Washington forgot his immaculate blue and buff uniform. His arms enfolded her and one big hand patted her hair.
"Meagan Sayers, if it were anyone but you, I would name this episode a trick of my old mind!"
Chapter Thirty-eight
Wong scurried along the paneled hallways, his ears tuned to any sound that might warn of his employer's approach. When a tall kitchen maid rounded a corner in front of him, Wong skidded into the nearest bedchamber without a second thought.
In all the time Wong had known Lion Hampshire, he had seen him forbiddingly angry on many occasions, but this mood was something else again. Always, one could feel safe in the knowledge that the core of the man was good and there was no room for cruelty in his nature.
But this person, born during last night, seemed terrifyingly alien. All the power that Lion usually kept under tight control had been released; his steely body emanated currents of danger that Wong felt as tangibly as his own alarmed heartbeat.
Lion's menacing, black mood was rooted in unbearable pain. Even Bramble was ready to admit that he must have truly loved Meagan to be so devastated by this loss. He was like a great wild animal, now mortally wounded and capable of striking out at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.
The unnerving sound of Lion pacing in his bedchamber could be heard at frequent intervals all night long. Neither Wong nor Bramble had slept either. Lion had kept them up until nearly three o'clock with a barrage of questions, repeating himself as if his mental powers had been crippled. Then, the other servants had been roused, even the ones who had left before Lion to go to Gray's Garden.
Bramble, immune to fear, admitted from the start that Meagan had told them good-bye, that Wong and she had watched the girl's breeches-clad figure disappear into the stables. Meagan had not revealed either her destination or mode of transportation.
Lion released a stormy tide of verbal abuse, yelling at them for allowing her to go in a dozen different ways. Bramble stared back stoically, but Wong began to quake in his chair and his slanted eyes widened to a point that would not have seemed possible. Grasping for a straw that might save him, he had remembered the visit of Kevin Brown that morning. Perhaps, he squeaked, there was a clue?
And so, by dawn, Brown had been delivered to the house on Pine Street. Wong paused now outside the library door, listening fearfully to be certain not only that the two men were still conferring, but that Brown was safe.
Inside, Lion strode around the room, unable to sit down. Kevin occupied a brocade wing chair, but sprang up and down throughout their conversation.
His own elfin face was lined with real concern and something akin to surprise. It had never occurred to him that his former captain, the consummate rake, could have actually fallen in love with Meagan.
"I can't believe that she put so little value on herself!" Lion was shouting. "You say that she reached the conclusion the country needed me most?" He paused, raking a lean hand through his fair hair for what seemed like the hundredth time, then turned back to Brown, ready for the story's finish. "Tell me then—you left her to go after a chaise and a boy to drive it—"
"It seems she panicked, or never intended to wait at all. By the time I got back here, she'd taken her horse and gone on her way. I went to the house to ask what had happened, but everyone was off to Gray's Garden except for some paper-brained chit stirring the stew."
Lion crossed the room to grip Brown's arm. "Do you mean that she's alone on Heaven? She's been out there all night?" His head turned to the window where a light rain drummed the panes. Backing up against his kneehole desk, he let his knees go as he sat on the edge. Fiercely, he tried to clear his mind and think, but it was as if a fire had been lit behind his eyes. A scalding tear escaped to trace the chiseled lines of his cheekbone and jaw. "Sweet Jesus, what have I done?"
***
"Clarissa, this had better be important! I do not have time for any more scheming conversations with you." Marcus stalked into his study, where Clarissa waited, perched on the edge of a fashionable Hepplewhite easy chair. "I told you night before last that you would have to engineer the rest of your plans without my assistance. Priscilla has me rushing toward the altar at full tilt."
"I hope you are enjoying yourself, Marcus dear, after working so hard for this!" She smiled archly. "Let me assure you that I have everything under control. Your information was more than enough help!"
In the act of pouring himself a brandy, Marcus looked back at Clarissa curiously. "What have you done with the girl?"
"She is out in the Delaware River—without a boat, of course!"
His black eyebrows went up. "Rather drastic measures, eh?"
"I wanted to leave no room for error this time. That wench was far too crafty. At any rate, the deed is done, so further discussion is a waste of time." Her perfect pink and white face was pinched, the sky-blue eyes flinty. "The swine I hired to do her in have returned for the remainder of their payment, and more. That is why I am here. They have a ring that they claim she wore; the chit said it was originally a possession of Lion's mother and begged them to leave it to her. It does have his surname inscribed in the band, and it is set with several small rubies. They want me to buy it from them, at a horrible price, to ensure it won't 'fall into the wrong hands.' "
"Are you asking for a loan?" Marcus inquired coldly.
"Yes."
"Done. Now, I am due at Mansion House. Is there anything else?"
"Only my dilemma of how to leak the news of the girl's death—without casting Lion's suspicions on you or me. They said the river had a strong current and she was taken off at once, so there is no chance of anyone discovering the body, as I had hoped..."
Marcus was counting money at his desk, obviously in a hurry. "You are not as clever as you insist, my dear. Send the men to the servants' entrance of Mansion House where they may beg a meal and tell their tale to Smith. Let them take the girl's horse to show and say they saw her thrown from its back into the river last night. Swept away by the current. The ever-good Smith will undoubtedly take over from there." He leaned across the desk to hand her a small leather pouch bulging with guineas. "You may wait until you become Mistress Hampshire to repay me. In the meantime, it would behoove both of us to avoid one another, don't you agree? Especially with the death of the girl —suspicion is one thing we can do without."
***
Marcus's improvised strategy worked with such smooth efficiency that even Clarissa was astounded at how well things were going. Except for the ruby ring, there had not been a single tangle in her design.
Seated at her graceful dressing table, she replaced the top on her orange flower water while regarding her flawless reflection in the mirror. Every blond curl was in place. She practiced the smile that had always entranced Lion and adjusted her décolletage so that just enough white flesh was revealed.
It was April twenty-third. Clarissa had suffered through two torturous days since Lion had been told of Meagan's death, waiting until the perfect moment to approach him. Now she could not take the chance of letting another hour pass in case he should suddenly leave for New York to seek solace in the celebrations there.
Carefully, she felt into the corner of her jewel case to be certain that the dearly bought ruby ring was safe. Then, she unfolded the letter delivered that morning by Marcus's disguised valet, and reread it.
11 o'clock April 22, 1789
Tomorrow, I shall be married. That knowledge, combined with brandy, has softened me sufficiently to compose one last message to you. I feel compelled to relay any new information to you, since your failure and discovery could lead to my own. (I have an idea that you would like company in your descent.)
Events proceed splendidly. As I understand, your two "swine" carried off their performance at Mansion House quite convincingly. (Thank God for Bramble's transfer! She would have closed the door on their snouts.) A grief-stricken Smith heard them out, then identified the filly. Wickham extracted Brown from the Bunch of Grape
s where he was deep into ale and winning at Pharaoh, and proceeded to destroy his jolly little world. (Yes, he was enamored of the girl as well!) Brown delivered the news to Lion. It seems he is taking it very hard; Smith goes over regularly, for the situation appears rather desperate. The servants are actually frightened of him though he's spent the better part of the past thirty-six hours closed up in one room or another. Bramble is telling anyone who will listen that Lion has become more beast than man.
Doubtless, that is not the reaction you hoped for, but it rather satisfies me.
Priscilla and I shall be leaving the twenty-fifth for New York. She wishes to begin our marriage at the estate I've just purchased above Woodlands, so I shall indulge her, however briefly. I want to allow at least two days in New York before the inauguration.
Perhaps, if this astonishing good fortune continues, we shall meet there, both enjoying the first week of wedded bliss. I remain, in spirit—
Your Obed. Servant.
M.
Clarissa folded the letter and wedged it into a compartment inside her dressing table. Her face was serene with confidence in her one talent—enchantment of the male animal, the most splendid of which was Lion Hampshire.
No matter how bewitched he had been by that kitchen wench, Lion had never been a man who bemoaned the past. He would be ready to pull himself together, which meant he'd crave a female to warm his empty bed. Clarissa meant to be in the right place at the right time.
Wong was close to hysteria as he tried to stop Clarissa Claussen from ascending the stairs.
"Please, missy! He say he no see anybody! He kill us both if you go in. Oh, please!"
She ignored him. On the tenth step, Wong reached wildly for her skirt, and Clarissa turned to deliver a savage blow with the flat side of her hand. Wong, already frantic, stumbled and fell against the stair rails. By the time he recovered his equilibrium, Clarissa had reached the top step and was turning down the hall.
She knocked, receiving an angry growl in response. Obviously, the man was in no mood for company, but it was up to her to remind him of what he was missing.
Lion tensed, instantly erect, when the door to his bedchamber opened the first inch. He had been staring out the window at the garden below, but his mood switched from pensive to hostile in the space of a heartbeat.
Clarissa stood on the threshold, a vision in ivory and peacock blue. Her rosebud mouth smiled.
"Get out" was Lion's terse greeting.
She made a moue, widened her sky-blue eyes, and inhaled slowly so that her breasts swelled temptingly above her neckline.
"Get out!" Sparks began to flash in his eyes; tendons stood out on his neck. Clarissa felt a sharp twinge between her legs at the sight of him outlined in sunshine and she burned with passions that she longed to channel in the right direction.
"Darling, I know you need me now, even though you aren't aware of it yourself. Your fiancée has been stolen from you and—you've lost a—a mistress—"
That brought him to her side, but the expression on his dark face gave her true cause for alarm. He gripped her arm to the bone. "Shut your mouth and get out of my house!"
Clarissa tried tears next. "Oh, Lion, I am only trying to help! Can't you see you need me? I can make you well again, I know I can. Please—"
Lion shook her off savagely, causing Clarissa to fall on the bed, and headed toward the wardrobe. "When a man cannot find peace in his own home, the time is come for a change of scene! Excuse me while I pack; Wong will show you the door."
As he pulled clothing out, piling the random choices on the nearest chair, Clarissa was struggling to rise from where she had landed.
"No! You cannot ignore me this way! I know you want me as much as I want you! Oh, Lion, don't you know I haven't slept through a night since we parted because of my need for you?"
He brushed past her on his way to the bureau, not even glancing in her direction.
The pink and white face grew flushed; the sky-blue eyes became cloudy. "You imbecile! Do you think you can deny your true feelings to me? Listen to me! Look at me!" She was back at his elbow, breathing in gasps of rage. "Would you deny that you have missed my body?" Feverishly, she tore at the hooks on her bodice to expose her shaking breasts, but Lion seemed completely oblivious. When Clarissa clawed at his coat with her long fingernails and pressed her naked flesh against his arms and wide back, he finally looked down, but his expression was one of sickened fury. "Get away from me!"
Before Clarissa could remember to fight, she had been literally pitched into the hallway, where she collided with a thud against the far wall. The door slammed, and her tears began in earnest.
"I will show you, Lion Hampshire. The day will come when you beg for my body and for my forgiveness! I will become your wife!"
Chapter Thirty-nine
To the females who were acquainted with George Washington, his chivalrous nature was legendary. He loved women, with restraint, and showed to them the most charming aspects of his personality.
Meagan knew that she could not have encountered a more ideal rescuer, for in spite of the conspicuous, paradelike nature of this journey, he never considered deserting her. She explained, in the sketchiest of terms, what had befallen her since Christmas, revealing little more than the fact that she had gone with Priscilla to escape Aunt Agatha. Washington tactfully refrained from pressing the issue. He had known Meagan all her life and had been shocked by her antics in the past just as he been enchanted. Never for a moment did he question the quality of her character, not even now.
David Humphreys was given the job of blending Meagan into the scenery. This was fraught with risks, for there were no women included in the entourage and it would be a catastrophe if she were discovered. Humphreys transformed her into his valet. They sneaked her into the inn at Princeton that first day and sent her one suit of clothes out to be cleaned. The next morning, Humphreys labored to make her look as boyish and inconspicuous as possible; even General Washington stopped in to approve the disguise.
Meagan looked adorable, just as she had the first time she donned the suit to go shopping with Lion, but they planned to use her size to advantage by keeping her hidden behind the other men. Charles Thomson agreed that discovery was unlikely, if only because everyone's eyes would be riveted on the idolized President-elect.
The morning of the twenty-third found Meagan in Elizabeth Town, peering around corners at the hotel of Samuel Smith in search of her shield—Colonel Humphreys. The men had just returned from Boxwood Hall and a meeting of the Committee of Congress, and were ready to embark on the fifteen-mile journey by water that would bring them to Manhattan Island.
Through a window, Meagan could see the distinguished-looking crowd that milled about in the spring sunshine, but there was no sign of David Humphreys. She was about to creep into the next room when a hand caught her elbow and spun her around. Meagan swallowed a startled cry at the sight of her tall protector.
"I was beginning to fear that you had forgotten me!" she exclaimed in relief.
Humphreys smiled. He was an attractive man with almost beautiful eyes and mouth, a prominent nose, and neatly arranged gray hair which curled naturally. Meagan thought he looked splendid in his buff and blue uniform.
"Little elf, you would be most difficult to forget!"
"Well, it is almost time to leave, and I haven't the faintest notion what I'm to do!"
"All is arranged. The General has given this a great deal of thought, as you know. I opted for the Hamiltons—"
"Do you mean as my final destination?" she queried, eyes twinkling. Humphreys was amused as well.
"Yes. The idea is to find a wife who has a temperament sufficiently capricious to accept this insanity. And, of course, most of the men who have just moved to New York as part of the new government have not brought their wives in yet. So that narrowed the field down to a family already settled in the city. The General resists the Hamiltons, since he and Alexander are rather on the outs, so the final
decision is to put you with John and Sarah Jay. At your age, she nearly matched you in enthusiasm and impulsiveness, so you should be great friends.
"Jay is here now, as part of the escort from New York, and the General has discussed the matter with him. He assures us that his wife will welcome you with open arms."
"And later...?"
"There's no need to worry about the future, Meagan. Just relax and enjoy yourself, and when things quiet down after the inauguration, we can all decide what to do next." He smiled reassuringly. "You know how the General loves children. Perhaps after Mrs. Washington arrives, they will have you come to live with them!"
Meagan looked bleak. "The only problem is that I am no longer a child!"
***
It was a long day. Meagan had grown accustomed to the extravagant displays of adulation that met General Washington at every bend in the road, but the journey by barge to New York outdid all the rest.
The custom-built barge was grand, complete with an awning festooned with red curtains and the thirteen identically dressed harbor pilots who manned the oars. As it started out through Kill van Kull into the bay, a naval parade formed behind. Meagan was deposited on a boat with John Jay and Henry Knox, though they were generally too preoccupied to pay much attention to her. Mr. Jay had the look of an aristocrat; a slender build, long chin, hawk nose, and arching eyebrows. He was polite when introduced to Meagan, but she thought him aloof, even forbidding, and hoped his manner did not reflect the way he felt about taking her into his home.
Dressed in her breeches, it seemed a wise idea to stand off to one side and keep quiet. She watched General Washington's barge progress toward Staten Island as more and more boats came out to crowd the water. At one point, cannon began to fire a thirteen-gun salute from a Spanish ship-of-war and banners spiraled out on dozens of boats. Answering shots boomed from the far-off shore. A sloop sailed alongside the barge so that four of its passengers faced the General, whereupon they began singing to the tune of "God Save the King":
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