Rebel Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  That didn’t make sense. He must be protecting someone. But whom? And why?

  The questions would drive her to madness. She could not lie here all night and quietly go insane. She wasn’t some passive, helpless female he could order about.

  Working at the fastenings of the lovely wedding gown she had once hoped Alex would divest her of, Evelyn shoved aside all lustful thoughts and yanked off the gown. Sumptuous folds of silk and satin crumpled to the floor, held up only by the panniers she had untied and let fall with them. Stepping out of the puddle of fabric, she jerked open the bottom drawer of the armoire and pulled out the breeches she had vowed never to wear again. It had been a stupid, romantic notion that she could please her husband by always appearing as a lady. Alex probably wouldn’t even notice the difference.

  Within the half hour Evelyn was slipping along silent, dark streets in the direction of Castle Island. If everyone had gone on boats to intercept the English ship, she would be out of luck, but she didn’t think they would risk such a foolhardy attempt without a great deal of discussion. The island couldn’t be seen from land, but she knew the closest wharf, and the closest tavern to that wharf. She wagered that was where she would find the plotters.

  She disliked entering taverns where she was not known. She lingered in the shadows outside, waiting to see or hear someone she knew before entering. The angry shouts from the tap room did nothing to reassure her. It was difficult to distinguish voices through thick log-and-clapboard walls. It could be a sailors’ quarrel for all she knew. Pulling her hat further over her eyes, she shrugged back her shoulders and pushed open the door.

  She found no sign of Alex, but she immediately recognized the inhabitants of the largest table by the fire. Slipping into a darkened booth nearby, she ordered an ale and sipped at it as she listened to their argument.

  She was disappointed that they made no mention of Alex. Surely this was where he had come to put an end to the foolish notion that they could storm the castle. But it seemed they had heard no words of caution. All their plans involved the number of men who would volunteer and the quantity and quality of arms that could be employed. An angry dispute broke out over the possibility of converting the militia into an army to be used against the British troops. Evelyn’s fingers bit into her palms.

  They were talking war.

  Realizing it was pointless to advise caution when the argument was over the extent of hostilities without any consideration of peaceful solutions, Evelyn paid her fare and slipped into the street again. She had accomplished nothing but wasting away the hours of her wedding night. What if Alex had returned to find her gone?

  Hurrying back toward the house, she debated the question. If Alex wasn’t here dissuading these fools from their course, where was he? Did he deceive her in this too? How could she return obediently to the bed of a man who kept secrets and manipulated her to his own uses?

  She would rather seek explanations than refuse him outright. She wanted desperately to believe, so desperately that she rushed home to his bed.

  He wasn’t there. She knew it as soon as she saw the single candlestick she had left burning on the newel post. Taking the ring of the holder with her finger, Evelyn returned upstairs, leaving him to find his way in darkness.

  She debated sleeping in some other room, but the beds had been stripped of linens and the feather mattresses taken out and beaten in preparation for storage. The house rang hollow as she walked through it. Carpets had been cleaned and stored with cedar shavings to keep out insects, and there was little left to muffle her footsteps. Within a week this would no longer be her home.

  After removing her jacket in the emptiness of the room that was to have been her wedding chamber, she bolted the door. She needed time to think.

  ***

  Alex sipped at his Madeira and listened to the arguments of the well-dressed gentlemen around the table. Caught in a city on the brink of violence, acting governor Hutchinson would have to give in.

  But the true governor on his fortified island would not feel the same pressure. It would be difficult to persuade him to abandon the stamps before all hell broke loose.

  Alex grimaced at being caught in a petty colonial war over a box of tax stamps. He would rather be in the warm arms of his new bride, although he suspected she would brain him with the chamber pot before he reached that happy state. But the way things looked, they were all in danger until the stamps were settled. He had a plan that might involve a minimum of bloodshed if the earl could be persuaded to it. It just awaited the proper moment to be introduced.

  Glancing at the rising sun outside the window, Alex eased back in the chair. So much for wedding nights. He adjusted his position and turned his thoughts away from hot kisses. It would be hours before Cranville could even be approached. And it would be hours before the plan could be carried out. Perhaps he could sneak back to the house for just a little while. A quick tumble in daylight wasn’t quite as satisfactory as a full night of seduction, but he was willing to take any crumb offered. That one brief coupling more than a week ago couldn’t satisfy his hunger for his bride.

  ***

  Unable to sleep, Evelyn finally gave up. At dawn, there were no bells, no people rushing through the streets, no gunfire. If the stamps had arrived, the anticipated outrage had sputtered to nothing.

  Not willing to sit idle and wonder where her new husband was, unable to face her mother when she arrived to finish packing, Evelyn dressed and hurried to the warehouse. She didn’t know what she would do with herself when she left her home behind, but she had plenty to do while she was here. The paperwork had been sadly neglected this past week.

  The man that Alex had recommended to help her with the warehouse was already at work when she arrived. He greeted her with a cautious nod and set aside his pen.

  Unaccustomed to seeing anyone but herself or her father with the books, Evelyn nervously fussed with removing her gloves and cloak. The weather had worsened, and she sent an anxious glance to the ships in the harbor. Most of them would soon leave for warmer ports. The Neptune was the only one of any size remaining.

  “I did not expect to see thee here today, Miss Wellington . . . Mrs. Hampton. Is there aught I can do for thee?”

  He spoke like the Quaker he was. She understood why Alex trusted the man, but she could not help the vague uneasiness at the sound of her new name. The warehouse had been her family’s livelihood for years. While they lived with Alex, they would not need the income to live on and could very well afford to pay a clerk. But if the economy continued to falter and her mother and Jacob desired to return here, there would not be enough cash to support this man plus her family. They would have to rely on Alex for their livelihood.

  Hanging her outer garments on the cloak-tree by the door, she joined her new manager behind the counter. “I have neglected my work this past week, Mr. Johnson. Perhaps I could take a look at the correspondence and our ledgers and see where we stand?”

  He brought all she required and retired to the warehouse to begin the inventory that Alex had requested he take.

  Evelyn worked longer than she expected. The books did not look promising, but with careful management the warehouse could survive. How long would it take before this tense political situation changed for the better?

  Reminded by Mr. Johnson that it had grown dark, Evelyn donned her cloak and allowed herself to be escorted back to Treamount.

  There were lights in the windows and she unconsciously increased her pace.

  The delicious aroma of clam chowder greeted her as she entered. Mr. Johnson politely declined her invitation and went on his way, leaving Evelyn to seek the source of the smells by herself. She had nibbled at an apple and some toast for breakfast and completely ignored lunch. She was starved.

  The familiar sight of her mother bending over the fire sent both warmth and worry through her. She should have been the one here preparing the meal for her new husband. Evelyn glanced around and found only Molly kneading bread an
d Jacob licking a cake bowl, just as it used to be before Alex came into her life. Where was Alex?

  Her family didn’t seem surprised that she had spent the day after her wedding elsewhere. She was handed a stack of plates and silverware and ordered to set the table.

  Counting the dishes and finding only enough for themselves, she hesitated. “Has Alex sent word when he will be home? And Lord Cranville, should we not have asked him to join us?”

  That caused her mother to look at her in surprise. “Did he not tell you? Well, I suppose he thought I would get the message to you. I just assumed when you weren’t here . . .” She didn’t continue that thought but went on to the next. “Alex and the earl have gone out to Castle Island to talk with Governor Barnard. They didn’t say, but I believe they are trying to persuade the governor to place the stamps in the earl’s custody. It’s hard to believe that a man as loyal to the crown as Lord Cranville would undertake such a dubious task, but Alex can be persuasive, I suppose.” She sent Evelyn a look that said just how persuasive the gentleman could be if he could talk her daughter into doing what she shouldn’t.

  Evelyn hid her blush by heading for the dining room. “The earl spent many years in Barbados,” she said. “I wouldn’t put too much reliance on his loyalty to anyone, just like Alex.”

  That seemed to be the most reasonable solution to her questions. Both men were shrewd businessmen looking to protect their interests. She wasn’t certain where she fitted into their plans or if she did fit into them, but the likelihood of ever prying anything out of Alex was small. Telling her something of his past was an anomaly he would not repeat. Their discussions seldom centered on feelings or beliefs or ephemeral topics like that. The only plan for the future she could pry out of him was the desire to have their children born in the bed upstairs.

  Slamming the dishes onto the table, Evelyn cursed her stupidity in marrying a man who didn’t love her. He had no intention of changing his way of life for her. That much was obvious. But she had to throw away everything she knew and loved for him. It wasn’t fair.

  His continued absence did not lessen her sense of injustice. When her family left her alone later that evening in expectation of Alex’s imminent arrival, she contemplated barring the door again. Only the thought that he would simply return to the doxy at the tavern made her hesitate. She was the one who would suffer. Not he.

  Damn! Evelyn slammed the bolt open and stared at the huge empty bed with tears in her eyes. Why had she ever been fool enough to believe that her love alone would make this marriage work?

  ***

  Alex stifled a yawn as the earl and the governor delved into the diplomatic intricacies of releasing the stamps from the protection of the fort. With night, the drafty building had become chillingly cold, but the two statesmen had usurped the best places near the fire. They didn’t even need him except as a buffer when the negotiations grew hostile. No sleep last night, little enough the night before, and it appeared he would be here for the night again at the pace of the present proceedings. Damn, but what he wouldn’t give just for the luxury of sprawling across a feather mattress with Evelyn in his arms.

  He frowned at the thought of Evelyn. After stopping at Upton’s to wake the earl, he had gone back after dawn to explain to his bride why he would be delayed. He had hoped to find her alone, but he would have settled for some tea and a kiss and a moment’s conversation. Instead, he had found the house empty.

  He had known where she was, but he had no time to track her down at the warehouse.

  Alex took another long drink of hot rum and let the heat seep through his cold bones. Why had he thought that, once married, Evelyn would settle down to a wifely existence like every other woman in the world? He must have been temporarily insane to believe his name and his financial support would relieve her of the need to run a business and play at politics. Supporting her family was only an excuse to be a meddlesome tyrant.

  Well, that would all end when he put her on the ship for England. She would have no choice but to settle down and play wife and, eventually, mother. Why, then, did he feel uneasy when he tried to fit Evelyn into that picture?

  Chapter 21

  Evelyn was frantic when still another night passed without word from Alex. She dressed hastily the next morning and hurried to her uncle’s, only to discover from a maid that the earl had spent the night away too.

  Before she could escape, her uncle caught up with her. With a gesture toward the breakfast room, he indicated that she join him. Reluctantly, Evelyn followed in his footsteps.

  “I’ve been meaning to have a talk with your husband, but he seems to be a busy man these days. Do you have word yet when the ship sails?”

  That seemed an innocent enough question, and Evelyn settled her skirts over the chair offered and accepted some tea. “By the end of the week, I am told. They are still in the process of loading, and there seems to be a shipment or two that has not arrived.”

  “Then your husband means to pay your fine? That is generous of him. You will be keeping the warehouse, then.”

  Evelyn had serious doubts that Alex had any such intention concerning the exorbitant fine. She had until Friday, the first of November, to find the money or go to jail. If she were on a ship on the way to England, she could not do either.

  “The warehouse will go to Jacob when he comes of age. That has always been understood,” she said, sipping her tea. Further discussion of the warehouse would not be beneficial to her emotional health.

  “Then you will need someone to manage it in your absence. The fellow you have down there may be a fine bookkeeper, but those types are useless in acquiring new business and expanding investments. You would do better to trust it to family. I’ll be happy to recommend someone for the position.”

  Oh, lud, she didn’t need to start the day like this. Setting her cup aside, Evelyn rose. “You were in such a hurry to see me married, Uncle George, that you should have realized my husband would be the one to deal with such matters. He hired Mr. Johnson. You will have to speak with Alex if you’re not pleased with his choice. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some other calls to make.”

  Sweeping out in a flutter of feminine finery, Evelyn hoped she’d succeeded in convincing her uncle she was no longer the one in charge of the warehouse. At the moment, she was almost convinced that Thomas Henderson had been right when he had urged her to sell and reinvest in something more profitable. Had it not been for the warehouse, she would never have met Alex, never been arrested, and wouldn’t be worrying herself sick over how the Stamp Act would harm the business.

  Had Alex been available, she would have consulted him, but he was busy pretending he wasn’t married, so she walked down the street to her lawyer’s office. She might find Henderson’s ubiquitous flattery offensive, but there was no question that he was a good lawyer and that her father had relied on him. If the growing signs of his wealth were any evidence, he had good investment sense. It wouldn’t hurt to ask if there might be a better investment for Jacob than the warehouse.

  Henderson greeted her effusively, as usual. When he heard her question, he looked startled but tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his desk.

  “Then I assume either your husband has agreed to pay the fine or he has provided the court with sufficient evidence to prove your innocence if you don’t need the warehouse to pay your fine. I know he has been trying to locate the owners of the contraband stored in your warehouse. Has he succeeded?”

  “If he has, he has not informed me, Mr. Henderson. You must discuss that with him. He realizes that under no circumstances will my father’s trust be touched for any purpose but my dowry and Jacob’s future. I assume he has discussed the dowry with you. The sale of the warehouse would free the cash immediately for my portion, and thus partially reimburse him for the cost of the fine if he so wishes. Other than that, the bulk of the sale would need be reinvested so Jacob could start his own business when he is ready.”

  “I shall give the matter
thought, Evelyn. The warehouse might not sell for so much as it would in prosperous times. If there is any chance that the fine will be commuted due to additional evidence, I would recommend that you discover it. It’s a factor in the decision.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” Evelyn left and hurried on to the warehouse. How would she ever persuade Alex to tell her what was in that packet of information that he and the earl had argued over? Was there some way to find the packet and discover it herself?

  ***

  Exhausted and disgruntled, Alex wove his way back to the Wellington house through the dark streets of Boston. The cold north wind gusting leaves around his feet warned it was time to weigh anchor before winter’s ice formed in the rigging. If he had his way, he would fling his wife over his shoulder and ship out now. These damn stubborn Yankees had worn his patience to the bone.

  The earl was cozily warming his toes at the governor’s fire. Now that the stamps were safely in hands that would dispose of them without warfare, Alex was ready for his own bed. Evelyn had sent him on this wild-goose chase. Now that he’d bagged the bird, he hoped she would be suitably grateful. He had the nagging feeling that she would not.

  The house was dark and cold when he entered, the kitchen fire long since banked. He had no appetite for food, however. The desire for sleep had even overcome lust. All he wanted was to be in the peace of his bed with the warmth of his wife cuddled against him. He had never bothered to set up a mistress whose favors he could enjoy all night, but he rather liked the notion of waking to a warm and willing woman—sometime tomorrow afternoon, preferably.

  Wearily but with a wariness developed over the years, Alex pushed open Evelyn’s bedroom door. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was not bolted against him.

  He searched the massive shadow of the hand-carved poster bed by the window. Before he could determine if the bed was occupied, a candle wick caught and Evelyn’s pale face emerged from the darkness.

  She wore her hair in a single thick braid. Light wisps danced in a draft as she reached for her robe. The high-necked flannel gown she wore was not at all to Alex’s liking, but he could detect her slender figure beneath the soft cloth. He stayed her hand to prevent her reaching for the robe.