“Let us retire to the drawing room. I will attend to your refreshment if you promise not to disappear on me. I would hate to scourge the house such as this one for you.” He smiled. The shape of his mouth caught her attention. A slight smile formed on his lips, an arrogant smile much as if he realized the effect he had upon her. Then he added, “But I would.”
Once more, she felt herself at a distinct disadvantage. She eyed him cautiously and then dismissed her apprehension. It would matter little in the morning, she told herself. What harm could come from an innocent flirtation with a handsome man? In all likelihood, she would never see him again.
She nodded politely and allowed him to lead her to a seat near the large vaulted window, which gave her a full view of the crowded room of unfamiliar faces. She gave little thought to the guests. Without question, Lord Lenister held her interest. She watched him walk out the door. She wondered for the moment why was he dispensing attention upon her. She quickly dismissed flattery…that his attraction to her lay with her appearance.
She had long ago comprehended her birth presented a large obstacle to overcome in the eyes of the ton, even with the title of Lady Eloise D’Arcy Granville, the daughter of the late His Grace, the fifth Duke of Rotheward. She glanced around the large room while she waited. Then suddenly a strange feeling surged through her as if someone were watching her.
She turned her head abruptly and meet the avid eyes of a man standing in the far doorway. He was a short middle-aged man, dowdy, in fact, with red pudgy cheeks, but without question he eyed her intently. He had a familiar look. Then to her horror, his face brightened and gave her a weak smile.
Panic welled within her with the comprehension of why he seemed familiar. Calm. Stay calm. Surely he would not acknowledge me. Eloise maintained her composure as she sat rigid without a hint of emotion, while desperately trying to assess the situation. Her gaze held firm upon the man. Then he made a step forward toward her, halting only when Lord Lenister entered back into the room.
The stranger nodded to the earl. Eloise straightaway recognized a look between acquaintances. Although for the life of her she didn’t understand the stranger’s presence, she understood the need to withdraw…and quickly.
She rose and gathered up her skirt. With great effort, she exited in a dignified manner out the open side door to the veranda. The warm night gave pause to more than a few guests cluttering the terrace. Ignoring the beauty of the decorative scene, she scurried down the steps into the garden. She escaped only to the far entrance where she collapsed upon a bench.
“Why are you running?”
Her head lowered. She chose not to answer. What good would an explanation do when the words would go unheeded? And what did she owe this man…this stranger?
Lord Lenister stalked up to her and pulled her to her feet. “I asked you a question, Lady Eloise.”
“I needed fresh air, my lord. Nothing more. Pray, release me. You are hurting my arm. I wish nothing more than to retire.”
“And run again? There is to be no more running. I suspected such before my appearance here tonight. Confirmed by the vicomte’s identification. Did you not think that you might be recognized eventually, my dear?”
“I have only a few months more to contend with these functions and then…”
“Then what? What exactly do you have in mind?” Both his hands gripped tightly her shoulders. She had no choice but to look him straight in his eyes.
“Why is it a concern of yours, Monsieur? Why do my actions concern you?” Frazzled, she broke into her native French.
He answered her back the same. “Because I need your help, Mademoiselle. I need your help.”
FRAGMENTED by Colleen Connally
Book One- Boston’s Crime of Passion Series—Coming December, 2013
WINDS OF BETRAYAL SERIES
THE CRY FOR FREEDOM by Jerri Hines
Book One, Winds of Betrayal
A rousing family saga for the fight for America’s independence. Follow Hannah and Jonathan Corbett’s path to Freedom!
The winds of change brews over the colonies. Tension against the crown is mounting daily. In Williamsburg, the rebellion burns strong in the hearts of two siblings, Jonathan and Hannah Corbett. Spirited and headstrong, Hannah finds herself thrust in the middle of a conspiracy when her father receives a strange package from Philadelphia. Jonathan, a physician for the Continental Army, is torn between duty and family. With war looming on the horizon, the siblings soon discover there is a high price to be paid for the cry for freedom.
The saga continues…
EMBRACE OF THE ENEMY
Book Two, Winds of Betrayal Series
In the midst of the struggle of America’s bid for independence, Hannah Corbett makes a fateful decision, descending into a world of deceit. Spurred by revenge, she heads to New York, setting in motion a dangerous game from which there is no return. Searching desperately for the man who betrayed her family, she faces the cold and brutal reality of the life of a spy. Caught in a web of lies, living with betrayal, she is trapped. She has nowhere to turn except to a man it would be treasonous to love, setting duty and desire at war. Her heart is ripped apart when she must choose between the man who risks his career and life to protect her and the only thing that has remained constant in her life…her belief in her cause.
EXCERPT
Hannah arose to the morning of the 22nd of September with the smell of smoke lingering within the air. The terror of the day before the conflagration of the city had dissipated into a different kind of fear. The fire had been quenched. Although for a time it had seemed impossible to check the flames.
Fleeing Patriots had supposedly set the fire. Bells from the churches had been taken out by order of the Provencal Congress. Confusion reigned.
Sleep hadn't come for her. She closed her eyes tightly, but all she could see was darkness descending down upon her. Don't panic, she told herself. Gabriel could have never left her like this, not caught within the city. She had waited and prayed for a miracle. Her ears keen upon any sound, any movement, but none came.
She dressed herself in a simple gown for she didn't know what else to do. She walked into her grandmother's room, who was sleeping soundly, having no idea of the goings on around her. She descended the stairs. Mrs. Hayes seemed all the flutter with excitement.
“Mr. Clay is beside himself. He wants the house cleaned immediately. We're expecting visitors. Of course you wouldn't know, Miss Hannah, but your grandfather is prominent with the Tory circle. We can expect lots more visitors, I can tell you,” Mrs. Hayes sighed. “I just can't be expected to get the house into order with all this smell of smoke and dust.”
“Is Grandfather within his study?” Hannah asked. She watched Mrs. Hayes nod, but then the woman escaped into the kitchen. Hannah stood alone within the foyer.
Hannah paced the foyer, jumping back when the study door opened. Her grandfather emerged from the room with a small group of British redcoats. Hannah swallowed, hoping against all hope that he didn’t notice her apprehension of their presence. His expression soured as he caught sight of her waiting. She ignored the gesture. “Are we to go now?”
“You aren't going anywhere, Hannah. I’m not saying this more than once. I don't want you out in this for any reason. Is that understood?” he admonished her.
She disregarded the others present. She pleaded, “But Grandfather....” She paused. He shot her a look that she comprehended well. She sidestepped and let all pass.
A young handsome lieutenant glanced back over his shoulder, giving her a small nod. She ignored him,. Reason didn't play well with her instincts to run. She had an instinctive need to leave this house, an overwhelming sensation of impending doom.
She didn't know how long she stood staring at the door, but she could stand it no longer, grabbed her cloak and without one word to anyone, walked out the front door.
The stiff air greeted Hannah as she ventured forth. Logic played no part in her decision, only
her urge to leave.
She walked.
She walked by her church, which still stood untouched, but the further she walked, the more destruction she discovered. Businesses had been rioted. Men ran into buildings and returned with arms full of merchandise. On the next street a small band of British soldiers chased the rioters. She walked by the Beekman mansion, which lay near the East River on Manhattan.
Havoc reigned.
People and soldiers ran rampant. Hannah sat in the gardens not far from the Beekman mansion, which seemed to be overrun with Redcoats. She sat without a word and stared.
Voices startled her from behind, but the words weren't directed at her.
“I don't know where else we are to put them. I don't believe the Sugar House can hold more. Has to be more than two hundred held upon the supposition that they were incendiaries to the fire,” one voice commented.
“General Howe is in no mood to be lenient.”
“The poor soul this morning, but I s’ppose there had to be made a statement, Arthur. Don’t you think?”
“Think? I think that if this is any indication of the intelligence of the Americans, then they are indeed not long to deal with. The spy signaled our ship. No question about his intent. Drawings and papers damned him without a debate. General Howe ordered the execution without even a trial.”
“But I will give that his spirit was strong. Although from his appearance, too gentle a disposition for the role he was supposed to have played. I found him to have a
consciousness of rectitude, even dealing with Cunningham. He destroyed the letters I let the poor fellow write his family. Told me that the damn rebels shouldn't know that they had a man in their army who could die with so much firmness in his beliefs.”
“I know you, Captain Montresor, haven't seen eye to eye over much with Cunningham, but we are at war. He may be too brutal by half, but maybe that's what the Americans need at the moment. Hit them hard and they won't come back with this ridiculous notion of independence.”
“So, Arthur, you weren't impressed with the spy's last words. My only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country. You think that we are going to suppress our colonies quickly with that heart felt passion for their cause.”
Hannah stood up, the voices trailing away. A spy hung! She had seen a crowd around artillery park by where Henry Rutgers took up residency. She needed no reminder of what they did to a captured spy; a disgraceful death hung out for a warning to all; a warning to her of the dangerous waters she tread; the possible consequences of her actions. But a draw pulled her toward the crowd.
The gallows established in front of the park. Among the crowd of people, she made out a hooded form, which hung from a stout apple tree. Beside the corpse a signboard propped up of an old soldier with Washington written upon it. She stood frozen, not able to move.
She stared at the lifeless body. A reminder instead of what she was fighting for, unquestioned belief in this new country. Her father had believed, her brother. Their deaths couldn't be forgotten, ever. She thought of the unquestioned fear they all must have faced when the noose placed around their neck, tightened.
Tepper's word echoed. “You will be needed, my dear. Make no mistake about it. Congress has tarried too long on this issue. Don't wane in your beliefs for they will be tested in the days to come. You have a job to do. Don't lose sight of the cause. Your mission is more important than any of our petty concerns. I have faith in your ability. Put your emotions aside. I know all too well that those can eat at one's soul. What better revenge than to beat them at their own game? You ask what I expected out of you- information, my dear, information that will bring the British down.”
The wind picked up, blowing her hood back, but she stood thus, staring at the body hanging out for all to see.
* * * *
The last few days had gone well. Colonel Marcus Durham set foot again in New York, now back under control of the British. A beginning at least on settling this rebellion. Pressure had mounted on him from Britain. King George wanted a quick settlement, not willing to compromise in the least.
Marcus could foresee issues that would arise. He had lived among these people and understood their steadfastness. Over the last few years he had spent more time in the colonies than in his homeland away from family and friends. He had no doubt the British would eventually Be successful, but this matter would take time and lives. But this was also war. The worst kind. A war against their own.
Chaos ensued after the initial invasion, which now had begun to dissipate. Sleep hadn't come for the last thirty-eight hours and he didn't expect any in the foreseeable future. The latest briefing had gone well, though. The Americans were on the run. Marcus only hesitated because General Howe seemed reluctant to go after the Continental army.
He expressed his opinion, which differed from Howe's and he had only the rank of Colonel.
He stepped out of the Beekman mansion, which served as British headquarters. A gray haze greeted him. One young officer bumped into him as he crossed the yard for his horse.
“Sorry, sir. I wasn't looking where I was going. My attention turned,” the young officer apologized.
“Quite all right, Lieutenant,” Marcus nodded as he continued on his path. He gave pause when he heard the two's conversation.
The other laughed. “Simon, you should have been honest and said your attention was upon a young woman.”
“I'm telling you, she's Clay's granddaughter. I met her this morning. He told her quite plainly to stay within the house. She must not have listened,” he said. “I need to escort her back. I don't believe the old man will be happy with her.”
“Not because she's a beauty. Not here twenty-four hours and you have already made eyes at a woman.”
Marcus turned to the two officers. “Hold there. Of which do you speak? Alexander Clay? His granddaughter is down here?”
“Do you know of him, sir? I was over to secure his home this morning. The General gave orders to take care of our Tory families. The girl,” he pointed toward the crowd. “Wanted to go out. He refused. But I can swear I just saw her at the hanging spy.”
“I'll look into it,” Marcus dismissed the two. The Lieutenant hesitated. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant....”
“Fletcher, sir. No, sir, but I would be happy—”
“You're dismissed, Lieutenant,” Marcus interrupted the young officer, who sighed and walked reluctantly away.
Marcus strolled over to the crowd doubtful he would find her. The notion it would be Hannah seemed distant, but he rounded the bend a lone figure came into view. She stood in the haze.
He walked up behind her. “Hannah?”
She turned around. Her face drained of all color. She had never seen him in his finely cut uniform and white powdered wig, a moment necessitated before he saw the recognition flood through her.
She shook her head. Tears she had held back flooded her face. She tried to turn from him, but he held tight. He could feel her shiver and her legs giving way. He drew her into his arms and she cried.
He led her from the display, back into the gardens. She broke from his embrace and wiped her cheeks. “I'm sorry.”
“You should have never seen such,” he said, holding back the words he wanted to ask, such as why she was here. Instead, he tried to soothe away the remembered horror. “It was understandable.”
He brushed back her hair that had fallen onto her face. A sadness lived within her once bright eyes; she had lost weight. He was puzzled, though. He hadn't thought she would have still been within New York.
“Marcus,” she said softly. “The poor soul that hung. I heard...” She swallowed. “He didn’t know what he was doing?”
“I don't believe so,” Marcus stated. His eyes studied her intently. “It didn't seem he was prepared for what he intended.”
“But he was brave, the officers said. They said they were impressed by his gallantry.”
Marcus nodded acknowledgement of the fact. She fa
ced him. “Was my father? What of William? Tell me. Did they leave letters? Were they scared?” The questions rolled off her lips, but her tone waned with each question into almost a whisper.
Tears swelled back within her eyes with an almost infantile quality. His hand instinctively pulled her back into his shoulder and stroked her hair. “Hannah, I wasn't there. I'm telling you in truth I wanted neither to have endured that punishment, but I heard they both meet their fate honorably. I don't believe anyone could've questioned their bravery or honor.”
Marcus didn't move, but held her such. A light breeze picked up along the river's edge. He had much work still tobe done, and this young woman wasn't supposed to be his concern. But he was content at the moment and admitted to himself that he was glad to have found her thus.
Seductive Lies Page 24