Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies)

by Lynette Vinet

Paine looked a bit flustered. “I assumed he knew.”

  “No, he doesn’t. My husband is a gallant man, a man who fights for liberty in his own way. He wouldn’t tolerate any of this and would be constantly fearful for my safety. I don’t want him to worry about me, but I must do what I can to help in this fight. I do hope you understand and honor my request.”

  For a moment Paine looked ready to refuse, but he seemed to reconsider. Taking her hand, he kissed it. “I give you my word, Mrs. Briston. You’re a brave woman, a true patriot.”

  “Such words from you, sir, are high praise indeed.” On the way home Bethlyn almost told the driver to take her to Cynthia’s when the carriage rolled onto Spruce Street, being a block away. She hadn’t seen Cynthia in some weeks, but she changed her mind, deciding that since Cynthia was newly married she might not appreciate an impromptu visit.

  Dusk descended gently over the city, bathing it in a purple-gray light. The carriage had just passed a large, imposing home with two figures huddled together on the porch, causing Bethlyn to blink, unable to believe what she’d just witnessed. It’s a trick of my eyes because of the twilight, she thought, but she tapped furiously on the small pane of glass behind the driver and ordered him to halt.

  Scrambling unceremoniously out of the carriage, Bethlyn paid the driver no mind when he gawked at her as if she were a bit mad. The cold wind stung her eyes and blew her cape about her legs, but she ran the short distance until she stopped behind a hedge planted in front of the house.

  She waited, unaware that she held her breath, until the figure of the man drew away from the smaller one of the woman. To stifle a loud gasp, she covered her mouth with her hands to identify the two people as Ian and Emmie Gray.

  His hearty and sensuous laugh drifted through the encroaching dusk, sounding husky and filled with something so intimate that Bethlyn thought her heart would burst from her chest.

  For moments she couldn’t summon the strength to move. Should she fly up the stairs like a shrew and claw out Emmie Gray’s eyes? Or should she vent her hurt and wrath on her husband? Or both of them?

  Instead she turned away, and soon found herself in the carriage on the way to Edgecomb.

  The darkness outside resembled her soul. Emmie Gray was the reason Ian didn’t stay at home at night, why he sauntered into the house after the clock had long since chimed twelve. Apparently he visited her at that house, and she was almost positive the home belonged to the Babcocks, the family who’d taken in liberty’s newfound heroine.

  “Heroine, my eye!” Bethlyn groused. “Emmie Gray is a strumpet.”

  This was the second time she’d caught Ian and Emmie in an intimate discussion. Now, what was she going to do about it? Tell Ian she knew and risk his learning that she’d followed him to Simpson House to spy on him and his cohorts? Say nothing and pretend everything was fine?

  But nothing was all right and hadn’t been since Emmie Gray mysteriously appeared. The young woman had somehow survived the hostile wilderness, hunger, and extreme cold for days while Bethlyn knew that soldiers at Valley Forge, men who were larger and stronger than Emmie, died from exposure and starvation with little effort.

  Had the woman survived only to find her way to Philadelphia and steal Ian away from a wife who loved him? Bethlyn couldn’t bear thinking about it.

  Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to spill onto her pale cheeks. Had she lost him already? He hadn’t come to her bed in a number of weeks, weeks which were numbered by Emmie Gray’s arrival. She admitted that her mistake concerning Della hadn’t endeared her to him, either. He hadn’t mentioned that incident to her since the day she’d left his office, not even when she’d replaced the money she’d taken.

  Ian treated her courteously, but she’d catch him watching her sometimes, a puzzled frown on his face, as if he totally didn’t understand her. Once she almost lashed out at him, intent on making him reveal the reason why he didn’t seem to care for her any longer. But now she knew.

  Had Emmie taken Ian from her? Did Emmie appeal to the part of him which admired her heroism, their mutual love for liberty? She wished she could tell him about her poetry and prove that she now felt as he did about America’s freedom, but she couldn’t. Ian would, no doubt, believe she’d composed the poems to gain his attention and wouldn’t take her seriously.

  She found herself in a potentially dangerous situation and couldn’t confide in her husband.

  A part of her wished she’d never written the poems or showed them to Mr. Paine. Yet another part found the danger exciting. She doubted her poetry would cause barely a ripple of interest in Philadelphia, and she convinced herself that she was safe from discovery. Thomas Paine was the only other person who knew her identity and he’d never tell on the Dove.

  Her momentary sense of elation diminished to think about Ian with Emmie Gray. Was Emmie Gray her rival? Perhaps not, perhaps she’d built something in her mind which didn’t exist. She had to learn the truth.

  “I believe I should call on the Babcocks and pay my respects,” Bethlyn muttered aloud, and wiped away her tears, already feeling much better now that she decided to take action and end her torment. “Then I shall meet Emmie Gray and decide for myself if this paragon of virtue truly is trying to steal my husband.”

  ~

  Before noon the next day, Bethlyn already had her answer. She’d used Mr. Babcock’s recent bout with influenza as an excuse to visit. Arriving with Pearl, who carried a pot of chicken soup, her specialty, which she claimed could cure any ill, Bethlyn was admitted into the house by a servant. As the maid ushered Pearl to the kitchen, Bethlyn took a seat in the parlor and awaited Mrs. Babcock.

  The frail, silver-haired old woman joined her five minutes later, and it was Emmie Gray who supported Mrs. Babcock by the elbow and helped her to a chair. Emmie, wearing a fashionable but modestly styled green and blue print day dress, sat near to Mrs. Babcock and smiled warmly at Bethlyn. Only Bethlyn was aware when Emmie’s welcoming smile dissolved during the introductions or that her bright blue eyes flickered over her in cold disdain for a fraction of a second.

  “I’d heard Mr. Babcock has been ill,” Bethlyn said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here before today to see if there is anything I can do for him.”

  Mrs. Babcock inclined her head, her low voice sounding soft but clear. “Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your visit, and I shall tell my husband that you inquired about him and brought that delicious soup, too. However, he’s much too under the weather to have guests, I’m afraid. Your husband was here yesterday, but he couldn’t go upstairs. Emmie was kind enough to entertain him.”

  The look of pure triumph which Emmie shot in Bethlyn’s direction confirmed her fears. Emmie Gray was in love with her husband, but was Ian in love with her?

  “Emmie has been a godsend,” Mrs. Babcock continued. “Our dear grandson was all the family we had left until his death. But Emmie has become the granddaughter we never had.” She patted Emmie’s hand. “A gift from heaven, to be sure.”

  Bethlyn thought Emmie Gray was the devil’s own.

  Hidden beneath that pretty countenance, framed by long, silver-gold hair and wide blue eyes which contained an innocence any angel would envy, Bethlyn sensed duplicity. There was no reason why she should feel this way, but she’d come here expecting not to like Emmie, and she didn’t. Something wasn’t right about Emmie Gray, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it might be. Did she feel this way because she’d already decided that Emmie was out to steal her husband?

  “How very nice for you, Mrs. Babcock. I can tell that Miss Gray is a wonderful person,” Bethlyn said without rancor, and pasted a pleasant smile on her face.

  Mrs. Babcock looked tired and very frail. Bethlyn started to take her leave, but the old lady insisted she stay and speak with Emmie, that she must retire as she hadn’t felt well the last few days.

  The maid appeared at Mrs. Babcock’s summons and helped her from the room. Bethlyn and Emmie were left alone, sitting quietly tog
ether until Emmie poured them tea.

  “I do hope Mrs. Babcock isn’t coming down with influenza. She doesn’t seem in the best of health.” Bethlyn added sugar and stirred her tea.

  “I do so worry about her and Mr. Babcock,” Emmie declared softly. “They’ve taken the place of my family.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of your tragedy. I’m very sorry.”

  “Everyone was killed. My … parents … and Baby Tad, my little brother.” Emmie choked on her words as sobs welled in her throat. “No one but me escaped those … those horrid savages!”

  Bethlyn decided it was no wonder everyone had taken Emmie Gray to their hearts. A poor and pretty young orphan, Bethlyn judged her to be about eighteen, but there was something about Emmie which caused her to seem older than her years, more experienced than the innocent and naive facade she projected.

  After a few seconds she composed herself, apologizing to Bethlyn.

  “I understand perfectly, Miss Gray. Tell me, how long do you plan to remain in Philadelphia?”

  “As long as I’m wanted.”

  Wanted by whom? The Babcocks? By Ian? Bethlyn almost asked, but Emmie answered her question for her.

  “Mr. Briston has been most kind to me. I do appreciate everything he has done to help me. He has made me feel most welcome and wiped many of my tears away.”

  Bethlyn placed her cup and saucer on the silver tea tray, deciding to play the Tory wife to the hilt. “That is a puzzlement, Miss Gray. Why should my husband, a loyal servant of the king, take such an interest in you?”

  “I suggest you ask him, Mrs. Briston.”

  “I see no need, Miss Gray. My husband is easily moved by sad tales and pities any unfortunate human being.”

  Bethlyn rose from her seat, and Emmie followed suit. Almost by mutual consent, they squared off, each eyeing the other in veiled contempt.

  “I doubt a man would leave a happy and loving home to travel in the bitter cold because of pity. I suggest you think on this before you ask him anything.”

  Emmie Gray was more of a threat to her marriage than Bethlyn had thought. What had happened between Emmie and Ian for Emmie to insinuate that Ian didn’t love her any longer? She felt extremely shaken by Emmie’s attitude, but she’d never allow her to see her unease. Instead, she remained at eye level with the woman, not blinking a lash.

  Bethlyn managed a tight smile. “If my husband has visited you and offered you his friendship and help, you should place great value on them and not be too sad when he doesn’t visit you as often. I assure you that after tonight, he’ll find no need to visit here unless to pay respects to Mr. Babcock. Good day, Miss Gray.”

  Twirling around, Bethlyn let herself out and was glad to find Pearl already seated in the carriage. Before they drove away, Bethlyn caught sight of Emmie Gray’s face, purple with rage, at the window. For a second she almost swore that the woman’s eyes blazed a deep, burning red, and reminded her of a picture of a demonic creature she’d seen in a book once.

  Why couldn’t Ian see her as she did?

  She must win Ian back to her, make him want her again. A plan formed in her mind, and she giggled aloud. Pearl looked curiously at her.

  “Pearl, when we get home I should like you to prepare a wonderful meal and please serve it in my room tonight.”

  “Are you gonna eat alone, Miss Bethlyn?”

  “No, dear Pearl, I should like a cozy dinner for two.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am.” Pearl winked knowingly.

  20

  “Oh, missus, please forgive me and don’t think bad of me.”

  “Annie, whatever are you wailing about?” Bethlyn queried and began to remove her cloak when she entered her bedroom, Annie on her heels. “Well, what is it?” she asked impatiently when an answer wasn’t forthcoming, growing aggravated by Annie’s constant sniffling.

  She didn’t like to be short with the servants, but it seemed that the more she questioned Annie, the louder and harder she cried.

  “The master will … beat … me.”

  “God in heaven, Annie, what is it?”

  Finally Annie stopped sniffling and raised red-rimmed eyes to Bethlyn. Annie sniffed and blew her nose loudly into her kerchief. “I done promised Miss Molly I wouldn’t say nothing until after she left, but I’m fearful for her.”

  “Is something wrong with Molly? Tell me, Annie.”

  Annie’s lower lip trembled. “I’m breaking my promise by telling you, but one of those foreign soldiers came to the door this afternoon with a letter for Miss Molly from that soldier she loves. She made me help her pack. She’s leaving with this soldier for New York. Her young man asked her to marry him and that’s what she’s going to do. It’s so romantic and all, missus, and I wonder if any man will love me like that. Running away is so sneaky but sweet…”

  Bethlyn didn’t wait to hear the rest. She immediately headed for Molly’s room, startling Molly when she entered without knocking. Molly stood in the center of the room, dressed for traveling in her warmest gown and cloak, her small portmanteau in her hand.

  “Annie has a large mouth,” Molly noted.

  “Never mind her, Molly. I want you to reconsider leaving like this. You may be making a terrible mistake.”

  Molly shook her head in denial. Her eyes sparkled, her usually pale, tearstained face positively glowed with vitality. Bethlyn hadn’t seen her this happy in quite some time.

  “I appreciate your cautious words, Bethlyn, but I think you’re mimicking what you believe Ian would want you to say to me. I know you don’t believe I’m making a mistake. How can I be when I’m going to marry the man I love?”

  Molly went to her and the two of them embraced. Tears shone in her eyes. “I’ll write to you and Ian as soon as I’m settled. I love you both very much, and I will be deliriously happy.”

  Bethlyn didn’t doubt that for a second. “Wait and tell Ian good-bye. He’ll be upset for you to leave like this.”

  Molly smiled sadly. “I can’t do that. I must leave now. I know that if I tell Ian, we’ll get into an argument, and I don’t want to be separated a second longer from Hans. He’d have come for me himself, but he couldn’t get away. An officer in Hans’s regiment is waiting for me with a horse at the back of the house. He’s a good friend to Hans and me; I’ll be safe with him.”

  Bethlyn wished Molly would wait until daybreak, but, like Molly, she knew how time dragged when not in the company of the man you loved. Molly had been miserable for so long that Bethlyn didn’t argue with her. Instead she hugged Molly again. “Please be careful and write as soon as you can.”

  “I will, I do hate leaving you to bear the brunt of Ian’s rage, but there’s no other way, Bethlyn. Please understand.”

  Bethlyn was about to assure Molly that she did understand when Annie rushed into the room, breathless and on the verge of tears to announce that Ian had just returned home and was coming up the stairs.

  “Oh, Bethlyn, he’ll stop me. I know he will!” Molly cried, looking almost like a trapped mouse about to be cornered by a large cat.

  “I’ll stall him somehow. Sneak down the back stairs to the stables, and promise me you’ll be happy, Molly.” Quickly she kissed Molly on the cheek and left Molly’s bedroom only to literally bump into Ian in the hallway,

  “What a rush you’re in,” he said, and placed an arm around her waist, surprising her with his show of affection.

  “I couldn’t wait to see you. This is the first time you’ve been home early in weeks.”

  Ian cleared his throat, but not a flicker of guilt crossed his face. His days as Captain Hawk had forced him to learn to hide his emotions and made him into an accomplished liar. How else could one account for his escaping capture for so long, for allowing the British to believe he was a loyalist? Bethlyn hated his ability to hide the truth, wishing he’d show some qualm of conscience about Emmie Gray. But it was this very thing which allowed her to swallow her nervousness and show a calm demeanor when he asked her where Molly w
as.

  “In her room,” she said truthfully, not adding that his sister wouldn’t be there for much longer.

  “Perhaps I should check on her. I hate for her to hole herself up like a rabbit. It’s time she ends this silliness and takes an interest in life. I know of a fine young man who is clamoring for an introduction to meet her, and I warrant that once she gets into the social whirl, she’ll forget this adolescent crush.”

  Ian made a move to grasp the doorknob, but Bethlyn threw her arms around his neck, rubbing her body suggestively against his.

  “Do you have something on your mind?” he asked, seeming to forget Molly as he nibbled on her ear.

  “Maybe.”

  “Something lewd, I trust.”

  A shiver of raw desire slid down Bethlyn’s backside when Ian clasped her rounded bottom, bringing her to fit snugly against the bulging spot in his trousers.

  “Definitely lewd.” She felt breathless, her senses whirling. “Does this mean that I’m forgiven? I meant only to keep you safe.”

  His fingers placed on her lips stopped her words. “I don’t approve, but I understand. I can’t live without loving you; you’ve become a fire in my blood.”

  With warm hands and heated eyes, he undressed her when she stood beside the bed in her room. He helped her step out of her chemise, her hair spilling across her naked breasts. The sweet, musky scent of her body caused him to lower his mouth to the swelling globes and feast on the jutting peaks.

  Bethlyn moaned. Her fingers threaded through the dark strands of his hair. It seemed that such a long time had passed since Ian had loved her. Her body rekindled with desire for him and the memory of Emmie Gray with Ian faded as a liquid sensation, melting and hot, coursed through every nerve and fiber of her body.

  She’d intended to occupy him so Molly could sneak away, but with each possessive kiss, each stirring caress, Bethlyn forgot all about Molly. She needed to be loved fully, ached to be loved until she whimpered in satisfaction against his hard, muscular chest.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Ian whispered, his lips scorching each satiny inch of her breasts and stomach before he knelt in front of her. His tongue began an arousing journey downward to tease and taste the tempting bud of her femininity.