Once a Rebel

by Mary Jo Putney

  He realized with sharp awareness that however he and Callie defined the terms of their marriage, she would give meaning to his life. For so many years his life had been first about survival, and then later it was about solving intriguing problems for people who needed help. Some of those tasks counted as redemption for past sins, but it wasn’t the same kind of meaning that Callie brought to this marriage.

  How had he become so lucky?

  She reached the altar and gave him a smile to restart the heart that had almost forgotten to beat. He remembered the first time he’d met her, when she was a happy, fearless toddler. Even then he’d sensed that she was a girl in a million.

  So many memories. Begging food from the kitchens together. Heated discussions about books. Her screaming at her father not to kill him. Now that they were here at the altar, it all seemed somehow inevitable.

  With shining eyes she took his hand, they turned to Reverend Harbow, and became husband and wife.

  * * *

  Callie felt she should be more nervous given how dramatically her life had changed, but she couldn’t summon any worry. This was Richard, after all. There shouldn’t be any great surprises in their marriage, and that was good.

  He’d hired a private parlor in the Indian Queen Hotel for the wedding breakfast, which was more of a wedding luncheon. The food was good, though perhaps not as good as Sarah’s. But none of them should have to cook or clean up after a wedding feast.

  The talk and laughter went well into the afternoon, until Richard stood and raised his glass. “A toast to friends, and our thanks to you all for being here.” He looked each person in the eye, beginning and ending with Callie. Then he grinned. “Nothing but good times ahead!”

  He drank the toast amid much laughter, then set the glass down and took Callie’s arm, raising her to her feet. “I leave you to enjoy each other’s company for as long as you wish, but I’ve booked the honeymoon suite in this hotel for Callie and me. As fond as I am of those tobacco barrels, I don’t want to sleep with them tonight!”

  More laughter while Callie blushed. She suspected that everyone had known what mischief they’d been up to among the barrels. Richard said, “We’ll stop by the loft in the morning to say good-bye. And, Hawkins, we’ll join you on your dinghy in time to catch the tide.” Then he whisked Callie away.

  She took his arm as they headed toward the stairs that led to the hotel’s upper floors. “A genuine, proper bed? With no tobacco barrels? Such luxury, my lord!”

  He chuckled. “I’m not sure we’ll see such luxury again. Even though Hawkins is giving us his cabin, it’s compact and I’m not sure how large the bed is. And while my house in London is comfortable, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it luxurious.”

  “No matter.” The honeymoon suite was on the top floor along with the other suites. As they stepped from the stairway onto the deep carpet, she saw that a sizable mirror had been mounted on the wall opposite the top steps.

  She was startled by the image of a strikingly handsome couple before she recognized who it was. Of course Richard was handsome enough for any two people with his height, broad shoulders, and shining blond hair. The surprising part was that she looked his equal. Though not as beautiful as Richard, her image showed a confident, elegantly dressed woman who seemed a fit partner.

  The reflection was brief because he swept her by the mirror and unlocked the door to the honeymoon suite. It was on a corner with a sitting room and a bedroom visible through a door on the left, and it had many windows. “This would have been a fine place to watch the bombardment,” he observed.

  She entered the sitting room and crossed to a broad window that framed a splendid view over the harbor. “You’re right, we’re higher than the warehouse here and the star shape of the fort is very clear.” She turned with her back to the window and said, “We’ve already proved we’re compatible, so we can pass the time in other ways. A game of cards, perhaps?”

  He laughed as he swept her from her feet, a tawny lion in truth. “I’ve never found cards very interesting. But you, my Catkin, are endlessly fascinating.” He carried her into the bedroom and deposited her in the middle of the wide bed, following her down and kissing her as soon as they were both horizontal.

  When they came up for air, she gave a gurgle of laughter. “What a very fine bed this is!”

  “And I intend to make sure we don’t waste a minute of time with it.” He caught her around the waist and rolled onto his back with her on top. “Finally we’re legal!”

  She wriggled against him, finding the most comfortable place to lie. Their bodies fit together so well. As his hand found one breast, she said breathlessly, “Nothing that feels this good can be anything less than sinful!”

  “Sinful, maybe.” He nibbled along her neck, to melting effect. “But legally sinful.”

  Clothing started melting away under impatient fingers. Though there was no reason to rush, the first time they came together it was swift with the passion they’d repressed for the last days. Oh, yes, they were compatible . . . yesss!

  After, they lay naked under a sheet as they recovered. She loved that she had the right to touch him wherever and whenever she liked. She loved sharing a pillow with his face turned to hers, his gray eyes as clear and light-filled as quartz.

  “I think,” she said slowly, “that this marriage will be relatively easy to adjust to because we trust each other completely. Isn’t that a splendid foundation for marriage? When strangers marry, trust takes time to build.”

  “You speak from experience, I assume. I like that I don’t have to spend a lot of time guessing what you feel or what you want. It helps that you’re so admirably direct.” He toyed with her hair where it spilled over her shoulder. Clearly he liked the “touching wherever and whenever” part as much as she did. “Have you thought about what kind of life you’d like us to live, Callie? You know about the London house, but if you don’t like it, we can buy another.”

  “I expect I’ll like it very well,” she said immediately. “London is the beating heart of England, yet I know nothing of it. I shan’t grow bored any time soon!”

  “Would you like to have a country place as well? A manor not far from the city so we don’t have to spend a great deal of time traveling to and fro.”

  “I’d like that, but can we afford it?” She reached out a hand and ran it down his side, then paused as she found a scar on his upper arm. “Someone shot you?”

  “Only a little bit,” he assured her. Before she could ask what that meant, he went on. “As for what we can afford, you may recall I was always good at saving my money.”

  She suspected that was because he’d never been able to trust those around him, so he wanted to have his own resources to fall back on. “Yes, you even had elopement money when we needed it. I hadn’t had much experience with money then, but I’ve become fairly good at squeezing pennies till they squeak. Plus, eventually I’ll have my jointure from Matthew’s estate. That should augment our finances nicely.”

  “Remind me to get marriage settlements drawn up in London,” he said. “I thought of it when we were up to our ears in Baltimore lawyers, but settlements seemed less important than the inheritance issues.”

  “I thought the same.” Because she trusted him, marriage settlements really hadn’t seemed important. Though if they had children, it would matter then. The thought tingled all the way through her.

  “At any rate, I can afford a modest country manor. It will be fun looking for one.” He grinned. “I can become a country squire. Do you think I could be a magistrate, or would the authorities shrink back in horror?”

  “I think you’d make a good magistrate because you’re practical, not a rigid moralist,” she said thoughtfully. “Have you thought of standing for Parliament? You’d make a splendid MP since you’ve seen so much of the world.”

  He gave a shout of laughter. “You think I could join the handful of other rebels in the House of Commons and drive the traditionalists mad? I
t could be amusing, but no sensible constituency would adopt me as a candidate.”

  “Do you have any old school friends who control rotten boroughs?” she asked half seriously. “Maybe one of them would send you to Parliament if you’re interested.”

  He hesitated. “It’s an interesting thought for the future, perhaps, though given my reformist tendencies, I want to eliminate rotten boroughs. It’s not right for powerful men to put their own MPs into Parliament. But it’s true that I no longer have much interest in doing dubious missions for people willing to pay me well for fixing their problems. My investments have been successful enough that I needn’t do that sort of work anymore.”

  “Dubious missions like rescuing widows in war zones?” She smiled at him fondly. “I’m glad you didn’t give up that work sooner!”

  He caught her hand and held it. “So am I. But one thing I must do is balance the scales with people I’ve wronged in the past. I told you about sharing a cellar with other condemned men and all of us drunkenly considering ways to redeem ourselves if we survived. It’s time to make amends.”

  “Make peace with the past before moving into the future? That’s a fine idea.” She paused. “Does that include making peace with your father if he’s still alive?”

  “No.” It was said without hesitation. “Maybe with some of my brothers, but when I was young, I did nothing to deserve my father’s ill treatment. My bad behavior was a result of his. There’s nothing to redeem. But there were people who deserved better from me. Schoolmates. A headmistress.” He studied her face. “What about you? Do you have any issues from the past you feel the need to address?”

  “Apart from wringing the neck of the sister who betrayed our elopement to my father? I probably shouldn’t do that. Otherwise . . .” She sighed. “It’s been so many years. I have very few connections left.”

  “Then we’ll just have to build newer, better connections.” He leaned over and kissed her. Knowing that one thing would lead to another, she rolled so that her breasts were pressed to his chest. If this was pillow talk, she liked it very well indeed.

  * * *

  Farewells the next morning were every bit as emotional and soggy as Gordon expected. He wasn’t overly concerned about female tears as long as he hadn’t caused them, and he didn’t blame Callie and her adopted family for feeling profoundly emotional. This was the end of a significant time in all their lives. No matter how bright everyone’s future looked, this ending was also a profound loss.

  Hawkins and his crewman waited stoically in the dinghy. Gordon and Callie’s modest luggage had already been stowed aboard, and it was just a matter of waiting for Callie to be ready to leave.

  Being a wise woman, she didn’t drag the farewells out for very long. More tears wouldn’t make the goodbyes less painful. He was glad when she wiped her eyes and said, “It’s time, Richard.”

  “Yes. Just remember, we will return for a visit someday.” He did a swift round of handshakes with Josh and Trey and hugs with Sarah and Molly. Then he handed Callie down into the dinghy and Hawkins pushed the boat away from the pier.

  After one last wave, Callie resolutely faced forward, perched beside Gordon on one of the bench seats. “In true female fashion,” she said wryly, “I’m now thinking that with a red nose and eyes, I must look dreadful.”

  Gordon laughed. “You look adorable and about ten years old.”

  “I’m not sure that’s an improvement on dreadful.” She took hold of his hand. “How long do you think before we might return? It’s such a long journey.”

  “The day isn’t far off when steamships will be crossing the Atlantic,” he said. “They’ll be faster and safer than sailing ships.”

  Hawkins snorted, not interrupting his smooth rowing. “Ugly and smelly. Beastly things, steamships.”

  “I don’t entirely disagree with you,” Gordon admitted. “But having spent some time captaining a steamship, I think they are the way of the future.”

  Callie stared at him. “You were captain of a steamship? When did that happen?”

  “A year or two ago,” he replied. “I’m not a true blue water sailor like Hawkins here, but I know something of sailing and something about steam engines, so I helped out a friend who needed a captain while his steamship was doing trials in the Thames River.”

  “I am definitely starting a list of all the many things you’ve done!” she said. “I want to hear all about your steamship days while we’re sailing back to London. It will give us something to talk about.”

  He gave her a lazy, suggestive smile. “I don’t think we’ll get bored.”

  She returned a sultry, provocative smile that guaranteed there would be no boredom. And there wasn’t.

  Chapter 34

  The white cliffs of Dover, October 1814

  Callie clutched the railing of the Zephyr and gazed raptly at the broad swath of chalk cliffs ahead, a lump in her throat. “I’ve never seen the white cliffs before, but they’re so much a part of English lore that they say home to me. Did you ask Hawkins to return by this route so I could see the cliffs?”

  “The white cliffs were one reason for coming this way,” her husband—husband!—said. “I like seeing them, too. But the Westerfield Academy is just off the Dover road, and it’s a good place to start making amends.”

  Richard looped his arm around her shoulders, so she slid her arm around his waist with a happy sigh. They’d had the best honeymoon imaginable on this smooth, lovely voyage. Each day had been a little cooler as they headed north and east, but the notoriously chancy Atlantic had sent no storms. Though Hawkins’s bed wasn’t as large as the one at the Indian Queen Hotel, it had been entirely satisfactory.

  “That was your last school, wasn’t it? You were still a student there when we eloped, and of course you never went back.” She glanced at him askance and saw his nod. She was briefly distracted by how lovely his blond hair looked in a brisk sea breeze.

  Telling herself not to lose the thread of this discussion, she asked, “How badly did you behave at this particular school?”

  He shifted uneasily. “Well, I didn’t try to burn the place down, but I was angry and uncooperative and often skipped classes. I was rude and sometimes a bully, though luckily such behavior was always stopped very quickly. I’m told by one of my London acquaintances that I’m considered Lady Agnes Westerfield’s one failure.”

  She blinked. “That’s a distinction, but how could you be called that when you’re so lovely and reasonable?”

  He chuckled and tightened his arm on her shoulders. “A lot of years have passed. Not only have I changed, but you bring out the best in me, Catkin. I’m still quite capable of being an appalling person.”

  She thought of how terrifying he’d looked when he’d thundered up to her burning house, and decided she’d allow his point. “I look forward to meeting Lady Agnes. If she tries to beat you, I’ll fend her off.”

  “I don’t expect she will. She was a remarkably patient woman.” After a long pause, he said, “I’m not looking forward to seeing her again. But it seems the right thing to do.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Doing the right thing seems so boringly mature.”

  “Don’t you want to try everything at least once?” she said teasingly. He laughed, but she was glad that she’d be at his side when he faced this piece of his past.

  * * *

  The Westerfield Academy was a vast, rambling country house suitable to the daughter of a duke. As Gordon helped Callie from the coach he’d hired, he explained, “The house was part of Lady Agnes’s personal inheritance. She traveled all over the world when she was young. When she returned to England, she started the school to keep herself busy. I expect you know it’s for boys of good birth and bad behavior.”

  “I laugh whenever I hear that.” Callie took his arm and they headed toward the entrance to the right wing. “But what does it mean in practice?”

  “Her rather subversive goal is to help boys who don’t fit in learn to play the ga
mes of society without losing our souls.” He thought of his fellow students and how many of them had blossomed under her wise care. “She’s rather good at it, too.”

  “It sounds like the perfect place for you.” Callie cocked an ear. “I presume the screams coming from behind the house are playing fields rather than a massacre?”

  He knew she was trying to alleviate his nerves, but he couldn’t manage a smile. “Lady Agnes and her two partners are great believers in sport as a way of burning off youthful energy.” He rang the bell by the wide entrance door. “This wing is her personal living quarters. The rest of the house is the classrooms, and now there are living quarters behind for the boys. They were just starting to build them when I left.”

  It was only a couple of minutes before an elderly butler with an imperturbable expression opened the door. He looked familiar, but Gordon couldn’t put a name to him. “Sir. Madam.” He gave the slight bow due expensively dressed strangers. “How may I assist you?”

  “I’d like to see Lady Agnes if she’s available,” Gordon replied. “Tell her that the bad penny has returned.”

  Not batting an eyelash, the butler ushered them inside to a small salon on the right. “I shall see if her ladyship is available.”

  Callie settled calmly into a wing chair, but Gordon paced. He hoped Lady Agnes’s curiosity was piqued enough for her to see who was calling. She had treated him well, and he had not reciprocated. One would think he would be more comfortable with being in the wrong since he’d spent much of his youth in that state, but Lady Agnes was different. Her, he respected.

  After about five minutes, a firm step could be heard and Lady Agnes swept into the salon. Tall and authoritative, she was not a woman who would be overlooked anywhere. There was more silver in her hair than when he’d been in school, but she looked otherwise ageless. “I wonder which bad penny might this be.”

  Gordon moved into her line of sight and bowed, feeling the schoolboy fear of authority he’d always been good at concealing. “Lady Agnes.”