Rebel Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  Alex rose to his full height and smiled unpleasantly at the lawyer, who regarded him with an uneasy smile.

  “I have little knowledge of the trade, Mr. Hampton,” Henderson replied smoothly. “I only wish to see the Wellington estate handled in the best possible manner. If Evelyn trusts your judgment, I have no quarrel with that.”

  “Very good. You may send your bill to her uncle. The two of you should be able to agree on what the cost to Evelyn has been. I bid you good day.” No longer smiling, Alex swung on his heel and strode out.

  He was letting the bounder off too easy. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Henderson and Upton had framed Evelyn to pry her out of the warehouse and claim it for their own. Had she simply sold it from the outset, she could be happily sitting in her own home entertaining a swarm of suitors now.

  Alex’s decision to ask questions and track smugglers had forced their dirty hands. Damn, but he wished there were some way to get even with them, but they held all the cards. Besides, he had already learned how closely these men worked with the local judge. There would be no justice here. Not yet, anyway.

  ***

  As Alex walked toward the harbor, Henderson hurriedly closed his office and strode down the street to Upton’s.

  George greeted his lawyer’s early-morning appearance with surprise. “You do not look as if you’ve come to share breakfast.”

  Henderson nodded toward the open door to the breakfast room. “Are you alone?”

  The older man took his arm and steered him toward the closed door of the library. “My sister-in-law and Cranville are here. What is wrong? Yesterday you were bragging we had the warehouse in our hands. Has the stubborn baggage changed her mind yet again?”

  They entered the library, closing the door behind them as they spoke. Henderson paced to the newly repaired windows.

  “That interfering dandified husband of hers knows about us. That packet you heard them discuss must contain damning evidence. He was at my office first thing this morning threatening me. If the warehouse is sold, it will be into his hands.”

  Upton issued a pithy curse and sought the brandy decanter. “We have all the goods out of there now except what was left for evidence. They can prove nothing. They may have traced the shipments, but there is nothing they can hold us on.”

  Henderson turned on the older man. “He’s looking for blood. He has something or he would not threaten us as he did. He wants us to end the smuggling. We will no longer be able to use his ships or warehouses. He’s cutting our throats.”

  Upton settled in a leather chair, his face betraying its age beneath the gray wig. “To tell the truth, I am weary of it. It does not seem worth the effort any longer.”

  The young lawyer practically snarled as he stalked the room. “That is fine for you to say. You’re an old man with wealth enough to last the remainder of your days. What about me? Had you not insisted on marrying your niece off to that damned Englishman, none of this would have happened. Why should I pay for your mistakes? Do you know how many lawyers there are in this damn town? Do you know how hard I must work just to make a pittance? Not worth the effort any longer!” he mocked, throwing up his hand. “You may as well say my life is not worth the effort any longer! There is money to be made here, and I will not give it up just to please that lofty niece of yours.”

  Upton pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “She will be in England and out of your hair. It is her husband and the evidence you must worry about. It seems to me if he has not turned us over to the court yet, he will not later, unless he suspects we’re continuing to use his ships. There are other lines available besides his.”

  “I will not feel safe until that evidence is in my hands.” Henderson faced his tired partner. “In any event, I will have to go to England to set up new supply lines while you find us a new warehouse. We can be back in business shortly.”

  Upton shot him a look of disgust. “It is nearly November. Do you think there will be another ship out of here before spring? It’s over. Let it go at that.”

  Henderson’s lips curved in a smile that would not be recognized by his lady friends. “There is a ship in the harbor right now, is there not? I’ll be on it, and I’ll have that packet before we land. Take care, Upton, or it will be only your name left in evidence.”

  He departed, leaving his partner ashen and draining a glass of brandy.

  ***

  Evelyn bent over the last of the trunks. She was waiting for word on whether they would be forced to spend yet another night on land while the last of the ship’s cargo was loaded. She didn’t like the idea of postponing their departure. That was just daring the fates.

  She glanced nervously out the upper-story window to the street below. She shivered like a frightened rabbit at any untoward noise. She kept hearing soldiers marching, coming for her, hauling her away. She had nightmares about it, but she couldn’t tell Alex that. She couldn’t let him see that she craved his arms around her to keep the nightmares away.

  It was early morning yet. Surely by tonight they would be on the ship and sailing away. She needn’t worry about soldiers anymore then. She would be safe.

  The street seemed ominously quiet. Alex had kept her from going to the wharf these last two days, and she felt isolated from events. He had dutifully reported the latest closings, the number of men looking for work, the quiet fear and desperation gripping the city as the day of reckoning approached. On the morrow, the town would have to close down or collectively break the law. She wouldn’t be here to see how it ended.

  Outside, she could see a tall broad-shouldered figure braving the wind, one gloved hand holding his cocked hat to his head and the other gripping the edges of his cloak as it whipped in the wind. Evelyn’s heart lodged in her throat as she recognized his hasty strides. Alex had sold his horse to Mr. Johnson yesterday.

  Raising her hand to tuck a straying strand of hair behind her ear and checking to see that the pins had not loosened from the braid coiled about her head, Evelyn hurried down the stairs. Maybe the ship was ready to sail.

  Alex burst through the door before she reached the bottom of the steps. He glanced around, as if fearful she had gone., His mouth relaxed as she hurried toward him, but the tension did not leave his shoulders. He produced a newspaper from beneath his cloak.

  “Look at this! I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. I have to get you out of here now.”

  Evelyn froze, and Alex had to wave the newspaper beneath her nose before she’d take it. A skull and crossbones decorated the masthead like some eerie All Hallows’ Eve demon, and she stared at it in horror and confusion. “What does it mean?”

  “It means the newspapers are going out of business today. They cannot sell them without stamps tomorrow. It means the courts will close today, because they can issue no legal documents tomorrow. It means we have to get you the hell out of here before the judge realizes the same damn thing and comes after you now!”

  “Oh, no! They would not!” Evelyn said in horror. She had feared they might be at her door by morning, but despite her nightmares, she did not expect them a day early.

  “I’m taking no chances. There are mobs forming in the streets. Sailors and farmers are pouring into town, waiting to see what happens tomorrow. Right now they’re satisfying themselves with heckling your uncle and others of his ilk, preventing them from carrying out their duties, but reinforcements have been called in. There will be British troops on the street within the hour. Do you still have your boy’s clothes?”

  “In the armoire. I did not think I would be needing them.” She started running up the stairs, with Alex in close pursuit. “What are we going to do?”

  “Get you on that ship without anyone knowing. Let me see what you have. It’s freezing out there.”

  Evelyn produced the breeches, shirt, and jerkin that she kept in the drawer, then pulled the faded broadcloth coat and fringed hat from the armoire. “I don’t have any man’s gloves, but I will be fine. I
t’s broad daylight, though. Are you sure this will work?”

  Looking at her curving hips, Alex groaned and stripped off his gloves. “It’s a damn good thing that’s a long coat,” he answered. “Take these. Have you got a wheelbarrow or cart?”

  Evelyn took the soft leather gloves, still warm from his hands, and clenched them. “A wheelbarrow? I suppose, in the shed out back. What will you do with it?”

  “Haul trunks.” He left before she could inquire further.

  She hastily divested herself of her gown and petticoats. It seemed strange to be donning breeches again. These last two days playing at man and wife with Alex had created some subtle change in her attitude. She liked wearing feminine gowns and having men look at her as if she were attractive. With Alex around, it had been easy to rely on him to take care of the business world while she indulged in homemaking, or unmaking, as the case might be. She shook her head at her stupidity. Once the marriage was annulled, she would again be in the position of supporting the family. She had better not grow too accustomed to relying on anyone else.

  Buttoning her coat and pulling the loose-fitting hat down over her ears, Evelyn clattered down the stairs to find out what Alex planned.

  He came in the kitchen door rubbing dirt and cobwebs from his frozen hands. Giving her attire a cursory inspection, he grimaced. “I can’t imagine how in hell you ever thought you would pass for a boy. But with any luck, no one will be paying close attention.”

  Evelyn glanced down at her loose cotton shirt, brown buttoned coat and breeches, and thought she had done very well. Her woolen stockings sagged, disguising her legs, and her hat hid her hair. What more could he want?

  Alex drew his bare finger over the collarbone revealed by her open shirt, his finger hesitating near the crucial fastening over her breasts. He raised mocking eyes to hers. “Next time, we’ll have to find you a neckcloth.”

  He said nothing more, but strode past her toward the stairs. Evelyn remained where she was, feeling the path of Alex’s touch burning against her skin, and acknowledging the heated sensation of her breast brushing against the soft cotton. He could see beyond her crude disguise to the woman beneath, and she felt naked at the thought. Even though they would not remain man and wife, he knew her as a husband would, and she could never erase the memories of those nights.

  Her heated blush carried out into the cold as Alex threw the larger trunk into the wheelbarrow and balanced a small one on his shoulder. She had not finished packing the big trunk, so it weighed less than the little one. She eyed her husband with skepticism as she drew on his gloves and watched his ease of handling the heavy boxes. “Would it not be wiser to put both in the barrow?”

  Alex grinned and nodded toward the wooden handle of the heavy cart. “I have my doubts that you can push that much, but we’ll have to give it a try. No one in his right mind would expect to see Mrs. Evelyn Hampton pushing a grubby wheelbarrow.”

  As his audacious plan finally sank in, Evelyn glared at him in frustration. Push a wheelbarrow! Of course no one would expect a lady to push that heavy monstrosity through the street. Only a villain of the first degree would think of it! Refusing to buckle under his mocking stare, she wrapped her gloved fingers around the splintery wood and lifted.

  The wheel was loose and wobbled hither and yon as she tried to balance the awkward load. If she tilted it up comfortably to stand, the barrow nosedived toward the ground. If she bent over to level it, her back and arms strained to keep it balanced and moving. Cursing whatever madmen had invented this demented instrument of torture, Evelyn shoved her unwieldy cargo toward the street. Alex’s chuckle behind her only spurred her on.

  Easily balancing his own burden on one shoulder, Alex walked beside her, whistling as if it were a sunny day in June. Bent over the barrow as she was, watching her load lest it tilt and spill, Evelyn relied on him for directions. Occasionally Alex juggled his burden to reach out and push her hat down more firmly against the rising wind. Avoiding the main streets, he took the narrower alleys whenever he could, but the rutted dirt was no easier for Evelyn to manage than cobblestones. She bit back her curses as Alex’s whistling halted.

  “I see uniforms ahead, little tyrant. We’re almost there. Are you willing to take a chance?”

  She felt as if her arms would fall off, and her legs shook so badly that she wasn’t certain they would traverse the distance to the wharf without collapsing. But freedom lay at the end of that street. She had to do it. “I’ll pay you back for this someday,” she said from between clenched teeth as she once more heaved the heavy load forward.

  “And here I thought I was being helpful. I had every expectation of vast rewards for my kindness in rescuing you this day. If you do not appreciate my thoughtfulness, you can leave the trunk here and saunter on down to the loading dock alone.”

  “Viper,” she muttered, trundling the cart out toward the wharf. “Devil. Bastard. Villain.” Each new bump of the wheel brought forth another curse.

  Beside her, Alex hailed one of the soldiers with whom he was apparently acquainted. While he stopped to converse, Evelyn kept on trundling. She dared not stop her momentum for fear she would never pick up her burden again. The wind off the water whipped painfully at her cheeks, and she prayed the overlarge hat would remain in place.

  She found a sailor in a dinghy waiting for her. The man offered a startled glance at her call, then hopped up the steps to lift the trunk from the barrow. Behind them, Alex’s voice could be heard approaching, to the accompaniment of more than one pair of footsteps. Not daring to look, Evelyn clambered into the dinghy in a pretense of aiding the sailor in loading the trunk.

  On the dock above, Alex continued talking to the soldier. “I daresay we’ll take the evening tide,” he was saying nonchalantly. “Don’t want to risk carrying an illegal load, you know. Evelyn’s at her uncle’s saying her farewells. She’s been a damned good sport about all of this.”

  “I suppose the earl took care of the fines?” the soldier asked. “It’s a shame to treat a lady like that. You know, she must have been tricked by some bounder. I never did believe she was guilty.”

  The stranger’s voice seemed falsely sympathetic to Evelyn, and she kept her head down as they drew closer.

  A new voice joined the conversation. “You had a fine way of showing it, Captain.”

  Evelyn gulped, recognizing the newcomer as Sam Adams. He would know her clothes if nothing else. She prayed he would have the wisdom to remain silent.

  “It’s water under the bridge, gentlemen.” Alex spoke lightly but with an undertone of tension that Evelyn recognized as he attempted to dismiss his companions. “I wish I were able to stay and see how all this plays out, but I must own I’m eager to be home again. In case I do not see you before we sail, it’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

  “Are you taking that lad with you?” the captain asked in puzzlement as he noted the wheelbarrow left on the dock and the boy in the boat.

  Sam Adams spoke up. “Mr. Hampton kindly offered to give me a few books he brought with him from London. The lad’s to fetch them back for me. These bones grow too old to take the icy wind on the water. Hampton, I expect you and your wife to keep in touch. You’ll be sorely missed.”

  After glancing into the dinghy, Adams clapped Alex on the back. As Evelyn held her breath, the old man grabbed the elbow of the red-coated officer watching with suspicion and steered him in the direction of the nearest tavern. “Let us get in out of the cold and leave the gentleman to his preparations. I do not envy him a voyage at this time of year.”

  His voice trailed off as they walked away, and Alex finally climbed into the dinghy with the second trunk. His hand brushed her hunched shoulders. “I’m going for your mother now. Toby will see you to your cabin. Will you be all right?”

  Her silent nod had to be sufficient answer. Alex returned to the dock as the tiny boat rowed out toward the great ship anchored in the harbor.

  With dread, Evelyn realized one of his maje
sty’s navy frigates was in the harbor. It could give chase if necessary. And Alex still had to get the rest of his passengers on board before the troops discovered she was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 23

  Noon came and went before the Neptune was prepared to sail. Alex boarded last. He waited at the rail as the canvas opened and the anchor was weighed. The chilling north wind brought spitting snow, and gradually, the soldiers slipped away from the wharf. The last of the idlers transferred to the taverns and the mob to their homes.

  The wind caught the canvas, the Neptune moved out, and Alex heaved a sigh of relief. He felt like Gulliver escaping yet another strange land. He was ready to return to the sanity of home.

  The thought of home raised new problems. He had spent foolish hours imagining having Evelyn to come home to, her laughing gaze and no-nonsense manner sweeping the ghosts from the old hall and warming the rooms with life. He could almost imagine enjoying his father’s isolated abode under those conditions, but that fantasy had been dashed. An annulment would have to be sought in London, not Cornwall. They would be in each other’s pocket in the earl’s town house, but at least there were other amusements to distract them until the deed was done.

  He was getting too old to hunt new bed partners every night. Wondering if the time had come to set up a mistress, Alex started for the cabin. He would see his passengers settled, then find a suitable bunk and drink himself under the table for the rest of the voyage.

  Entering the passageway leading past the smaller cabins to the captain’s dining hall, Alex encountered his first obstacle. Amanda Wellington hurried toward him, a determined look upon her square face. Alex bit back a prayer for mercy. Beneath her gentle, ladylike ways, Amanda Wellington had nerves of steel and the flexibility of a fine-honed rapier. He had the distinct feeling he was about to be skewered.

  “There has been some mistake, Alex,” she began inauspiciously enough.