Silverswept

by Linda Ladd

  Douglas Compton's face rose in her mind along with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Despite all the gossip about his reputation, he had been ready to offer her marriage. He had given her a job when Donovan had not wanted her. He had given her a wonderful debut in his theater, and she had rewarded his friendship by running away with Donovan without a thought to Douglas's feelings. What must he think of her? He would be so hurt, and he would probably lose a small fortune if he had to cancel Lear.

  It was a terrible thing for her to have done to him when he had been so kind to all of them, giving them plum roles, even star billing. He didn't deserve such treatment.

  Her chin rose with resolve. No matter what Donovan thought of him, she owed Douglas an explanation. In person, not through some impersonal note sent to Rosalie by Donovan. She would dress and go to the theater. Rosalie would be there, and she would explain everything to both of them. It was the least she could do. After that, she would come home and do everything in her power to persuade Donovan to change his mind. Her course decided, she sat back to channel her thoughts, determined to formulate the best argument possible with which to win Donovan to her way of thinking. She pondered for a long time, decided it would be best to wait until they were in bed together, then discuss it with him. Yes, she determined with a confident smile, that was exactly where she would beg him to reconsider.

  Chapter 15

  Douglas Compton crumpled the note from Rosalie Handel and flung it from him. Damn MacBride! Just when he was ready to ask Alysson to marry him, just when she was ready to accept, MacBride decided he wanted her after all. No wonder Lord Tyler detested the man enough to want him dead. Not only was he a formidable adversary in their secret war; he was a personal enemy as well.

  Agitated, he moved to the windows and stared out into the rainy morning, trying to think of a way to do away with MacBride once and for all. Assassination seemed plausible; Douglas had several good men who could do it and make it look like an accident. MacBride's death seemed the only way to wed Alysson now, since she had gone freely to MacBride. The idea of her running off as she had rankled, and his jaw clamped into a hard, tight line.

  A cloaked figure hurrying down the block past his house caught his eye and he pushed back the lace drapery for a better view, starting in shock as he recognized Alysson. When she reached the theater doors and found them locked, she looked around as if undecided what to do, and Douglas ran into the hall to fling open his doors. A fine rain was beginning to fall, and he hurried down the steps and across the street before she could leave.

  "Alysson! I saw you from my windows! What you you doing here?"

  He looked down into puffy, red-rimmed green eyes, and, elated, took her hand.

  "What is it? You've been crying, haven't you?"

  Drops pelted them as the rain came harder, and Alysson pulled up the hood of her cloak.

  "I came to talk to you and Rosalie, but the theater's closed."

  "I canceled the rehearsals, but come, you're getting all wet. We'll talk about it in the house."

  Alysson allowed him to hurry her across the street and inside, dreading the conversation they were about to have. She waited while he gave her cloak to Henrietta, then walked with him into the parlor.

  "Are you all right, my dear? I've been very worried about you."

  His solicitous concern did not help Alysson's guilt over what she had done to him, and she looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

  "I only hope that you can forgive me for last night. It was unforgivable for me to go off with Donovan without telling you first."

  Douglas's anger rose like a cornered snake, but he did not allow it to show. “I was more hurt than angry, and I was worried because I thought your marriage to MacBride had been annulled."

  Alysson took a deep breath. “I love him, Douglas. I can't help it. I've loved him all along, but I wasn't sure he really loved me until last night. I never meant to hurt you, please believe that."

  Douglas kept his face in iron restraint, but inside, he cursed MacBride to the deepest pits of hell.

  "I can't say that I like it, but you know that your happiness is the most important thing to me."

  She should have known that Douglas would be understanding, Alysson thought, but somehow his kindness made her feel even worse. She let him pull her down beside him on the sofa.

  "Alysson, I can understand what you've just told me about you and MacBride, but I cannot understand your decision to quit the play. You were a sensation last night.” He gestured toward several newspapers scattered over a low table near them. “All accounts are giving you rave reviews for your performance. It's mad for you to even think of giving it up."

  Regret took hold of Alysson and wouldn't let go. Tears welled, and angry at herself, she dashed them away.

  "I don't want to give it up, but Donovan insists upon it. He says now that I'm his wife, it would be improper for me to continue on the stage."

  So that was the reason for her tears, Compton thought, hardly able to contain his satisfaction. MacBride was a fool after all. His refusal to let her perform was exactly what Douglas needed to drive a wedge between them.

  "But that's absurd. Many fine actresses continue their careers-after they marry. Rosalie Handel, for example. She was on the stage for years before her husband died. It makes no sense."

  "I know. I feel the same way, and I intend to try to make him change his mind. He is really a very reasonable man, Douglas, and I'm hoping perhaps Rosalie will help me persuade him. That's why I was looking for her. Really, I should be going to Mrs. Thackeray's now to speak to her."

  She began to rise, but Douglas caught her arm and held her beside him, an idea forming in the back of his mind that might very well be the answer to ail his problems.

  "But there's no need for you to go out into this storm again. Rosalie's coming here for lunch, before the hour is out. And so are Edgar and Adam, so you would probably miss them if you left now. You see, I called a meeting this morning so we could discuss what should be done about Lear, now that you have dropped out."

  "I really am very sorry for causing all this trouble for you, Douglas. You've done so much for me, for all of us—"

  "Don't please, there's no need for apologies. It's not your fault, now is it? Everything is going to be all right, don't you worry. As you said, Mr. MacBride is a reasonable man."

  "I appreciate your understanding, Douglas. You are very kind."

  Douglas smiled down at the genuine gratitude in her face, thinking things couldn't go any better for him if he had planned them himself.

  "You will stay and talk to Rosalie, won't you? Or is MacBride waiting somewhere for you?"

  "No, he had some business at the Tontine."

  "Good, but I'm afraid I have an important errand that I have to take care of before Rosalie and the others arrive. It won't take long, so please make yourself comfortable. They should be here any time now, and you can tell them I'll be back shortly."

  Alysson stared at the rain spattering the windows for a time after he left, then as lightning flashed outside, she grew uneasy and moved to the window in time to see Douglas descend the front steps to where his coach waited at the curb, the gusting wind billowing his dark cape out behind him. Thunder rumbled as he departed. Alysson turned as Henrietta brought a tea tray for her. She took a cup of the hot brew gratefully, then moved restlessly around the room, wishing Rosalie would come. She wanted to be at home when Donovan arrived there; she was anxious to try to reason with him again.

  It was still hard to believe they were really married, that he really wanted her for his wife. Vivid pictures of the night they had shared in his big carved bed brought tinglings through her body and a deep rosy color into her high cheekbones, and though she stood alone, she was embarrassed by the intense longing she felt to be entwined in Donovan's arms again. She picked up one of the newspapers, wanting to get her mind off such unsettling thoughts.

  It was folded to the review of the play, and she read it
eagerly, smiling at some of the kind remarks, not only about her but about her friends as well. One remark about Billy delighted her particularly, and she hoped he would come along with Rosalie so she could show it to him. She read another account, also quite complimentary, and she wondered whether Donovan would relent and let her continue as Cordelia if she showed them to him.

  The rattle of a carriage outside caught her attention, and relieved that Rosalie had arrived, she hurried to the window. She gasped at the sight of a shiny black coach, a silver M upon the door. Shocked to a standstill, she put her hand to her mouth as the door opened, and Donovan stepped down into the rain. How had he known she was here? She thought in dismay, as Brace descended after his brother. Both men looked back as Douglas's carriage rolled to a stop just behind them. Worms of foreboding writhed in the pit of her stomach as Adam and Douglas joined the MacBride men. Her fears intensified as the four men moved up the steps, and a moment later, when the parlor door opened, she stood paralyzed as Donovan's black eyes found her. She flinched, for never in her life had she been subject to a look so full of icy contempt and cold loathing. He looked away without a word, and the other three men stared at her, their faces somber. Donovan spoke to Brace, his voice low and totally devoid of emotion.

  "Take her down to the coach while we complete the arrangements."

  "Wait,” Alysson began as Brace took her arm.

  "You had better come along before there's any more trouble,” he murmured under his breath, and Alysson looked at Douglas in confusion as she was led past him.

  "Don't worry, my dear, everything will be all right. I'll see to it."

  Alysson saw Donovan stiffen at Douglas's soft reassurance, and cold tension lay over the room like a clammy glaze. She was glad when she could leave.

  "What has happened? How did you know I was here?” she asked Brace as soon as they reached the front steps, and he glanced down at her, his eyes as cold as Donovan's had been. He opened the door of the carriage without answering her questions, then walked away.

  Alysson was surprised to find another woman already in the coach. As Jethro slapped the reins and the carriage lurched forward, knocking Alysson back into the cushions, she cried out to the woman with her.

  "Where are we going? What about Donovan and Brace?"

  The woman eyed her with pure malice. “As distasteful as I find it, my brother has asked me to escort you back to his house."

  It was then that Alysson realized the woman was Olivia, the sister Odette had seen with Donovan on the Halcyone during the flotilla. The woman continued to stare silently at her, looking very much like Donovan when he was the most angry. Her dark wavy hair was pulled back in smooth wings at the temples, lightly sprinkled with silver, but her eyes were light blue, the color of ice, as she held them with unblinking hostility on Alysson's face.

  "I don't see how you can ever look yourself in the mirror again if Donovan is killed today,” she intoned bitterly.

  Alysson's face went white. “Killed! What do you mean?"

  Olivia shook her head, her anger coming at Alysson like pointed steel spikes. “Don't play the innocent victim with me. I see through your young and vulnerable act, as my brothers could not. You know perfectly well that Douglas Compton challenged Donovan to a duel."

  Alysson sat frozen, but Olivia continued, her eyes narrowed. “In front of everyone at the Tontine, just as the two of you planned it, so Donovan had no recourse but to accept the challenge."

  Alysson could only stare at her, stunned. “No, I don't believe it. Douglas would never do that. Why would he do such a thing?"

  "You are quite a little actress, aren't you? Donovan must have been insane to have married you. That's why we were at the Tontine with him, so he could tell us the good news."

  Her sarcastic insults had no effect on Alysson, who thought only of Donovan's danger. “We must go back and stop them! It's all a terrible mistake! It's got to be!"

  "The only terrible mistake was the one Donovan made by marrying you. And you couldn't stop anything now, even if you tried. Donovan has too much honor and too much pride to back down after all the things Douglas Compton said in public. You've shamed us all, the whole family. You've ruined our good name."

  "What did Douglas say? Please, you must tell me!"

  Olivia leaned forward, her fists clenching in fury against the black silk of her skirt. “He said Donovan took you by-force last night, then made you give up your career. He said you had come to him, begging for his help, seeking refuge in his house. Do you really have the gall to deny your part in all of this, when we found you waiting there for him?"

  Alysson's teeth caught at her lower lip as she realized how guilty she must appear to all of them, especially Donovan. She had been so angry at him when he had left that morning that he might really believe she had done what Douglas had told him. But why would Douglas tell him such things? How could he have misunderstood her? He couldn't have misunderstood her, he couldn't have! He had wanted to challenge Donovan, she realized suddenly, trying to control the fear burgeoning inside her. Her voice quavered alarmingly when she tried to talk to Olivia.

  "None if it happened that way, I swear it, I swear it on my mother's grave. You must have Jethro turn around so I can explain to Donovan. I have to explain it to him!"

  "Even if you were telling the truth, and I don't believe a word you say, it's too late now. And frankly, I don't think Donovan will ever want to see you again."

  Olivia turned her gaze to the rain-blurred afternoon outside, and Alysson stared at the angry lines of her profile, horrified, unable to believe that the terrible nightmare was really happening. Olivia was right. It was her fault for going to Compton's house. What had she done? She asked herself again and again as the coach rattled over the rain-slicked cobblestones, a helpless, hopeless, freezing fear descending over her until she could not breathe.

  A wet, clinging mist hung low over the Hudson River early the next morning, giving the water an eery appearance as the long boat from the Halcyone was rowed toward the dueling fields of Weehawken Heights, New Jersey. Donovan sat in the bow with Brace just behind him, and no one spoke as the four crewmen with them leaned their backs into their task. When the keel of the boat scraped to a stop on the sand, Donovan stepped out first, looking up to a steep, rocky elevation covered with small trees and tangled bushes. The grassy fields stretching out above the water had seen the blood of countless men who had come there to defend their honor or that of a friend or lover, and one of the finest men Donovan had ever known, Alexander Hamilton, had been mortally wounded in this very spot seven years earlier. Donovan had sworn on the day that great patriot and statesman had died so needlessly from Aaron Burr's bullet never to duel again, and his face hardened to think he had been forced by Compton to break his vow.

  Douglas Compton was known for taking pride in the duels he fought, and Donovan was overcome by an intense desire to kill the bloody bastard now that he had the chance. But he couldn't do that. Not with Adam firmly entrenched in the Compton camp. They had been able to pass along valuable British information to Washington, and Compton's death would destroy Adam's years of infiltration in the English spy network. As much as he wanted to aim his pistol for Compton's heart, Donovan wouldn't.

  He turned as Brace stepped from the boat, the gold-hinged ebony box which held their father's dueling pistols in his hands. He tried not to think as they climbed the short distance to the field. Compton had chosen Adam Sinclair for his second, and Adam had had no choice but to accept. Donovan stood silently waiting as Adam and Brace met a short distance away to examine and load the pistols, with Dr. Whittingham standing by as a neutral party and surgeon, should one be needed. He tried not to think of the other times he had stood waiting in such a way—in Venice when Marina's cruel and sadistic husband had fallen beneath his bullet. Donovan had aimed to kill that time, to free her from the constant, senseless batterings that she had endured, and the memory gave him nothing but disgust. Alysson's latest treach
ery came to him then, and he felt lethal rage rising in his chest, slowly, steadily, like steam in a kettle. He forced himself not to think of her, of the way he had felt when he saw her in Compton's house, waiting for him. He slowly emptied his mind, pouring it all out, all thoughts, all emotions.

  "Adam says Compton plans to turn a fraction early and fire before you get all the way around,” Brace said softly, handing Donovan a loaded pistol. “He's out to kill, so he'll aim for your chest. Take a long step to the left when you turn."

  A few yards away, Douglas smiled to himself as Donovan removed his coat and vest, handing them to Brace MacBride, before he turned to face Douglas. He wore a white shirt with ruffled cuffs and dark breeches, and he had a relaxed, coiled quality about him, like a stalking panther. When Douglas met those black eyes, he found them unreadable, deadly, frightening. He found himself slightly unnerved as he hadn't been before when facing an opponent. He had always prided himself on his marksmanship; he had killed nine men on this very field, and he meant for Donovan MacBride to be the tenth and most satisfying.

  Most of the others had been old men with whose wives he'd had a dalliance, or young hotheads angry with him over their sister's seduction, but MacBride was deadly with a pistol and had emerged the victor each time he had dueled. Douglas had challenged MacBride in order to have a legitimate excuse to kill him, and he wasn't about to let him walk away alive. In a very short time, Alysson would be a widow, and Donovan MacBride would cause him no more trouble.