Rebel Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  The entire day had a lingering unreality to it. Her aunt and cousin were on the way to England. The man who should have gone was still here, in their guest room. After a night of rioting, the town seemed subdued, and the troops patrolling the streets added uneasiness. Home was no longer home anymore, but a battlefield, with people she loved taking opposite sides.

  Unable to deal with this mixture of emotions, Evelyn concentrated on work and hurried home at the end of the day with a deliberately blank mind. She bathed and ate and, unable to relax, offered to sit up with their patient when her mother began to yawn.

  Amanda looked doubtful at the suggestion but nodded. “He has slept most of the day. I just changed the bandage. If you would look in on him occasionally to see that he doesn’t run a fever, it should be all right. I left some food warming in case he wakes. You might see to the fire.”

  Doing as told, Evelyn then curled up with a book and a candle in her bedroom chair. Leaving her door slightly ajar, she could hear any noises from the bedroom down the hall. Jacob’s room was just across from the guest room, but Jacob slept like one of the dead. He would be virtually useless should Alex wake and call out.

  Not that she expected Alex to do anything so sensible as calling out should he need food or water or medicine. She rather expected he would wake as he had that morning, cursing. She wondered if that were his normal way of waking. She hoped he lived alone, if so.

  After the blow he had received, he really should have looked more ill and helpless than he did. Instead, he had looked startlingly strong and healthy. And grubby. She smiled to herself, remembering how his usually neatly tied hair curled about his face from beneath the bandage, adding to the piratical image of his unshaven heavy black whiskers. The noble dandy would have a proper fit if he could see himself now.

  Deciding she’d better check to see if he was still breathing, she laid her book aside and slipped down the hall.

  She found Alex lying with hands behind head, staring at the limited view of the sky from the window beside his bed. When she entered, he watched her, but he didn’t smile or greet her in any way. Worried, Evelyn daringly lay the back of her hand against his cheek to test for fever.

  “I’m fine. My head still hurts, but it’s not likely to rot off anytime soon. I thought everyone was asleep.”

  He didn’t catch her hand or make the usual insinuating suggestions or even look at her boldly. Really worried now, Evelyn clasped her hands and admired the exceedingly masculine face on the pillow. When he had his hair tied in a satin bow and wore lace at his throat, he looked the part of English dandy well enough. Like this, bare-chested and with his jaw unshaven, she couldn’t place him in that slot. He was a man, pure and simple.

  “Only good people sleep, I guess,” she said. “Would you like something to eat? Mama says you haven’t eaten all day.”

  That stirred his interest. “I’m starved, but I don’t want to cause anyone any trouble. If there’s some bread or cheese lying about . . .”

  Evelyn stared at him with incredulity. “You really are ill, aren’t you? Perhaps I should call the doctor. It might not be wise to feed you too much if you’re starting a fever.”

  Alex looked shocked, before he recognized her sarcasm. He grinned. “Would you feel better if I cursed and demanded my supper and threatened to get up and get it if you didn’t go to fetch it right now?”

  Mesmerized by the sight of that charming grin he so seldom used, Evelyn answered with the first thought in her head. “I’d think you fully recovered and tell you to get it yourself, which would be a dreadful mistake.” Her gaze swept knowingly over his sheet-covered nudity. “Obviously you are not yourself yet, so I will fetch for you. This time.”

  She heard his chuckle as she swept out of the room, and she blushed at her own temerity. What was it about Alexander Hampton that made her act like a wanton in his presence? She was a modest person, accustomed to working with men, not flirting with them. Alex brought out a side of her that she hadn’t known existed. It was a pleasurable, exciting feeling, but dangerous to her well-being.

  When she returned with the tray, she found Alex sitting on the side of the bed. He had somehow contrived to get to the wardrobe. Her mother had ordered his clothing transferred from the inn earlier in the day. He now wore breeches and a maroon dressing robe that did not significantly disguise the breadth of his chest or the dark hair there. She avoided looking at him as she set the tray down on the table.

  “That smells delicious. Don’t tell me I’m not limited to rations of bread and water.” He didn’t attempt to rise as she entered, but sat up with one hand propped on the bed behind him.

  “Not in my mother’s house. She is thrilled to death to have another man to dote on, although I believe last night she might have hit you over the head if someone else hadn’t beaten her to it.” Evelyn handed Alex a napkin and hovered uncertainly. Propriety called for her to leave, but she found it difficult to do. She wanted to stay and talk with him, hear his view of the past night’s events.

  Alex solved the problem by waiting for her to sit down before he touched the food. When she took the wooden chair near the table, he reached for the mug on the tray and drank deeply, then spluttered and set it aside.

  He gave her an accusing glare. “Milk? Apple juice this morning and milk tonight? Are you trying to poison me?”

  Evelyn smiled at this return of his normal ill humor. “On the contrary, the doctor says it will wash the poisons from your body. As long as your head continues to hurt and you need the powders, he advises against alcohol. So you will have to heal rapidly.”

  He gave her cheerful expression a murderous glare. “Your mother wants to dote on me when she doesn’t want to beat me over the head, and you’re doing your best to get rid of me. Are things always so agreeable around this house?”

  “We get along.” She waited for him to begin eating. It didn’t seem fair to keep him talking when he must be starving, but it was a trifle awkward sitting silent while she sat in a nearly naked man’s bedroom watching him eat.

  When it became apparent he was more interested in the food than in her, she started to rise. “I’ll leave you to your meal, then. Good night.”

  Alex scowled and motioned for her to sit down. “Not so fast. I’m still waiting to hear why your mother wanted to beat me over the head but changed her mind. There are a few other questions I have in mind also, but first things first.” He leaned back on his hand again, studying her as he sipped gingerly at the milk.

  Evelyn debated the wisdom of remaining, but he seemed weak enough not to be dangerous. She could tell from the small frown above his eyes that his head still hurt, and he was still unsteady enough to have to balance himself. She stayed seated.

  “You didn’t really think she would be pleased to idle away in your room while a mob threatened her children, did you? You could have given her a weapon or two, and she would have been right at your side, probably preventing that nasty blow you took.”

  He lifted his brows in astonishment. “Are all females over here so intrepid? My mother would have fainted and had to be carried away before we even reached the wharf.”

  “This isn’t London. We do things for ourselves here. We don’t have footmen to send out to see what’s happening. As it was, Mama recognized several of the men in the tavern and made them come with her, but you seemed to have done well on your own. I thought your men sailed with the Minerva. Whom did you have helping you?” Evelyn couldn’t help asking; her curiosity had been held in check too long.

  Alex shrugged. “There are a few local men on my payroll. I don’t know the area well enough to make all inquiries on my own. They’ve been helpful.” He bit into a roll.

  She was inclined to think of him as an indolent nobleman because he dressed and acted that part when they attended public functions together. But she had to remember that only a shrewd businessman could operate a firm as large as Cranville Enterprises. That he had hired ruffians on his payroll was credi
ble.

  “Why didn’t you go with the Minerva?” she finally asked.

  Finishing the last of the food on his plate, Alex wiped his mouth with the napkin, and leaned back against the pillows. “That was what I was asking myself when you came in.”

  So much for any romantic theories she might have secretly harbored. Alex wasn’t a man prone to the subtleties of seduction. She began to believe he would not lie to her. She wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t have preferred just a little lie in this instance.

  Evelyn stood and picked up the tray. “Surely there will be another ship arriving soon. This way you will have time to turn your information over to the Admiralty Court. Have you found out the names of the smugglers yet?”

  “No, they’re more clever than I expected. The companies appear to be registered in England. I’ll need the information I requested from my partners before I can confirm my suspicions.”

  He sounded tired, and Evelyn regretted her earlier sarcasm. “I’m sorry I ever suspected you of smuggling. We’ll do our best to make you comfortable until a ship arrives.” She backed against the door, pushing it open so she could leave with her hands full of tray and utensils. His hollow reply stopped her in the doorway.

  “It will have to be a Cranville vessel, my dear. The Minerva sailed with the last of my funds.”

  Chapter 11

  Several mornings later, Evelyn started at finding Alex leaning against her bedroom doorjamb. She hastily tucked the rest of her shirt into her breeches “What are you doing in here?”

  The doctor had examined his wound earlier and announced it healing nicely, but he still wore a bandage above his eye. “I’m tired of playing the part of invalid. Have all evening activities come to a crashing halt since the riots, that you must occupy your time working at night?” He gave her boy’s clothing a disparaging look.

  “You would certainly look dashing with that bandage dancing through a ballroom and fainting at the first reel,” she retorted, annoyed for not having closed the door tightly. “You don’t have to worry about it, though. Since the governor is still in hiding and Hutchinson’s house has been demolished and my uncle has quit entertaining, there is little in the way of society these days. The militia patrolling the streets might have something to do with the lack of interest in frivolity.”

  “I thought you said they caught Mcintosh. Surely they’re not afraid of more riots with the ringleader behind bars.”

  Evelyn reached for her jerkin while covertly studying Alex. He hadn’t precisely been a model patient these past days, but he had been rather more subdued than she had expected. She suspected his graciousness was for her mother’s benefit. Besides, he couldn’t afford to be thrown out of free room and board.

  It occurred to her that she had the means to keep Alex entertained until one of his ships arrived to rescue him. He obviously had a penchant for trouble, and she knew the best troublemakers in town. The question was, did she dare introduce him to the radical ideas they espoused?

  She watched his expression as she reported, “Mcintosh was released yesterday.”

  Alex straightened and stared at her as if she were crazed. “You’re joking. Jacob said he was the one who led the mob from the State House to the judge’s and then to Hutchinson’s. There can’t be two men out there who look like that.”

  Evelyn shrugged. “Do you want to be the man responsible for holding someone who can control a mob?”

  “How can he control anything from behind bars?” Alex’s astonishment turned to suspicion. “There’s something you’re not telling me. There has been all along. Where are you going, dressed in that costume?”

  He had helped her and her family when he didn’t have to. He had endured her uncle’s insults, protected her with his name, and rescued Jacob from thieves—all greatly against his will, she suspected. He was an Englishman with no notion of what it was like to be a colonist. Maybe it was about time he learned.

  “To meet some friends. Would you like to come?”

  Studying her jerkin and breeches, he replied with his usual insouciance. “Do I need to wear a costume?”

  Evelyn grinned. “I think the pirate look will suffice.” She sobered when she asked, “Are you certain you are well enough? I don’t want you stumbling down the stairs and breaking your leg. I don’t think I could bear your temper for as long as it takes a leg to heal.”

  “If I break my leg, I will arrange for it to be elsewhere so I needn’t endure the temptation of your charming insults.” Alex hooked his arm over Evelyn’s shoulder and made a great display of limping along beside her as they turned toward the stairs.

  “You’re an insufferable cad,” she admonished as he caught the banister but continued to rest his arm on her shoulders.

  “I’ll pay you back in kisses later,” he whispered wickedly as they descended.

  Evelyn swung her fist at their injured guest’s stomach. He dodged and howled with laughter.

  Alex quit treating their escapade as a joke the instant Evelyn led him to a dockside tavern. He caught her arm and held her back. “Have you taken leave of your senses? You can’t go in there. Even in that garb, no one will mistake you for a man.”

  Evelyn smirked. “Oh? Am I not tall enough? I haven’t got your shoulders, I admit, but I think I make a passable boy.”

  “Even a blind man could see you are no boy. You curve in all the wrong places and smell of violets. And if this is your way of seeking flattery, I’m too out of patience to offer more.”

  From Alex, that was exceptional flattery, and Evelyn grinned a little more. “I curve in all the wrong places! Lud, but you’ll spin my head with such sweet phrases! I can assure you, sir, that I will be perfectly safe. Skirts are a little obvious, and men being the poor creatures that they are, are rather nervous having females about. So I sit quietly in the corner and blend into the woodwork. You’ll see.”

  “Dammit all, Evelyn, I didn’t bring my sword or a pistol to protect your virtue. The jest is over. Let’s go back.”

  She sidestepped his grasping hand, opened the tavern door, and walked in. He could stay behind if he liked, but this was the first time the committee had agreed she could sit in on their meeting. She had ripped Sam Adams up one side and down the other for the result of Mcintosh’s personal vendetta. He owed her this.

  Of course, this was only an informal gathering. She wouldn’t have dared to bring Alex to one of their closed meetings. Here, he could just see her as meeting with friends, as she had said. He could make what he would of the discussion.

  Pilgrim greeted her with a jovial grin and a few of the other, younger men lifted their mugs in recognition. Evelyn took a bench by the fireplace near their table. Their grins disappeared at sight of Alex. In the dim light of smoking oil lamps and candles, the table of patriots watched the heir to an earldom with suspicion.

  “Miss Wellington, you did not tell us you were bringing a visitor.” Sam Adams sat back in his chair and pulled on his pipe, his hand trembling with the palsy that sometimes afflicted him.

  “Is this not an open discussion, Mr. Adams? Don’t you think it’s time that some of your complaints be heard by someone who might be in a position to do something about them?”

  ***

  Alex glared from Evelyn to the gray-haired, ill-dressed man. He had known the termagant was leading him into trouble. He still wasn’t certain of the cause, but he could smell the source a mile away. He closed his hands over the back of a vacant chair and waited for the older man to speak.

  “Not a blamed Tory, Miss Wellington!” the man addressed as Adams replied. “That’s the trouble with females, they don’t think with their heads. You don’t understand politics.” He turned his gaze to Alex. “Mr. Hampton, I apologize for the lady’s mistake. You will not find our company very congenial.”

  The old man knew his name. That was interesting. Judging by the tense faces around the table, the others allowed this man to sit in judgment. Alex wasn’t fond of dictators, and he suspected Evel
yn had her reasons for bringing him where he was clearly unwanted. He swung the chair around and sat down.

  “On the contrary, I am eager to meet friends of my fiancée, particularly if they can tell me why her establishment was attacked the other night.” That was a wild guess, but the guilt registering on several faces told him he’d struck a point. He waved his hand to the barmaid for a mug.

  “It won’t happen again, I assure you, Mr. Hampton. The Wellingtons are a respected family in this community. An error was made, as occasionally happens due to the human element.”

  Alex glanced to Evelyn to see if she caught that revelation. The old man was insinuating the riots could be controlled. She didn’t seem surprised.

  He took a sip of his ale while he formulated a reply. “Dealing with mobs involves more human element than is safe around women and children. Mrs. Upton and her daughter were set upon by thieves. Isn’t there a more orderly manner of accomplishing your objectives?”

  Adams sat back and let one of the younger men plunge into the much-debated subject.

  “We have tried proper channels, Mr. Hampton,” the eager young man protested. “Has Evelyn told you nothing? The representatives of all the colonies have sent formal letters of protest over recent taxation policies. Our own royally appointed governor and lieutenant governor have objected to the excessive tariffs. No one listens. If polite argument won’t work, what else is there? Parliament must be made to see that the entire populace objects to these chains around our necks. We will not accept tyranny!”

  The argument grew heated after that, and the combatants all but forgot Alex’s presence.

  By the time they left the tavern, he was furious, but it was a fury gained of fomenting ideas. When they reached the street, he gripped Evelyn’s upper arm.

  “What are you doing involved with men like that?”