Rebel Dreams (8 page)

Mr. Hampton sipped his punch and eyed her with disfavor. “A
refusal to learn is a sure sign of a closed mind. And why must you personally
oversee the damned warehouse? It is not very becoming in a lady. You have hired
help.”

“So do you. Why don’t you send
them
to find your
smugglers? There’s no more narrow mind than a prejudiced one, Mr. Hampton. If
idleness characterizes a lady, I shall never be one.”

Usually their arguments stirred a fire in her, but tonight
she was over-weary and depressed. What she needed was a glass of warm milk and
her bed, not this overbearing man and his ill-mannered arguments.

In these last weeks, he had treated her circumspectly,
seeing her only in the company of others. If they whispered together, none
could complain. They were treated with the condescension awarded new lovers and
idiots. Evelyn had easily avoided the temptation of his destructive kisses.
Unfortunately, the more she avoided them, the more she thought about them. And
the more she thought about Alex’s kisses, the further her thoughts strayed,
wondering where those kisses would lead. Despite her exhaustion, her sleep was
not restful.

Hampton, too, seemed to be under some strain, but she could
not imagine what it might be. He idled the day away in taverns and in the
company of his new Tory friends, then spent the evenings escorting her from
drawing room to drawing room. They had even attended a rout at the governor’s
mansion and a musicale at the lieutenant governor’s. Such a life could scarcely
be considered a strain, but there were taut lines at the sides of his mouth,
and the mocking gleam of his dark eyes had lost some of its glitter. At times
it was almost thoughtful.

He was staring at her that way now, not taking her up in
badinage as usual, but apparently considering her description of a lady.

“That’s only fitting, I suppose. I never felt called upon to
be named a gentleman. Why should I expect you to behave as a lady? I have never
been fond of the company of idle twits, but there is something to be said about
occasional idleness. I will take you home early, and you will sleep in late in
the morning. That’s an order.”

Evelyn wondered if he had taken leave of his senses, but in
the way of all good parties, another couple arrived and interrupted their tête-à-tête.
Before long Mr. Hampton was caught up in an irate discussion over the use of a
generalized writ of assistance to search the house of one of the merchants the
night before, and she was left discussing the latest coiffures from England
with her aunt.

Thomas Henderson arrived to politely exchange greetings, and
finding Evelyn without male company, offered to escort her to the dance floor.

Too tired even to feel animosity toward the handsome lawyer,
Evelyn declined. “It has been much too long a day to play the butterfly all
night, Mr. Henderson. Perhaps you could just escort me over to my cousin
Frances. I haven’t said a word to her all evening.”

Bowing, he took her hand as she rose, and placed it on his
arm. They made their way around the perimeter of the room to the corner where
Frances was holding court. She had come into favor with some of the Harvard men
when they learned of her impending connections, and she was wielding her charm
as briskly as her fan.

“Your cousin is an enchanting child, Miss Wellington,” Mr.
Henderson said. “I daresay she will soon be following you into matrimony.”

The panniers of her skirt kept her escort at a distance, and
Evelyn was untroubled by the familiarity of the gaze he bestowed upon her. She
had known Henderson since she was a child and was well aware he looked at all
women like that—one of the many reasons she detested him. He was taller than
average, and his ascetically narrow face and pale good looks were attractive to
most women. She supposed, like Alex, he just liked to keep in practice. She had
never given him any reason for amorous displays.

“One certainly hopes Frances will marry soon,” she replied
with a cynicism that would make her escort proud. Her cousin was still sulking
over Evelyn’s “capture” of the most eligible man in town.

“Have your plans progressed any further in disposing of your
father’s interests in the warehouse? I’m sure once you are in England with your
husband, we will seem very far away here.”

Evelyn sent him a wary gaze. “I have made no plans to
dispose of anything, Mr. Henderson. The trust only provides that my share in
the warehouse goes to Alex as dowry when we marry. You forget, I have a younger
brother who will one day wish to claim his share.”

“I drew up your father’s will, Miss Wellington. He leaves
you sole executor of his estate. If it should become advisable to sell Jacob’s
interest, you have the power to do so. It might be more beneficial to invest it
elsewhere. As a friend of the family, I only wish to make you aware of that.”

“I thank you for your concern, sir.” Curtly dismissing the
topic of her only livelihood, Evelyn turned her attention to greeting the other
young people around Frances.

***

From across the room, Alex watched as the smarmy lawyer
persuaded Evelyn onto the dance floor. Henderson was agreeable enough and had
put himself forward a time or two to help in his inquiries, but Alex could not
like the way the man looked at Evelyn as if she were a slab of meat to be
gobbled up.

Shouldering his way through the throng, Alex reached Evelyn’s
side just as the music ended. She glanced up in surprise and, he almost
imagined, relief.

Taking her hand in his, he nodded affably at the lawyer. “Thank
you for taking care of my
fiancée
while I neglected her. She is very patient with my foibles.”

“It is always a pleasure to have Miss Wellington’s company.
I’m willing to be of assistance anytime.” Politely, Henderson bowed over Evelyn’s
hand and departed.

Evelyn stared after Henderson with surprise. “He has always
found me too argumentative before.”

Alex stifled a grin and started for the doors open to the
terrace. “There are times when you would do better to keep your tongue still,
but on the whole, I prefer your waspish tongue to simpering silence.”

She shot him a suspicious glance. “Your praise overwhelms
me, sir,” she answered dryly. “Why are we going out here? Are you finally
taking me home?”

“I have said farewell to our hostess for you. I thought you
might enjoy a little fresh air before we find the carriage.”

Her uncle’s grandiose carriage was another sore point
between them, but Evelyn didn’t disagree this time. “Sometimes you are almost
considerate, Mr. Hampton. It is a terrifying thought.” Crushing the tender
leaves of lavender from the garden, she tucked an aromatic bouquet into his
buttonhole.

Alex halted and swung her around. He circled her waist and
studied her pale face. “Sometimes I even terrify myself, Miss Wellington. Like
now, when I wish to scold you for working too hard. I know it’s none of my
business, but there’s no need to worry yourself ill. I really can handle the
matter of the smugglers without more than occasional information from you. You
needn’t stay awake nights fretting over it.”

Evelyn tried to step away from his hold. “You fail to
understand the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Hampton. Please let me go.”

“I understand a good deal more than you give me credit for,
but as long as your uncle is the customs officer, you need not worry over being
found out,” he told her. “Wellington Storage will be the last place to be
searched.”

“That’s what’s so unfair,” she whispered, looking away to
the overhanging branches of an apple tree. “They’re using me, and I am losing
my friends because of it.” Catching herself, she turned back to meet his
puzzled look. “Let’s go. I am tired.”

He was missing something here, but Alex wasn’t certain what.
Her expression clouded his thinking: both wistful and slightly rebellious. He
knew that feeling too well himself. He didn’t know why someone surrounded by
loving family and friends would feel that way, but he could sympathize. He could
do more than that.

Cupping her hollowed cheek in the palm of his hand, Alex
succumbed to the temptation of those lips he had mentally forbidden himself.

Evelyn briefly struggled, but she succumbed without much
protest. Telling himself he needed just a little reassurance to pay for his
endurance, he slanted his lips against hers and braced his hand at her back.

Her kiss was tentative at first, just feathery touches to
the edge of his mouth as if unsure of the welcome she would find. His pulse
raced faster when her palm rested above the thudding of his heart. His kiss
became more daring. The magic hadn’t receded but had intensified over these
last weeks. As he returned her passion, he caught her up in his arms, and the
only thing preventing them from more pleasing proximity was the pressure of her
hands upon his chest.

Evelyn breathlessly turned her head away, though she made no
attempt to leave his arms. She rested her cheek against his shoulder as Alex
pressed kisses against her hair.

“Do not do this to me, Alex, I beg of you. It is not seemly,”
she begged.

“Seemly. That’s a fine word.” Alex held her until both their
pulses slowed to normal. “You are right. This is not seemly. We should be in
the privacy of our chambers with only a bed to see us.” He felt her jolt of
irritation and smiled grimly to himself. That should be sufficient to restore
them to their usual footing and put an end to temptation.

Evelyn shoved from his embrace, and lifting her skirts,
started down the path to the street. Alex caught up with her, taking her arm
through his.

“You’re an unmitigated bastard,” she hissed, trying to jerk
her hand away.

“I wouldn’t be the earl’s heir if I were that, now, would I?”
The carriage was waiting, and he helped her in, signaling to the coachman to
pull out.

“I doubt that you are any such thing. While the House of
Lords may be filled with dunderheads, I doubt that they are all degenerates
like you.”

Alex sat back against the cushion across from her and
chuckled. “Then let me not introduce you to the vices of the lords in the
Hellfire Club and their peculiar associates, my dear, if you think my natural
suggestion is degeneracy. The shock would be too great for your feeble heart.”

“Feeble! I can assure you there is nothing feeble about me.
I’m just being sensible, and I suggest you be the same, Your ‘natural
suggestion’ can only lead to one conclusion, and I have no desire whatsoever to
be shackled to a rake or an earl’s heir or whatever you are. You’d be wise to
remember we are a trifle more moral here than in London.”

“Is that so? Then the custom of bundling over here is only a
rumor? And I suppose when betrothed couples like your friends Sally and Henry
tell their parents they are spending the night with friends, they really and
truly are with friends and not with each other? And of course that buxom
barmaid down at the Goose serves only drinks. Morality abounds, I can tell.”

Staring out the window, Evelyn didn’t deign to give him a
reply. All his charges were true, but she couldn’t make him see the difference.
Bundling happened in the country only when the couples already had an
understanding but little time together because of the miles between their
houses. And if Sally and Henry spent the night together with the same friend,
it was only a few weeks until their marriage and to be expected after waiting
years to have the money to set up housekeeping. The barmaid—well, the barmaid
might be immoral, but she did provide a service of sorts. It simply wasn’t the
same as what Alex was suggesting.

The carriage halted and they climbed out. To Evelyn’s
surprise, Alex sent it on without him. She jerked her hand away and started for
the door. He grabbed her waist and steered her toward the alley leading to the
kitchen gardens.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“It’s difficult to tell. When I’m around you, I become quite
irrational. I had some notion of speaking with you in private.” The irritation
in his voice was obvious.

Evelyn hurried to keep up with his long strides. On a garden
bench beneath another apple tree, she took a seat and refused to go farther.
Her mother was within screaming distance of this spot. “So, talk.”

Alex paced rather than sit. “I have traced two of the shipments
of brandy to where they are stored, but storage and ownership are two different
things. I have men working on discovering the owners, but we know where the
goods are. Another of the companies should be revealed after today’s shipment
is followed. Unfortunately, the fourth, the Stockton Company, had a driver who
eluded my men. He disappeared in the woods near Sudbury. Unless we can find
some other means of tracing them, they will escape our net.”

***

In the window above the apple tree, hidden by its
branches, Jacob Wellington leaned out to catch the murmur of voices below. He
could see the giant shadow of Mr. Hampton and recognized the glints of blue
from his sister’s gown. They always got quiet when he was near, so he knew they
discussed something they thought unsuitable for childish ears.

Somehow, he would like to make them see that he was old
enough to help. Ever since the Sons of Liberty committees had started meeting
in the tavern, he had been attending on his own. That meant the patriots
trusted him. Why couldn’t Hampton and his sister?

He frowned as he caught the words “smugglers” and “Stockton.”
It took more phrases and a brief argument when they both raised their voices
for Jacob to realize they were conspiring to catch smugglers. He knew smuggling
was illegal and that the redcoats would come and tear a man’s house and shop
apart looking for illegal goods, but he also knew that almost every man with a
ship indulged in it.

He was familiar with the Stockton Company too. His uncle had
taken him there to help load some crates last autumn. Jacob knew his loyalties
belonged with Evelyn, but he couldn’t help worrying that maybe she was mixed up
in something she shouldn’t be. She’d been awfully unhappy these last few weeks
since the Englishman had come into their lives.