“I want to know what happened, Bess. What did Andrew say?”
She did not look at me as she started speaking. “When I read that letter addressed to me from the Holy Order, I thought it was a cruel jest, but then Andrew came around the corner, and I knew they were only beginning.
“Andrew could say nothing, and the look on his face told me that our future was no more, but I had to try. So I told him about papa forming the Phantoms; I told him that I had no other choice, assuring him that Henry had been on our side and that I had nothing to do with his murder. Andrew was relieved, but when I reached out to him, he recoiled.
“He told me he would escort me home and that he would have someone see to the body. I made the mistake of saying I had people that would see to the body. He bid me good night when the carriage stopped at home.” Bess’s voice was hollow. I placed my hand over hers as she went on. “I knew that his not ending our betrothal in the carriage was a good sign. Then, the morning post arrived, and his letter was there. Three entire sheets about how you and I had deceived him.”
Guilt assailed me, but Bess was still speaking.
“He could not marry a woman lacking sensibility, moral judgment, and a heart. He said that the scandal of severing our betrothal was nothing compared to his ruination, if he had to see his wife hanging from a noose for her activities in a traitorous band of assassins.”
I placed my arm across her shoulders and held her against me, trying to rein in my anger at Andrew, at the Holy Order, but mostly at myself. I never should have approached Andrew about Bess, inviting him to come to Philadelphia to meet her, and most assuredly, should not have encouraged him to come back after he had deserted her the first time. Her pain was my own stupid fault. I betrayed my sister and ruined her future.
“Bess, I have something to confess.”
“There is no need, Jack,” she said without looking at me. “Andrew told me that it was at your request that he came to Philadelphia; that he would have met me at the musical even if he had not saved my life.” She gripped my hand, turning so she could look into my eyes. “No blame lies with you, Jack. I should have known that I could never marry a man like Andrew. We wanted different paths for our futures. And do not hate him for severing our betrothal, for I do not. He did just as he thought he ought.”
“I regret so very much that, through my blundering folly, your heart is broken. I never wanted that, Bess, never.”
A heart-rending smile touched her lips. “Andrew did not break my heart, Jack, because I never loved him. He only added the final blow to a heart that was holding on by a thread.”
The tragedy in her voice was more than I could bear. She sounded defeated, hopeless. Anger surged through me, and I gripped her shoulders shaking her slightly. “What is all this self-pity, Bess? It is not like you, and I will not allow it. You have overcome so much more than this, and you have more heart than any person I have ever known.”
“Sometimes the heart leads us astray, Jack,” she said thickly, “which leads me to what I need to tell you. Wait here.” She rose and went into the house, returning a minute later with something wrapped in a linen cloth. She handed it to me as she sat beside me. I knew what it was before pulling away the cloth. It was Guinevere’s dagger. Staring down at it, I knew she was in Charleston.
“How was she?” I asked a little too eagerly.
Bess frowned. “She was in perfect health the last time I saw her.”
Feeling as if the cage that I had been locked in for nearly eight months was finally opened, I looked at Bess expectantly. “Was she well?”
“If to throw a dagger at the head of your betrothed’s sister is well, then I would say she is splendid. For, she also did this.” Bess pulled up her sleeves to reveal little scars on her wrists. “She and I engaged in a fight the day I arrived in Charleston.” Bess pulled down her sleeves in two angry jerks. “You may be disappointed in her, Jack, for not only has her appearance suffered a transformation, but I am afraid her feelings for you have as well.”
A strong and sudden anger arose within me. Guinevere loved me; she promised to marry me, and she was the white phantom. She knew how to keep her feelings hidden, especially from my sister.
“She has been pursuing the most eligible bachelor in the city.”
I had heard enough rumors about Charleston on the ship to know whom she referred. “Mason?” I laughed.
“You will not be laughing so when you see them together, though they each assured me there was nothing between them.”
“You best have a care, Bess, for you sound like a jealous woman.”
Her chin rose, as her anger showed in her eyes. “You will see soon enough. But, if you believe that I will stand silently by while you marry the woman responsible for the ruination of my life, you are well off the mark.”
Chapter 12
Jack
When Bess said that Guinevere was in Charleston, I wanted to run from the house in search of her, but I could not do that to my sister, nor would I. Bess was furious that I never told her about my betrothal to Guinevere. She had discovered it by overhearing me when I presented Guinevere with a ring. She also knew that I had allowed Guinevere to escape at Stark Manor. I was in her black books for a while, but she eventually forgave me and even accompanied me on a visit to Gideon.
Bess had explained what transpired at Gideon’s house, and I was enraged, but Gideon, who had long been my mentor and friend, assured me that he was well and that no blame lay at Guinevere’s feet.
He explained to us that Guinevere had visited with him beginning the week after I had taken her to church with me. Their weekly visits had lasted until she left the city. The day after he arrived in Charleston, he had opened his door to find Guinevere on the doorstep, ready to confess of her past sins. Gideon went on to tell Bess that Guinevere had been to see him an hour before we arrived. It was like receiving a blow to the gut knowing I had missed her by no more than thirty minutes. She had been there to assure him that Samuel was not working against the Phantoms. If anything, he was trying to convert Guinevere to our side.
When we left Gideon’s house, Bess was quiet for half of the ride back to Rose Eldridge’s house. When she finally spoke, it was in a thoughtful voice, admitting that though she did not regret throwing books at him—ignoring my protests against such atrocities—she may have been too quick to judge Samuel Mason. There were problems between them that they needed to work through, as there were with Guinevere and me.
So on the twenty-fifth day of March, it was with a hopeful heart that I walked around the road near the water where the boat race was about to begin. Sam was standing on a platform where he would give the signal for the race to begin.
I had found my first night staying at his house that he was a fine host. We had much in common and spent hours talking about books and ships. It was when Bess’s name was brought into the conversation, though, that Sam became truly intriguing.
At first, he had only praiseworthy things to say of her, but I broke him down. He had said that when they were not taunting each other, they were fighting, and he liked her best when she was showing her spirit.
In the harbor, there were fifty schooners ready to set sail; their colorful flags flapping in the crisp, April wind like a beacon of excitement. The course would take them from Charleston to Savannah and back. The race would take two days, but from what Sam had told me, it was an all night celebration. Most of the men and many of the women in the crowd that had to be in the thousands would stay out all night carousing and celebrating. For many plantation owners and workers, it was the last time to be in the city for a few weeks as rice planting season was about to begin.
What seemed like hundreds of tents were lining the road. Many were for those who were staying the night, while others were vendors selling a variety of wares. It appeared that the city market had moved to the waterside for the duration of the race. There were hawkers, slaves serving their masters and their friends, women selling reeve baskets, w
omen selling themselves, vendors selling every imaginable food, and men taking bets on the ships.
As I stood beside a man selling ale, I watched Sam speaking with the patrons of the event. People were drawn to him, especially the women. I had a feeling that was why Bess was trying so hard not to like him. She had never wanted a man who paid court to other women. The man she loved would have to love her, and only her. Ben had loved only Bess, but he had been murdered before the vows were spoken, and as our family friend General Harvey had warned me, Andrew Madison loved himself first.
Bess came up beside me tucking her hand around my arm. The red and blue ribbons of her festive bonnet were blowing in the spring breeze, and her cheeks were pink. She was in good spirits until she caught sight of Sam. Her jaw was clenched so tightly I thought she might break it. When I looked toward Sam, he was still standing on the platform, but there was a short blonde woman attached to his arm. At first I thought it was Charlotte, as their backs were to us. When the cannon fired into the air to signal the beginning of the race and fifty schooners set sail, she was holding on to Sam too intimately to be Charlotte. Then she turned.
My breath puffed out of me in a great burst, and I felt all of the longing from the past seven months melt away, replaced with a fierce love that could never be matched. The most important part of my heart was standing not twenty feet away from me. Bess squeezed my arm, but I could not look at her, I could not look away from Guinevere. A blonde Guinevere, but mine all the same.
She was smiling at something Sam said, and I had the sudden urge to run him through as I noted how she was clasped onto his arm.
“Now you understand what I meant,” Bess said.
“It appears you were correct.”
A horrible ache formed where only moments before was so much love. The love was still there, but it was becoming painful, until Guinevere looked toward us.
As long as I live, I shall never forget the look that came upon her glorious face. Her extraordinary purple eyes widened as she gave a relieved cry of ‘oh.’ Even over the cheering and guns popping as people cheered on their favorite racers, I could hear her.
She took three steps forward as if she were going to leap from the platform and run to me. Sam touched her arm, but she did not look at him. I left Bess, pushing my way toward Guinevere through the crowd that was gathering around the platform so they could watch the schooners until they were out of sight. Sam had pulled Guinevere’s attention away from me, as he was pointing at something. She looked at whatever it was then at me. She shook her head.
“Jack, no!” Bess shouted behind me, but I kept moving, until I discovered why she had yelled.
Sam and Guinevere moved off the platform, running away from me through the crowd. I paused, watching ten men push their way through the crowd pursuing Sam and Guinevere.
Evidently, Frederick had done what he set out to do, which was to relay to those murderers Guinevere’s location, so they and the Holy Order could take care of each other.
I moved back to the road where Bess and Leo were giving chase. Some people were looking curiously at us, but others were too engrossed with the race. With thousands of people gathered to watch the race that was a tradition, making our way through was difficult. We had pistols and could have shot those men chasing Guinevere any number of times, but not with so many people present to witness the action or accidentally stand in the way of a ball.
Further down the port, Sam and Guinevere ran into a warehouse, and the men followed them. When we reached the door, Abe was there to meet us. Leo glanced into the warehouse, then nodded. Bess had a dagger in both hands, which she wore beneath her dress. Leo, Abe, and I all had pistols or knives in hand.
The warehouse had four doors, all open to allow in light, and there were stacked crates and bolts of fabric all over the large room. No workers were in the room since all workers were standing near the water’s edge watching the race. Rustling came from the far side of the warehouse followed by a shout and a groan. I ran ahead of the others needing to get to Guinevere.
As I rounded the corner of a long line of crates, Guinevere was flanked by four men, while Sam was facing down the others. I threw my body against the back of one and sent him flying forward and tripping over a fallen bolt of fabric. I jumped over him as I ran toward the men holding Guinevere. One of them moved toward me, raising a pistol, but he dropped it before he could pull the trigger; a knife thrown from Abe’s hand having struck his wrist. I threw my fist against his chin and then against his stomach. Shoving him to the ground, I moved closer to where I needed to be.
She was watching me with a face full of worry, but I could not gaze at her as I longed to do. Focus was required, to keep us alive.
Abe, Bess, and Sam were fighting six men behind me, while two of Guinevere’s guards came at me together, leaving only one man to hold her. Their mistake. I dodged a fist to my nose, then came around throwing a jab to the man’s jaw. His companion snuck behind me in my moment of distraction, wrapping his arms around my chest. The man whose jaw I hit struck me in the gut and I jerked forward, groaning, but the arms around me pulled me back. I was struck again, and he was about to throw a third punch, but Guinevere screamed.
The man in front of me turned to look at her, and I lifted my legs, kicking him in the back. He stumbled straight for Guinevere, who threw her arm forward. The way he hunched over crying out, I knew he had met the sharp end of her dagger. The one guard who had been left to hold her while the others fought me was on the floor behind her.
The arms around me released me and shoved me to the side so he could run toward Guinevere. Even though it was Guinevere, and I knew of her abilities, a small amount of fear seized my body. Leo reached the man before I could right myself.
Four more men came through the door behind Guinevere. She turned, the skirt of her blue gown flaring out around her ankles. Raising her dagger, a shot went off, the sound piercing the air painfully.
Three of the men watched their ally fall and backed out of the warehouse. Guinevere gave chase. Annoyance mixed with horror, filling my mind. Running after her, I caught her as she was about to leave the alley between the warehouse and the neighboring building. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pulled her back into the alley.
“Fiend seize it, Guinevere, are you trying to get yourself killed!”
She was panting; her chest was heaving, but a full smile tilted up her pink lips. “Aren’t you glad to see me, Jack?”
With my arm still around her waist, I tugged her against me and covered her lips with my own in a forceful embrace that would surely leave her lips bruised. A disgruntled moan came from her, and I pushed her back, breaking my hold on her mouth.
“Junto!”
Leo came running through the open doorway and paused to stare at Guinevere.
“See her to safety,” I said, before looking down at the face that had a recurring place in my dreams. “You and I shall speak soon.” It was a promise. Walking away from her, I did not feel as strong as my stance told.
In the warehouse, the conscious men were bound and the others unmoving, so I ran around the row of crates to where a large part of the floor was open. Four of six men were down, but whether they were breathing or not was uncertain. Abe was clutching his arm where he had received a gash, and Sam and Bess were nearly back to back, squaring off with the final two men.
Bess had one of her two daggers and was slashing out at the man who also held a dagger. Their blades hissed off each other when they struck.
Sam dealt a blow to his opponent’s ribs, doubling him over. Sam twisted around and struck Bess’s opponent on the head as Bess was plunging forward with her dagger. The dagger sank into her opponent’s abdomen, and Bess released it.
“What are you doing?” she demanded of Sam as she turned toward him.
Sam shoved her down out of the path of his opponent, as his opponent swung at him, hitting Sam’s shoulder hard.
I moved forward, but Bess grabbed the dagger her
opponent had dropped on the floor and popped up.
“Will you stay down, woman!” Sam threw a punch at his opponent that went wide.
His opponent backed up, turned, and ran. Sam pursued.
“Do not call me woman!” Bess chased after him. “That is not my name.”
Sam hit the man in the back, knocking him forward, and then landed on top of him. With a hand against the back of the man’s head, Sam raised up to kneel on him and cast his eyes upward. “God, grant me relief from stubborn women.”
“If he did, then who would be here to save your rakish neck?”
Sam glanced up at Bess. “Rakish?”
Bess placed her hands on her hips, one hand still holding the dagger. “Rakish, unprincipled, cares not for the rules of battle—”
“What are you harping upon?” he asked as he twisted back the arms of the man he was kneeling on, then stood, pulling the man up.
Bess’s face was red, and she did something so out of character that it was ludicrous. She stomped on Sam’s foot.
I was gawking, but, truly, I had entered upon a different world, where my usually calm and analytical sister had transformed into a screeching woman.
Sam’s jaw was taut as he passed his prisoner over to Abe and stalked after Bess, who was moving toward the door. Drawn to them like a ship to a lighthouse, I followed. Sam reached Bess in a few long strides, captured her arm, and pulled her around until she was pressed against him. At first, I thought he would shake her, but I knew that look, he was going to kiss her. I could tell that Bess thought that, as well.
“Bess, it is the right of the injured party to demand reparation of their attacker, and I will demand mine at my ball when you will dance with me.”
He gave her a curt nod, released her, and stomped toward me. The brooding in his look made me step back.
“How you survived years of that temper, I vow do not know, but you are to be congratulated.” Sam walked away, and Bess charged after him.
The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) Page 12