Rebel Dreams (27 page)

She yearned for the strength of his hand in hers when she
reached the altar and had to wait for the minister to intone the words that
released her from her uncle’s possession into Alex’s. When Alex finally stood
by her side, replacing her uncle, she felt comforted. His fingers were strong
and sure as they wrapped around hers.

The ceremony spun past, unheard, until she realized Alex was
studying her with a look she knew well. As the minister asked her to “love,
honor, and obey,” Alex’s dark eyes gleamed appreciatively, and Evelyn fought an
urge to ask if she might not reword that vow. Her groom looked as if he half expected
it, but she surprised herself by answering, “I will.”

Alex’s response showed no hint of hesitancy. The ring slid
smoothly on Evelyn’s finger after she removed her glove. Ignoring the minister,
Alex lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss where this symbol of his
possession gleamed. The heat of his hand and his bold gaze prevented hearing his
vows as he took her as his wife.

This was all it took to seal them into eternity? A few words
seemed a paltry exchange for a lifetime of servitude.

The music told Evelyn when the ceremony ended, but her new
husband’s arms as he claimed his kiss finalized the moment. It was no modest
peck, but a full measure of his desire, leaving Evelyn oblivious of gasps and
titters. She was his, and he let the whole world know it.

Once Alex released her to face the crowd, she was flushed, but
her smile felt as if it might light the room. Her groom proudly took her on his
arm, and the ladies all dabbed their eyes.

Only Evelyn heard Alex whisper as they neared the vestibule,
“Is it time for bed yet?”

Biting back a laugh, she trod on his foot as hard as she
could. He had to hide his wince as the first of their guests greeted them.

The church bell rang as the earl claimed the bride’s kiss,
and Amanda happily bussed her son-in-law’s cheek. Hesitant to step into the chilly
wind, the crowd lingered, exchanging greetings and laughter and tears.

Oddly, bells were still ringing as they left the church.
Alex handed Evelyn into the carriage and like royalty, the crowd escorted them
through the streets.

However briefly, they were alone, and Alex took her hand. “How
do you feel?”

“Nervous. Terrified. And you?”

“Witless,” he agreed, stroking her palm. “But it’s done and
I have no desire to turn back. I’ve never much cared for other people’s
opinions, but I find myself striving for your approval. Do you think that might
go away in a few months?”

His question sounded almost hopeful, and Evelyn laughed.
Alex never did what was expected. As much as it might infuriate her at times,
she loved him for it. She would hate it if he doted on her all the time, but
she wouldn’t feel appreciated if he did not occasionally tease her like this.
He had found a happy medium that left her content in his company. Except when
he was kissing her, which he evidently meant to do. He leaned over her with a
dangerously laughing look.

Fearing she would be truly tumbled before they reached her
uncle’s, Evelyn forestalled him with a gloved hand to his chest. She tilted her
head at the puzzling noise from outside. “The bells are
still
ringing.”

Alex peered between the carriage curtains. The growing
darkness prevented seeing far, but he cursed.

He dropped the curtain, and Evelyn caught his hand. “What is
it?”

“That’s the signal that an English ship has arrived. This
time, it could very likely hold the stamps.”

Evelyn dug her fingers into her palms and prayed. Rumors had
been flying for weeks. The governor remained protected on his island fort
surrounded by British troops. Rumor had placed the tax stamps there days ago,
but no one had the facts. Whoever held the hated things was in certain danger.
Boston had been filling with angry farmers and unemployed laborers for days.
Such a mob wouldn’t be satisfied until the stamps were destroyed, and this time
violence looked likely.

“It can’t come to weapons, Alex. Surely it cannot. We would
only lose against armed forces. The stamps can’t matter as long as there is no
one to distribute them.”

Alex wished he could reassure her, but there were those who
talked of war. The tax had become a symbol of tyranny. He foresaw no simple
solution. “There will always be someone like your uncle willing to seek
influence and wealth by pleasing the crown and taking the distribution
position. If the stamps have arrived, they will be used. Your friends are well
aware of that.”

“My friends? Are they not yours too? You must persuade them
from this folly, Alex. They will not heed me, but they will heed you. Can you
not keep them from using violence?”

Alex shoved his hand beneath the irritation of his wig. This
was to be his wedding night. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was
talk a hotheaded mob out of the violence they were bent on. He wanted champagne
and his wife, not necessarily in that order. He turned his gaze back to Evelyn’s
pleading, adoring look and cursed. It was easier being a villain than a hero.

“Let me find out what is happening before deserting our
guests.” Alex’s reward was a smile replacing his wife’s anxious expression.
Being a hero might be hard, but he had developed an aversion to losing Evelyn’s
misplaced confidence. He squeezed her fingers as if he knew precisely what to
do and everything was in control.

***

The Upton house had undergone extensive repair since the
night of the riot, but the library remained closed. The guests circulated through
the wide hall and spacious parlor and through the connecting doors that had
been thrown open to the formal dining room.

For a time Evelyn could see Alex towering over a circle of
men in a far corner of the parlor. He occasionally lifted his champagne glass
to her with a smile of promise, but it was no easy task to cross a roomful of
well-wishers to stand at his side. The next time she looked, the circle of men
had dispersed, and Alex was gone.

Discreetly, Evelyn worked her way through the parlor,
greeting old friends, exchanging laughter, until she reached the dining room.
The earl had spared no expense in supplying the wedding feast. The table was
piled high with delicacies from the sea, but it was also harvest time, and the
number of vegetable dishes exceeded the imagination. Even the lowly pumpkin had
been converted to spicy tarts, and the pastry table alone was enough to make
one’s mouth water. The crowd around the table was so dense that Evelyn had to
stand on her toes to scan through it, but unless Alex were seated, he was not
here.

The hall was less populated but contained no trace of Alex
either. Disappointed that he had not thought to warn her of his departure, she
started down the hall to the parlor again.

Voices from the closed library brought her to a halt. Cautiously,
she looked through the partially open door.

The room was unlit, but the earl’s voice was clear. “I still
think you ought to leave the contents of that packet here with someone in
authority. Surely there must be someone you can trust with the information. It
is like walking around with a cannon shell in your pocket. You’re a married man
now, Alex, you cannot continue inviting trouble.”

“There is no trouble if we’re the only two who know of it. I’d
rather be responsible for keeping explosive material safe than leaving it in
the hands of someone who might use it for other purposes.” As if a sixth sense
warned him, Alex looked up. “Come in, my dear. You have found us. Are you ready
to leave?”

Evelyn heard the suggestive note in his question, but in
irritation, she dismissed his attempt at diversion. “What explosive material
are you carrying? If I am to be blown sky-high with you, I should have the
right to know.”

Alex stroked her nose. “Calm down, little tyrant. We are
only speaking figuratively. I was about to come looking for you. It seems a
ship has landed on Castle Island. I fear I have to leave and might be a little
late getting back.”

That was dismaying, but not unexpected. It wasn’t as if they
were a romantic couple. Evelyn shook off his pacifying finger. What dangerous
material could Alex and the earl possess? A sudden suspicion came to mind. “You
have the information on the smugglers, don’t you?” She turned to the silent
earl. “You found out their names. Who are they? Why has no one given them to
the court?”

Alex caught her by the waist and pulled her against him. “Leave
this to us, Evelyn. My first concern is for your safety. Now, give me a kiss
and go back to your party as if nothing has happened. No one will be hurt, I
promise.”

His mouth closed over hers, silencing her protests, but
frightened, Evelyn bit his lip and eluded his grasp. “You can’t do this, Alex
Hampton. I have a right to know. I’m the one suffering for their crimes. Tell
me who they are!”

Alex stalked toward the exit. “I’ll not be dictated to at
this late date. I’ll see you later.”

They were both too angry to see the shadow dart out of sight
of the partially open door.

The carriage took Evelyn home from her uncle’s, alone. She
didn’t know when Alex would return, but she preferred not to have anyone
witness the scene when he did. The ache in her heart nearly matched her anger.

He knew the smugglers! Blast the man, did he think her a
fool? If he had turned that information over to the court, she could be free
today, without the threat of fine or jail hanging over her.

That realization hit her with the force of a punch as she
climbed the stairs to her lonely bedroom. Alex had the evidence that could set
her free. Did he hold it so he could force her to leave with him?

Dropping down on the expensive bed he had bought for this
night, Evelyn shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. Alex had said
they would be married whether she willed or not. He had let the banns be cried
despite her protests, knowing he held the key to her future. He had known she
had no choice but jail or him. Why? Why would he do such a thing?

It made no sense. She had no wealth, no power, no name. The
fear that she might carry his child was a specious one. He had only to wait a
few weeks to know if his fears were confirmed. Besides, he had bedded other
women without such concerns. He could have bastards scattered all over creation
by now. Why would he force her into this marriage by withholding vital information?

She paced the room, unwilling to undress and wait for him to
appear. How could she be wife to a man who would treat her so cruelly? Was Alex’s
name on that list, or her own?

That didn’t make sense. He must be protecting someone. But
whom? And why?

The questions would drive her to madness. She could not lie
here all night and quietly go insane. She wasn’t some passive, helpless female
he could order about.

Working at the fastenings of the lovely wedding gown she had
once hoped Alex would divest her of, Evelyn shoved aside all lustful thoughts
and yanked off the gown. Sumptuous folds of silk and satin crumpled to the
floor, held up only by the panniers she had untied and let fall with them.
Stepping out of the puddle of fabric, she jerked open the bottom drawer of the
armoire and pulled out the breeches she had vowed never to wear again. It had
been a stupid, romantic notion that she could please her husband by always
appearing as a lady. Alex probably wouldn’t even notice the difference.

Within the half hour Evelyn was slipping along silent, dark
streets in the direction of Castle Island. If everyone had gone on boats to
intercept the English ship, she would be out of luck, but she didn’t think they
would risk such a foolhardy attempt without a great deal of discussion. The
island couldn’t be seen from land, but she knew the closest wharf, and the
closest tavern to that wharf. She wagered that was where she would find the
plotters.

She disliked entering taverns where she was not known. She
lingered in the shadows outside, waiting to see or hear someone she knew before
entering. The angry shouts from the tap room did nothing to reassure her. It
was difficult to distinguish voices through thick log-and-clapboard walls. It
could be a sailors’ quarrel for all she knew. Pulling her hat further over her
eyes, she shrugged back her shoulders and pushed open the door.

She found no sign of Alex, but she immediately recognized
the inhabitants of the largest table by the fire. Slipping into a darkened
booth nearby, she ordered an ale and sipped at it as she listened to their
argument.

She was disappointed that they made no mention of Alex.
Surely this was where he had come to put an end to the foolish notion that they
could storm the castle. But it seemed they had heard no words of caution. All
their plans involved the number of men who would volunteer and the quantity and
quality of arms that could be employed. An angry dispute broke out over the
possibility of converting the militia into an army to be used against the
British troops. Evelyn’s fingers bit into her palms.

They were talking war.

Realizing it was pointless to advise caution when the
argument was over the extent of hostilities without any consideration of
peaceful solutions, Evelyn paid her fare and slipped into the street again. She
had accomplished nothing but wasting away the hours of her wedding night. What
if Alex had returned to find her gone?

Hurrying back toward the house, she debated the question. If
Alex wasn’t here dissuading these fools from their course, where was he? Did he
deceive her in this too? How could she return obediently to the bed of a man
who kept secrets and manipulated her to his own uses?

She would rather seek explanations than refuse him outright.
She wanted desperately to believe, so desperately that she rushed home to his
bed.