Alex entered from the earl’s chamber, and his grim weariness chased away Evelyn’s fears. Tomorrow she would worry about titles. Today her husband needed her calm and reasonable. She gave Deirdre a handkerchief and helped her compose herself.
“We’ve sent for Alyson and a physician, but in this storm it will be a while before they can arrive.” Alex stoically removed his own handkerchief and offered it to Evelyn to mend her tear-streaked face. “The solicitors and the newspapers and a number of others will have to be notified. Will you be all right here?”
Evelyn nodded. “Have someone go to my mother. She has some sleeping powders that we might need. I’d like to have her here.”
As Deirdre composed herself, Alex awkwardly offered his condolences. “You’ve known him as long as I, Deirdre. I wish he could have been my father. He was the closest I ever had to one. He loved you dearly. He wouldn’t want you to grieve.”
“I know. I know.” Deirdre held the handkerchief to her nose for a minute. “I’ll be all right in a while, Alex. It’s just . . . I didn’t expect it!” This last came out as a wail, and Evelyn caught her in her arms again.
“Neither did I,” Alex said harshly, as if blaming his cousin for these unfortunate circumstances. Unable to say more, he stalked out.
“I’m making it harder for him, I know,” Deirdre whispered into her handkerchief. “He can’t cope with emotional outbursts, but I know he loved Everett in his own way. They fought all the time, but they respected each other. Everett was so proud of how well Alex has been doing, and he was thrilled with your marriage. He said Alex couldn’t have made a better choice.”
Evelyn let her wander on. It seemed the wisest thing to do. There was a gaping emptiness in her own life, knowing the charming man in the next room was no longer there. She didn’t want to imagine what Deirdre must feel.
Amanda hurried in a while later, concern lining her brow. She quickly took charge, sending maids for tea and ordering Deirdre back to bed. With relief, Evelyn let her take over. Her own emotions were too raw.
Alyson arrived on Rory’s arm and broke into tears at sight of Evelyn. Again Evelyn opened her arms and cried silently as her new friend poured out her heart. Rory looked embarrassed and ill-at-ease, and Evelyn sent him in search of Alex. Alex needed someone with him.
The physician arrived, and various solicitors, and soon Alyson was called to consult with them, and Evelyn found herself abandoned. The cold breakfast in the dining room didn’t appeal, and she flinched every time a servant addressed her as “milady.”
A butler wearing mourning black entered the salon where Evelyn sat morosely contemplating a cabinet of curios. He bowed and waited for her to acknowledge him.
At Evelyn’s nod, he announced, “A gentleman to see you, milady. Lord Cranville was too busy, but the gentleman asked if he might have a word with you before he departed.”
“Who is it, Burton?”
“A Mr. Franklin, milady. An American, I believe.”
The name seemed familiar, and she nodded acquiescence. Anyone braving the icy streets outside deserved recognition. The snow had stopped, but she could see from the window that the world was coated with an icy frosting of white.
A footman introduced a stout plain-clothed gentleman in old-fashioned bob wig to the salon. Evelyn sat on the sofa beside the velvet draperies at the window, and he approached with a gleam of masculine appreciation.
“Mrs. Hampton, I’m Benjamin Franklin, from Philadelphia. I hope I do not intrude.”
“You have caught me at an unhappy moment, I fear, sir, but your journey into the snow should not go unrewarded. I have sent for tea and coffee. Would you have a seat?” Evelyn regarded him with curiosity. She remembered Alex mentioning him now, and she studied him as the maid laid out the table. He had a kindly face, with intelligent eyes that seemed to smile at some private joke. She rather liked what she saw.
“I will not stay long if it’s inconvenient, but Mr. Hampton mentioned that you were from Boston and concerned about events there. I’ve received a letter from a friend in that city, and I thought you might wish to hear what he had to say.”
Evidently no one had seen fit to inform him of the earl’s death and Alex’s new status, but Evelyn was in no hurry to correct the omission. The mention of Boston held her attention. “When was the letter written? After the Stamp Act went into effect? What is happening now?”
He sipped at his steaming coffee. “Your husband called you a flaming rebel. Will you be pleased to hear that the courts have, indeed, been closed down? That much business has come to a halt and ships are trapped in port with no legal means of loading or unloading?”
“I know we will suffer in the short term, but in the long term, is it not for the better? Surely Parliament will see that we cannot be forced to give up our rights. Tell me more.” Evelyn sat forward eagerly.
“Well, the situation becomes a little complicated. Without courts, a man cannot sue for payment of debts, so there are those who do not pay simply because they know they can’t be made to. On the other hand, those nearly ruined by this economic crisis can’t be sent to jail. Many ports are allowing ships to leave with letters to the effect that no stamps were available to franchise the cargo, but the owners risk imprisonment if they try to sell their goods in England or the West Indies without the stamps. Those who refuse the risk have laid off their crews, and Boston is filling with unemployed, disgruntled sailors. It is the same in many other cities. I fear it will be a cruel winter for many.”
Evelyn sighed and closed her hands around her cup as she stared into it. “I stand to lose all that my father made, but it would be no different if we had accepted the stamps. There was no cash to pay such a tax. I don’t believe they would have accepted payment in flour. I wish there were some way to help. If Parliament would only act swiftly, some end could be brought to this tragedy.”
“Perhaps you can help. Parliament is made up of men with minds that can be swayed. What is happening in the colonies has them concerned. Now they need to hear the voice of reason. What better way than to have you whispering in their ears at their homes while people like me bellow at them in their offices?”
Evelyn gave him a slight smile that showed she understood, but she shook her head. “You have found the wrong person for that. Even if I knew any of these men or was invited into society, they would not listen to such speech from a woman. But you see before you a house of mourning. Lord Cranville died last night. There will be no society for me for some time to come.”
Franklin became instantly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I had not realized his illness was so serious.” His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “If you would forgive me my presumption, I believe you are underestimating the situation. You may not engage in the frivolities of the season, but in the days to come, the most influential families in the country will visit to pay their respects. Politics might not be an appropriate subject in a house of mourning, but it will give you an opportunity to meet the people who most need influencing. All that I ask is that you keep that in mind.”
Evelyn pondered what Franklin had said after he left. She disliked being useless, and she had felt worse than that these last months. Franklin’s suggestions didn’t sound very effective, but he had given her something to think about, and she badly needed that.
Caught up in his own grief, pressed by the demands required of the new earl, Alex retreated behind his wall again, and Evelyn saw little of him. She spent her days with a grief-stricken widow and daughter, greeting their visitors, maintaining a flow of conversation when Deirdre stopped in mid-sentence or Alyson drifted off to another world.
She learned to order the servants to bring tea, to announce when they weren’t accepting calls, to answer their questions when Deirdre retreated to her chambers. If she pretended she was home running the warehouse, it wasn’t too difficult, and it occupied the time.
The evenings were worst. No one called then. Alyson went home to her husband and children. Deirdre was litt
le or no company. And Alex was seldom there. Gratefully Evelyn turned to her mother, aunt, and cousin for company, but they were feeling as if they imposed on a house of mourning. Increasingly they spoke of traveling to Surrey to visit relatives.
Late at night Alex would come to their bed, but if Evelyn fell asleep first, he didn’t disturb her, and he would be off again before she woke. Most nights she tried sitting up and reading until he arrived, but he was inclined to be surly and uncommunicative. Their lovemaking was often frantic, as they poured out their fears and frustrations in this physical act rather than speak of them.
Lying beside him, she closed her eyes and tried to remember those times when they had laughed and loved together. But that was before the responsibilities of an earldom had come upon them, and she greatly feared she would never see that Alex again.
Having abjured responsibility for the greater part of his life, he took it seriously now. Evelyn caressed his broad back and wished she could relieve some of his burden.
Franklin’s suggestions kept coming back to her. She had feared and deplored being called countess, but Franklin had been right about the influential people crossing their doorstep. Alex was seldom home, but Evelyn had accepted condolences from aristocrats she had never dreamed would be more than vague names to her. Some disdained her colonial accent, but the truly well-bred among them greeted her with more curiosity and politeness than disdain. She had a chance with them, if she tried.
Did she dare try? Would Alex appreciate her turning the gracious salons of Cranville House into tea parties for Whigs and Tories? She feared he wouldn’t, but she could not make the idea go away. Although her beliefs were pure Whig, there was little sense in preaching to the converted. Alex’s title put him in a position to be coveted by the influential Tory party, and it was there that she must lay her groundwork.
Thomas Henderson came to express his sympathy and ask if there were anything he could do. Again he pressed for the details in the packet about the smugglers, and Evelyn uneasily remembered she had promised to look for it, but that problem seemed too distant. She distracted him with talk of the people she had met and asked about all those he knew. By the time he left, he had learned nothing, but Evelyn possessed a few more valuable pieces of information. If she meant to make her scheme work, she needed to know these people as well as they knew each other. It wouldn’t be easy.
Alyson was of no use. She had never cultivated society and spent most of her time in Scotland. Evelyn doubted that she knew the difference between Whig and Tory or even cared. Rory was shrewd enough to have connections in the political world, but asking him questions was tantamount to asking Alex, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. Deirdre was her best hope.
After that first emotional week, Deirdre regained some semblance of control, but Evelyn often found her lost and drifting down some empty hall with no notion where she was going or why. She needed focus as much as Evelyn.
Entertaining was out of the question, and they could not be expected to begin their round of visiting yet, but Evelyn had urged some of their more sympathetic callers to come again, and to her surprise, many of them did. She started with these people, asking Deirdre questions after they left, learning of their lives and relations.
When Franklin called again, Evelyn made certain Deirdre was there to talk with him. One of his quips actually brought a ghost of a smile to the older woman’s face. Afterward Deirdre was the one asking questions.
A comment from Rory at dinner one evening brought the realization that Alex actually meant to take his seat in the House of Lords, and Evelyn’s hopes soared. Alex should have been the one to tell her, but she would respect his need for privacy as long as he came home to her every night. And he did.
When he began bringing home some of the men who thought as he did to drink and talk and map out strategy in the comforts of his study, Evelyn felt triumphant. If Alex was making this step, he couldn’t object if she did the same. If only they could work together, she would be in heaven.
Her mother decided to travel with the rest of the family to visit relations in Surrey rather than impose on newlyweds and a grief-stricken widow any longer. Evelyn protested, but her mother was immovable. By the time Parliament came into session, she was gone.
Soon after that, one of the partnership’s smaller ships arrived in port. Rory decided Alyson should sail home on it before her pregnancy advanced further. At this desertion, Evelyn wanted to cry, but she bit her lip and reached for Alex’s hand instead. He was home early for a change, and he too seemed stunned by this departure. He merely squeezed Evelyn’s hand and wished them a safe journey.
Later that night, when Evelyn prepared to retire to their chamber, Alex left his study to join her. He remained silent as they ascended the stairs and traversed the upper hall. Instead of going directly to their bedroom, he threw open the door to the sitting room and led her in. That made her uneasy, but Evelyn held her peace as he poured them both some wine.
She didn’t know whether to sit or stand, and she took her clues from Alex. When he began to pace, she remained standing. If he wouldn’t relax, neither would she. Tensely she watched his elegantly garbed form stride back and forth. His thick black hair was pulled back in a plain queue, his lace had been discarded for immaculate linen, and while his dark coat and white vest sported golden buttons, they had none of the elaborate embroidery and trim that he had once worn. It seemed now that he was lord in truth, he need not dress the part any longer.
But his clothes weren’t what she had seen in Alex. What she loved in his appearance was the determination of his square jaw, the occasional flashes of vulnerability in his dark eyes, the strength of his muscled shoulders, and the grace with which he carried himself. He could be naked and she would still be attracted to him. Even more attracted than with clothes, she admitted wryly as he stopped before the fire and turned to face her, legs spread as if on the deck of a rolling ship.
He took a deep breath and his dark eyes glittered. “Have I made you very unhappy, Evelyn?”
The unexpectedness of the question left her temporarily speechless. She gasped, set the wine aside, and fiddled with the draping of her black velvet gown while she tried to compose a sensible reply. None came. Then she looked up to the pained look in his eyes and knew there was only one reply she could make.
Crossing the room, she lifted her arms around his neck and pulled his head down so that she could brush feather-light kisses across the taut muscle of his cheek. “Events might make me unhappy, but you have given me more happiness than I ever dared expect. My only regret is that we have so little time to share together.”
Alex set aside his glass. His mouth found hers, and she fell into the elation of his kiss. A shudder swept through her as Alex gathered her into his arms, and she pressed eagerly into him, clinging to his shoulders as he lifted her from the floor, and their lips melted together with the sweetness of joy as much as need.
“Oh, God, Evelyn, I’m so afraid of losing you. I don’t know what you see in me or why you stay, but help me understand what I need to do to keep you.”
His arms held her so close that his buttons pressed into her breast. His lips trailed fire along her cheek, and Evelyn turned her head to seek them once again before replying.
“Love me, Alex,” she whispered. “I need you to love me. You don’t have to say the words, just show me. Hold me like this, make love to me, and talk to me. I need you to talk to. I’m so alone, and I need you. Don’t shut me out, Alex, please.” She was pleading with him. She knew she was pleading with him. She had never meant to beg, but he had opened a door and she wanted in. His kisses were the fire in her hearth, and she would freeze to death without them. Eagerly she sought his mouth once more.
To her surprise, he didn’t take the opportunity she offered to undress her or carry her off to bed. Instead, Alex took a chair beside the fire and pulled her into his lap. His kisses were gentle, and his hand merely cupped her breast as he spoke.
“I
promised you wouldn’t have to be a countess for many years. I didn’t mean to lie. I miss him. There’s this huge hole that he’s left behind, and I don’t know how to fill it. I wanted the title once. I thought I deserved it. I thought people would have to start listening to me then. I was a damned arrogant pup. Everett showed me what it took to be a Cranville. He did it with such ease. He was always so genial to everyone, but he commanded respect. I don’t know how he did it. I haven’t got the knack. He was always there when we needed him, but he had enormous responsibilities. How did he do it? How did he manage to seem idle and accomplish so much?”
“Fifty years’ experience might have helped,” Evelyn offered dryly. Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not your cousin, Alex, and weren’t meant to be. Yes, he was charming and genial and probably idle because he delegated his duties to everyone else. That’s the way he was, and he was loved in spite of it as much as because of it. You’re too intense, too determined, to live as he did, and I love you in spite of it as well as because of it. I wouldn’t want you any other way. But it would help ease the long, lonely hours if I knew you would come to me like this at the end of the day.”
Alex traced her cheek with his finger and brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’m not used to having anyone to talk to,” he admitted. “It’s not an easy habit to break. Couldn’t I just seduce you? I have a lot more experience at that.”
The rakish quirk of his lips warmed her to the bones, but Evelyn placed an admonishing finger across them. “I scarcely need seducing. I’m no challenge. All you need do is look at me and I’ll fall into your arms. You need more contest than that. You’ll have to seduce me while talking to me. I promise to put up a good fight then.”
Alex chuckled and caressed the hard tip of her breast that proved the truth of her words. “Don’t you think we would talk better in bed?” he whispered as he stroked.
“Perhaps we’ve talked enough for one night. I have a thousand questions I wish to ask, but I cannot seem to recall even one of them right now.”
Rebel Dreams Page 31