking, more people were able to venture out. Some in the congregation hadn’t seen each other since mid December when the snow began to fall in earnest, and were now pleased to be able to lay eyes upon their acquaintances and relatives.
Faith turned to say something to Blythe but froze at the sight of the redcoats marching up the street. They were six abreast, their bayoneted guns prominently displayed. From the length of the line of men trailing behind the officers there looked to be at least three hundred. As they marched, they sang a stanza from the British version of “Yankee Doodle.”
Yankee Doodle came to town
For to buy a flintlock.
We will tar and feather him—and so will we John Hancock!
It was an impressive show of force. On the walks in front of the shops, tavern, and homes, colonists stood watching with anger and contempt, while others hissed and booed. Her father, however, was beaming. He and a few other Tories began applauding the display, which only drew the ire of the colonists standing near, but Faith kept her face impassive as the King’s hated troops streamed by.
The captain in charge called a halt to the procession and the spectators looked on warily. No one knew why they’d stopped. Were they about to arrest someone? The answer lay in a liberty pole planted in the earth in front of a tavern. The poles were one of the symbolic signs of the rebellion. They varied in size and shape but all flew a standard upon which a variety of messages were written or embroidered. This one read RESIST! The officer walked over, snatched it out of the ground, then broke it over his thigh. Hisses and curses from those on the walks greeted the action, but he paid them no mind. After contemptuously tossing the pieces aside he signaled, and the march and singing taunts resumed.
Her father looked happy as a child at Christmas, but Faith knew this would be yet another mark against the King’s forces. After all, it was Sunday; not that wars cared, but the people did, and for the captain and his men to be strutting around on the Lord’s Day putting the rebels in their place made the British appear to be the godless heathens the opposition claimed them to be.
Once the troops had passed from sight, the congregation bade farewells to their friends and hastened to their vehicles for the journey home.
“Wasn’t that something to see?” her father asked excitedly. They were now on the outskirts of the city.
“It was,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear her lack of enthusiasm.
“Those rebels will rue the day they decided to tweak the King’s nose.”
And a very large nose it was indeed from what Faith understood. King George was the third Hanoverian king to wear the English crown, but only the first in his royal line to speak English.
Her father glanced over at her. “You do remember the soldier is coming for dinner this evening.”
“I do.” She wasn’t looking forward to it but she did remember.
“And you promised to be pleasant.”
“He isn’t going to ask for my hand.”
“And you promised to be pleasant.”
“I did promise and I will honor it.”
“Good,” he replied, sounding satisfied.
Later that afternoon, as Faith watched over the food cooking in various spots inside the big grate, she wondered if other women meeting a man for the first time had to cook the dinner themselves. One day before she died, she wanted to have a special meal cooked for her that was prepared by someone else’s hands. It would probably be her funeral dinner, she noted dryly and put the thoughts aside. She padded her hands with two towels and lifted the Dutch oven out of the ashes. Inside was a loaf of bread. Her special bread, made from meal, flour, and molasses. The recipe had won her much acclaim at the local fairs and it was said that no one made bread as tasty. However, molasses were getting harder and harder to come by due to the ongoing blockade of Boston Harbor by the British Navy. It was one of the first of the Intolerable Acts implemented by General Gage upon his return to the colony last year. Luckily she’d laid in a large stock before the blockade went into effect, so she had plenty on hand.
With the bread cooling and the hens on the spit, done roasting, Faith pulled her skirts free from her waistband, smoothed the wrinkles as best she could, and left the kitchen to be pleasant to Henri Giles.
Dinner went well. Giles played the perfect gentleman and her father refrained from asking the man to marry her before he took his seat at the table. Giles talked about living in Quebec and asked her father about his past.
“I was born in Jamaica to a slave mother and grew up working in the house. Her master liked how industrious I was, and when he left to return to England he took me with him as his manservant. As I aged, he promised to free me upon his death, and when he died, he did.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty or thereabouts. Came to the colonies a few months after the burial and been here since.”
Faith noted he’d left out meeting her mother and the marriage that resulted but she supposed her father felt that too personal a detail to reveal.
He added, though, “Lost Faith’s mother to the pox outbreak during the fifties, so she hasn’t had much female influence in her life.”
Giles looked Faith’s way. “It doesn’t seem to have affected her in a negative manner.”
Her father offered a smile. “Made the mistake of letting her learn. Haven’t been able t
o control her since.”
Giles asked Faith, “You can read?”
“Yes. A good number of colonial women can, although some people believe it a waste; after all, what use is a learned woman?”
Her father said warningly, “Faith.”
Giles was studying her as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.
Her father added a bit hastily, “I’m sure she’ll make some man a fine wife one day.”
But to Faith, Giles appeared as if he wasn’t sure he agreed. She sighed inwardly, but determined to remain pleasant, asked, “Can your sisters read and write?”
“No.”
“Ah,” was all she said.
“Although they have expressed a desire.”
“They are to be commended then.”
But he didn’t appear as if he agreed with that, either.
Inevitably the conversation turned to the chances of war becoming a reality.
Her father said, “We saw a column marching through the streets this morning. Made this old Tory heart beat proudly.”
Giles asked, “And you, Miss Kingston?”
“It was quite a sight,” she responded smoothly.
Her father said, “I’m hoping that Gage will just get on with it so that some semblance of normality can be restored. The ships holding the harbor have put a strain on everyone.”
“There are signs that something will happen soon. Once we arrest Hancock and a few others, the rabble may quiet down.”
Faith said, “I’d approve of normalcy. Will these arrests come soon?”
“From all indications, yes.”
She kept her face void of reaction. She assumed Hancock and the Sons were on the alert and taking precautions to prevent such a thing from happening, but she decided it was information that needed to be passed along to them. “Well, enough about war. Who’s ready for dessert?”
Both men were, so she stood. Giles chivalrously rose to his feet, and she inclined her head in acknowledgment. Her smiling father sat and watched.
While they ate the pudding she’d made for dessert, she had to admit Giles was handsome and looked very dashing in his uniform. His light-colored eyes reminded her of Ingram but he was much taller and more muscular. His build was more similar to Nicholas’s. Thinking about Nick opened the floodgates and she found herself comparing the two. Both were handsome, but Giles didn’t make her feel the heat that plagued her so when Nick was near. In fact, she wasn’t moved by Giles in any way. She wondered if that was because lust was reserved for dalliance and scandal and not for marriage. Having been very young when her mother died, Faith had no memories of how her parents interacted with each other, nor did she have any other married couples in her family. She’d heard of so-called love matches and it was her guess that Charity and Ingram’s marriage could be considered that, but she wasn’t privy to the private aspects of their life, either. For all her book learning, she was ignorant about how a man and a woman got along day to day, and she wasn’t sure if that was a hindrance or not, but considering she had little chance of being a wife, she supposed that ignorance didn’t matter. However, Giles was employed, handsome, and polite, and would undoubtedly be a good provider and husband to whomever he chose.
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