Once a Rebel

by Mary Jo Putney

  With samples in front of him, Richard started to practice writing in the same style, with particular attention to duplicating Matthew Newell’s signature. Callie asked, “Is it more difficult to copy his handwriting because you’re left-handed?”

  “Yes, but I am a very good forger,” he said, amusement in his gray eyes.

  “Someday you’ll have to explain how you became so skilled,” she said. “Perhaps when we’re sailing back to England and time lies heavy on our hands.”

  “Time will never hang heavy with you,” he said, his gaze reminding her of the earlier hours. “But sadly, I must concentrate on this. How shall we word the codicil?”

  Callie thought of the wording of the draft will she’d studied. “It should be short, just a few sentences specifying the disposition of Matthew’s estate ‘in the event my beloved son Henry Newell dies without spouse or issue.’ Except for individual bequests as outlined in his full will and testament, everything to be divided between ‘Mary Adams Newell, known as Molly, and Matthew Adams Newell, known as Trey.’ And I’m to be the sole guardian.”

  “That makes sense. The simpler, the better.” With content decided, Richard started work on a draft of the codicil. He’d already located writing paper of the type Matthew used, and the sheets waited for when he was ready to create the final version.

  Callie returned to her alterations. Since both their enterprises required good lamplight, they sat on opposite sides of the same table. She sewed on trim, he refined his forgery. Very domestic.

  When she needed a break, she set the gown aside and drifted into the kitchen area, where Sarah was making a large batch of biscuits in the simple oven Josh had built for her. Josh could build or improvise just about anything.

  The first sheet of biscuits had already come out, so Callie confiscated one, split it, and spread on the apple butter Sarah had made. The biscuit crumbled deliciously in her mouth with the taste of spiced apple setting off the crunchy texture of the crust. “I’m going to miss your cooking!”

  “I expect you’ll have a fancy French chef, but he won’t be able to match my biscuits,” Sarah agreed as she formed a double handful of biscuit dough into a ball, then gently patted it into a broad, flat circle. “But I’ll give you the recipe.”

  “Mine will never be as good.” Callie swiped another biscuit and lavished apple butter on it. “Now that the battle is over, it’s possible to think about the future again. I’m sure you and Josh have discussed what you want to do next. Will you stay in Baltimore?”

  “Yes, we want to start our own businesses,” Sarah said as she finished patting the dough to the right thickness on the floured board. “Josh will do carpentry and build things and I’ll run a cook shop. We’ll set up in a building large enough for both our businesses and we’ll live above. Josh has been looking around for a good location.”

  “You have it well worked out.” Callie felt a twinge that these plans had nothing to do with her, but they were going in different directions now. “What about visiting your son and his family?”

  “It’s not so far to Philadelphia. We’ll visit him or he and his family can visit us.” Sarah smiled and turned a glass upside down, using it to cut circles of biscuit dough. “Maybe we can lure him down here for good. We’ll see. We have a whole world of possibilities, and we owe it all to you.”

  Callie blushed a little and finished the last bite of biscuit. She had benefited even more from her foster family’s friendship. “Henry had quite a lot of money on him. Considering what he stole from you and his brother and sister, I think it should go to the Adams family to support this new phase of your life.”

  Sarah stopped cutting out biscuits, her eyes widening. “We figured that we’d be able to manage with what we’ve saved, but that money surely would make it easier for us. But what about your jointure? He stole from you, too.”

  “Eventually I’ll get what I’m owed, when Matthew’s will has gone through probate.” Callie grinned. “Between then and now, I’m marrying a man who says he can support me decently.”

  “I’m sure he can!” Sarah returned to cutting out biscuits and laying the circles of dough on an iron baking sheet.

  “What plans do Molly and Trey have?”

  “Molly has been practicing writing ‘Mrs. Peter Carroll, ’ ” Sarah said dryly. “If that doesn’t work out, after she’s finished crying her eyes out there will be other young men. I’ll keep her busy until she marries. You’ve trained her to be a fine seamstress. As for Trey, he’s thinking of reading law.”

  “Really? Peter Carroll is really having an influence on your family!”

  “He certainly is. Trey says that they discussed the law when their militia unit took breaks from drilling, and he found it very interesting. If he’s serious, we should be able to find someone he can read law with.”

  “I imagine that the militia will be discharged to return home soon, so the warehouse manager should be back here in the next few days, but he’s an amiable fellow. Since I’m more or less the owner of this warehouse, you can stay here until you find your new home.”

  “Before winter, I hope! This place would be like living in an ice house.”

  Callie was about to return to her alterations when the hanging bell clanged by the door that entered the loft. Josh had rigged a rope that ran from the street door to the top of the stairs so visitors could make their presence known. “I’ll go down and see who it is.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Richard rose and stretched. “I need a break.”

  “In case I need to be defended in the stairwell?” Callie said with a smile. Not that she minded having him with her.

  “Remember that a victory celebration is going on out there, which means some men will be drinking way too heavily,” he said seriously. “If a couple of drunks have noticed that three beautiful women live up here, it is indeed possible that you might need protection in your own stairwell.”

  Sarah stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Three beautiful women? Thank you, Lord George!”

  Her tone was laughing, but his was serious when he crossed to Sarah and kissed her cheek. “You are beautiful, Sarah. I hope Josh tells you that regularly.”

  Under her dark skin, Sarah blushed. “He does!”

  As Callie and Richard headed down the steps, she said, “You’d best be careful, Richard. You’re turning into a really nice man.”

  “Heaven forbid!” he said with mock horror. “I’ll make a point of practicing my bad temper.” He smiled down at her. “But that won’t happen until memories of this morning fade. It could be quite a while.”

  This time it was Callie who blushed.

  She opened the door to the street to find a young militiaman. He asked, “Are you Mrs. Newell?” When she nodded, he continued, “Peter Carroll sent me with a message. The British Army troops withdrew in the middle of the night without attacking the American fortifications, and they’re being loaded onto Royal Navy ships to sail away. He wanted to assure Miss Molly Adams that he’s well and will call on her as soon as he is released from duty.”

  “Wonderful news! Thank you,” Callie said warmly. “Can I offer you refreshments?”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but I live nearby and I have to show my mother that I’m safe and sound,” he said with a grin. He tipped his hat and went on his way.

  Richard closed the door. “Your feeling this morning was right. It’s really over. Shall we visit the local churches tomorrow and see how quickly one can marry us? I’m reasonably confident we can find a vicar or minister who won’t insist on reading the banns.” He smiled wickedly. “I don’t want to wait any longer than absolutely necessary.”

  “I couldn’t agree more!” The light was better in the stairwell now, since Josh had installed a tall window above.

  Richard was watching her, his gaze intent and his fingers ink stained. “There are other reasons for coming down with you apart from protection.” He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. “The opportunity to steal a
kiss, for example.”

  She moved eagerly into his embrace, pressing her body full length against his. “Can you steal a kiss when it’s given freely?”

  “A philosophical point I shall ponder at some later time,” he said huskily before his mouth closed over hers.

  She hadn’t known a simple kiss could be so intoxicating. Of course, this one wasn’t simple. Their tongues touched, they breathed each other’s air. His skilled hand kneaded her backside, pulling her more closely against him.

  She was delighted to feel solid proof of his arousal. She slid her hand between them and squeezed. He caught his breath and she found herself with her back pressed to the wall and his hand moving up her thigh. Then between her legs . . .

  She moaned as he lifted her and wrapped a leg around his hips. So swift a joining. So sudden and shattering a culmination. Their bodies clashed in ecstasy and once again she lost all sense of who and where she was as she spiraled into pure sensation with him. Better together than apart . . .

  Awareness returned when Richard exhaled roughly and gently returned her feet to the ground, panting, “I really intended not to do this again until we’re properly married and have a real bed!”

  She gave a choke of laughter. “I now understand why marriage has such enduring popularity. How long does this honeymoon phase last?”

  “Given that we aren’t even married yet, I think we have much time to look forward to. Years.” He kissed her ear. “Decades.”

  They stayed in each other’s arms as they recovered. With release came a startling new thought. “Since I wasn’t interested in marrying again, it hadn’t occurred to me that I might have children of my own,” Callie whispered. “How would you feel about that?”

  He lifted his head from hers and was quiet for so long that she became worried. “Richard? It might not happen. It didn’t in my first marriage. If you hate the idea, there are things that can be done to prevent babies.” Though it might already be too late for precautions.

  He hugged her reassuringly. “I don’t hate the idea. Even more than you, though, I never thought that I might have children. But . . . I like the idea. Having children with you.” His eyes narrowed. “In fact, I like this idea very much. Only we would raise them better than we were raised.”

  “I would hope so!” she exclaimed. “We’re intelligent people. We can work out how to be better parents than ours were.”

  “That’s a low standard,” he said with a breath of humor. “Let’s aim to be as good as Josh and Sarah. I doubt we’ll achieve that, but it’s a good goal to aim for.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and they started up the stairs. “Tomorrow we work on the details of getting married. A church, a vicar, and a jewelry shop to buy a ring.”

  “To buy two rings,” she said firmly. “Why should women be the only ones marked as taken?”

  He laughed. “That’s a fair point. Two rings, then.”

  “How will we get back to England? Do you think Hawkins will come for us?”

  “Yes, if he can. He’s an honorable fellow. After the news that Baltimore has held out against the British reaches St. Michaels, he’ll surely sail up here. His ship repairs should be done by now.” Richard shrugged. “And if for some reason he can’t return for us, we’ll find another way home.”

  Home to England with her best friend beside her. How did she get so lucky?

  Chapter 31

  The next two days convinced Gordon that he was going to like being married. He’d always loved Callie’s company, and having her beside him was like their childhood except that instead of catching frogs or riding hell-for-leather, they were organizing a wedding and occasionally stealing secret kisses.

  Their first stop was a jeweler and goldsmith, Mr. Tate. When they entered his shop, he was setting trays containing jewelry on the counter. “Good day!” he said cheerfully. “As you can see, I’m just reopening after removing my business from the city for the last unfortunate fortnight.”

  “Battles are bad for business,” Gordon agreed. Particularly for a business that dealt in small, valuable, easily looted items. “I hope you’ll be able to give us swift service on a pair of matched wedding rings.”

  “Plain gold bands,” Callie said, giving Gordon a mischievous glance. She was looking particularly ravishing this morning with her apricot hair set off by a simple but beautifully fitted dark blue morning gown. “Inside the man’s ring that I’ll give my husband, I’d like you to engrave ‘My Lionheart.’ ”

  Gordon grinned. “In that case, inside the ring for my lady, please engrave ‘My Catkin.’ ”

  Mr. Tate blinked but recovered quickly. “Please write out the spelling that you wish. Very forward thinking of you to exchange rings. I do believe that it may be a coming fashion.” He smiled. “Naturally it’s a trend I approve of. Let me show you a few versions of a plain gold band, and then I’ll get your sizes. I can have the rings ready tomorrow, if you like.”

  “That would be excellent.” Gordon was about to put a deposit on the rings when he noticed a tray of earrings on the counter. One pair was golden topazes dangling on delicate gold wires. He lifted one out and admired how the sunlight sparkled through the faceted gems. He glanced at Callie. “Do you like these? I haven’t given you a proper engagement present.”

  “You don’t have to give me anything. It’s enough that you said yes when I proposed to you.” Nonetheless, she picked up the other earring and held it by her ear as she looked into a small mirror on the counter. “But these are lovely.”

  For three years she’d been supporting a household of five people with never any money to spare. He had a sudden powerful urge to spoil her. “The gold matches your eyes. How much are the earrings, Mr. Tate?”

  The negotiation was quick and satisfying for both parties. Callie slipped the gold wires in her ears, then rose on tiptoes to kiss Gordon’s cheek. “No one has ever taken such good care of me,” she whispered. “And sometimes even the most independent of women wants to be taken care of.”

  Feeling ridiculously pleased, he kissed back more thoroughly while Mr. Tate tactfully ignored them and wrote up an invoice.

  Then, laughing, he and Callie left arm in arm. He hadn’t laughed so much since their doomed elopement. Callie had always been able to make him laugh and feel good about life, and now that she was no longer tight with worry over war, her responsibilities to her foster family, or fear of being found by Henry Newell, she was her bright, happy self again—Callie, but enriched by fifteen more years of maturity and worldly wisdom.

  Yes, he had his best friend back, and the prospect of sharing a bed with her for as long as they both should live was insanely appealing. But for now, he avoided being alone with her in any stair wells since they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She deserved a proper bed, and that was only a few days away.

  The vicar of St. Paul’s had agreed readily to a swift wedding. Harbow had lived many years in Maryland, but he was English born and still capable of being impressed by the fact that Gordon was the son of a marquess. He was also male enough to understand why a man would want to get Callie into his bed as soon as possible.

  With church and wedding rings secured, the whole loft family went hunting for premises for the Adamses’ new home and businesses. Even Trey joined in, since the bullet wound in his left leg was healing so well he barely needed a cane.

  On the afternoon of the second day, they found the perfect place. A spacious building on Charles Street, in the center of the city, it was only a few blocks from the waterfront. The current owner was a barrel maker, so the large backyard already had a woodworking shed and storage space.

  Sarah loved the long kitchen and immediately decided where to place the large oven she would need for her cook shop. The building was in sound condition and the living quarters above were roomy and comfortable. The present owner had decided he wanted to move out of the city, so he was willing to take a bargain price in return for a quick transaction. Henry’s money would cover the pur
chase price handily.

  After, Gordon bought everyone a celebration dinner at the grandest of the city’s taverns. Before they began to eat, he offered a toast. “To future happiness and satisfaction for us all, and no more wars!”

  Everyone laughed and drank to that. As he looked around the circle of faces, he realized how much he would miss the Adamses. In a mere fortnight, they’d become like family. No, rather better than his own family. The six of them had been bonded by the shared experiences of war, and it was a bond they would never forget.

  He raised his glass for a second toast. “We will all meet again, I promise you!”

  “I will happily drink to that!” Josh said as they raised their glasses once more.

  No one drank to excess, but they were all merry as they left the tavern and made their way back to the warehouse, two blocks away. It was already dark, but the streets were full of muddy, happy militiamen who had been released from their positions on Hampstead Hill and were now celebrating.

  The mood was bright and Gordon and Callie brought up the rear of their small group, holding hands. When they reached the warehouse, a figure was pulling at the door rope and looking up hopefully. Molly recognized him first. “Peter!”

  She bolted toward him in a most unladylike fashion, and he caught her in his arms with a kiss. “Molly!”

  Ending the kiss but keeping his arm around Molly, Peter turned and greeted the others. “I’m glad to see you all. I wanted to assure Molly of my safety, and I have some news for you, Mrs. Newell.”

  “Come upstairs and tell me there, Peter,” she said as Josh unlocked the door, which now had a new and much more secure lock. “We’ve just come from dinner, but if you’d like something to eat, there is always fine food in Sarah’s kitchen!”

  “That would be splendid, ma’am.” His gaze went to Molly again. The lad was seriously smitten, and so was the lass.

  Josh lit a lantern in the short passage at the bottom of the stairs and guided them up. The door at the top had also been rebuilt more sturdily and with a new lock.