Rebellious Heart (21 page)

With trembling fingers she took the tray from Phoebe. The slave’s brows lifted with reproof.

But Susanna spun away from her too.

She couldn’t encourage Ben any longer. If she’d ever led him to believe there could be something more between them than friendship, she was sorry. Because there couldn’t be anything. Perhaps not even friendship.

He’d agreed to her offer of friendship when they’d been together in the closet under the stairs. In fact, he’d been the one to tell her there could never be anything between them.

Why had he changed his position now? He should have left things the way they were.

She took another step away from him but couldn’t keep from glancing at him one more time.

He’d dropped his hand and crossed to the hallway. His face was a mask of calmness, but his eyes had turned the shade of a frigid winter storm.

She shuddered as if someone had opened the front door and ushered in the December wind.

“Very well, Miss Smith. I understand your position very clearly.” He swiped his cloak from the coat tree. “It would seem I have made a complete fool of myself today.”

“You’re not a fool. Not in the least.”

“Then perhaps I am a very poor judge of character.”

His words stung her.

But before she could say anything to defend herself, he moved to the door, flung it open, and retreated into the wintry afternoon, letting the door slam closed after him.

The sound reverberated in the empty chambers of her heart and ricocheted through her limbs.

She had just rejected Benjamin Ross and driven him from her home.

And from her heart.

She’d never felt more like weeping than she did at that moment.

The laughter and voices around Ben couldn’t penetrate the melancholy afflicting him. Not even the meeting with Cranch had lifted his spirits.

“How much longer is Lieutenant Wolfe planning to patrol the Weymouth coast?” Cranch asked, peering at him through the haze of pipe smoke that clouded Boston’s Green Dragon.

In their corner spot of the crowded tavern, Ben took a swig of the hard cider, letting it burn the back of his throat, then brought the tankard down to the wooden table with a
thunk
.

“My father’s anxious to resume the usual trading,” Cranch continued. For once, there was a complete lack of mirth in Cranch’s expression. “The barrels of molasses and other supplies are trickling into Boston rather slowly to keep up with the demand. If we can’t supply the distilleries with the molasses they need, they may be forced to buy their sugar from the British.”

Ben ran his finger around the sticky ridge of his mug. Of course, Cranch was worried about his margin of profit now—now that he had a wife for whom he must provide. He
would surely want to keep her happy in the lifestyle to which she was
accustomed
.

“We only want to make sure Susanna will be well situated in the manner to which she’s accustomed.”

Bitterness pooled at the back of Ben’s mouth. Reverend Smith’s words played through his mind for at least the thousandth time in the past three days since he’d made his ill-fated visit to the Smith home in Weymouth.

How could he have ever thought they’d accept him as an equal?

Certainly he knew when he’d ridden to Weymouth that afternoon he’d need to use his best oratory skills to convince Mrs. Smith to allow him to court Susanna.

Yes, he’d expected opposition from her. She was a proud, narrow-minded woman.

But he hadn’t expected Susanna to agree with Mrs. Smith’s declaration that he was a “disadvantageous match.”

The sharp tip of pain pricked his already shredded and bleeding heart.

To be fair, Susanna hadn’t actually verbalized her acquiescence with Mrs. Smith. But he’d seen it in her eyes. He wasn’t good enough.

“So when do you think we can resume our usual transporting?” Cranch persisted. “Will Lieutenant Wolfe want to return to Boston by Christmas?”

“Perhaps.”

Even if he and many of his fellow Congregationalists kept to the Puritan tradition of making Christmas a simple affair, the British Anglicans were much more flamboyant in their holiday celebrations. Lieutenant Wolfe would likely return to Boston for the festivities at the month’s end, if not permanently, then at least temporarily.

Maybe they could take advantage of the lull.

“Could you ride out to Weymouth and gather a report on the situation?” Cranch asked.

Ben stared inside his mug to the murky contents there. Part of him wanted to shout that he’d never ride to Weymouth again. But he knew that was irrational. He couldn’t put his dealings with the Caucus Club in jeopardy because he was angry at Susanna.

“It’s overly risky right now,” he finally said. During his last visit to Weymouth, the lieutenant had sent an officer to stalk him. At least he’d spotted someone dodging his every move from the minute he’d left the Smith parsonage. He’d planned on meeting with the Caucus Club, but he hadn’t wanted to risk drawing any more attention to Arnold Tavern or the other men involved. So he’d gone home to Braintree without even stopping by Mount Wollaston to check on Dotty.

As if anticipating his resistance, Cranch slid a stack of papers across the table. “You can deliver Mary’s letters to her family.”

Ben didn’t touch the bundle. He didn’t want to see Susanna again and Cranch knew it. He lifted his tankard to his lips and took another swig of the cider. The spiciness brought a refreshing sting to his chest.

As he slapped his mug back onto the table, he caught sight of Elbridge Quincy weaving through the crowd toward them. He shoved aside the nagging guilt that he’d placed just as much importance on status and wealth when he’d sought Hannah Quincy’s affection.

And he refused to acknowledge the niggling reminder that Susanna had much more to lose in partnering with him than he had to lose in marrying her. She wasn’t as wealthy
as Hannah, but she was still an advantageous match for a man of his status.

Cranch pushed the letters into his hand. “Take them. Please.”

Ben nodded and tucked them into his waistcoat before Elbridge could see them. He could at least take the letters as far as Mrs. Quincy at Mount Wollaston.

And why was it wrong for him to consider Susanna’s social position and wealth when he truly did care for her more than any other woman he’d ever met?

But even as he tried to justify his aspirations, Parson Wibird’s admonition rumbled through his jumble of thoughts. The parson had warned him that marrying for ambition would only be the first of many compromises he’d make for the sake of improving his reputation.

Ben tried to tell himself he would have made the decision to court Susanna even if she’d been the daughter of a poor tenant farmer. But deep inside, he couldn’t keep from wondering if he really would have.

“Well, if it isn’t the jilted lover himself,” Elbridge called as he neared their table, grinning like an overgrown squash.

Ben had no doubt Elbridge was referring to the news that Hannah had accepted the proposal of the Hingham doctor, Bela Lincoln.

“What are you doing here, Elbridge?” Cranch asked.

Ben forced himself to speak. “I’m surprised you made it inside the tavern. I thought you’d turn tail and run at the sight of the dragon hanging over the door.”

“Are you saying I’m not welcome in the Green Dragon?” Elbridge asked, lifting his proud nose.

Ben glanced around the dimly lit tavern, over the powdered wigs of patrons like John Warren and James Otis in
heated debate regarding the rumors of a new sugar tax that would be imposed to help pay for the recent war against France.

British officials, military officers, and those who were staunchly loyal to the king tended to congregate at the Crown Coffee House.

Elbridge was as out of place at the Green Dragon as a woman would have been.

Ben cocked his head toward the door. “You’ll be eaten alive if you stay here overlong.”

“For once, you may be right.” Elbridge glared at Otis in disdain. “Nothing good can come of this den of rebellious rogues.”

“Then exactly what are you doing here?” Ben asked. “Are you spying on the
rogues
?”

Elbridge’s eyes flickered.

“Get out, Elbridge.” Unease sifted through Ben’s gut. Maybe he’d underestimated Elbridge’s stupidity. Maybe the man was smarter than he looked.

“You’re so charming,” Elbridge said. “I’m guessing that winning charm of yours has made you popular with the ladies lately.”

“They can’t seem to keep their hands off me, can they?” Bitterness crept into Ben’s tone.

“Apparently, Susanna isn’t in the least interested in dirtying her hands on you.”

So the news about his failed attempt to win Susanna was finally beginning to spread. He’d figured it would be only a matter of time.

Of course he’d already told Cranch everything. And Cranch had assured him Susanna adored him and that she’d eventually come to her senses.

Ben doubted she would. Her mother’s hold upon her was too strong.

Even if Susanna did come to her senses and declare her love for him, he wasn’t sure he could forgive her this time. Although she hadn’t been the one to call him a “poor nobody” again, she hadn’t denied it or defended him. How could he love a woman who didn’t accept him for who he was?

Cranch glared at Elbridge, and his fingers twitched at the handle of his tankard as though contemplating the idea of tossing the contents into Elbridge’s face. “Susanna will be grasping after Ben soon enough. It takes some people a little longer to recognize a jewel when they have one within their hold.”

Ben gave Cranch a grateful nod.

A slow grin spread over his friend’s countenance. “Then again, some jewels need a little polishing to reveal their true worth, even one as crusty as you, my old friend. Maybe if you’d given her a little more time to see past all your stuffiness . . .”

Had he rushed things with Susanna? Maybe she hadn’t been ready for him to declare his intentions. Maybe he should have given her a little more time to return his affection before he’d attempted to court her.

Elbridge peered down his nose at Ben. “You might as well look in the gutters, Ross. That’s the only place you’ll find a woman who would want you.”

Ben’s muscles tightened. “Yes, I suppose you would know since you frequent the gutters so often.”

“As it turns out, I’ll be frequenting the Smith home more often in the coming weeks.”

“Then that will be quite a change from the filthy dregs to which you’re accustomed.”

“Mrs. Smith invited me to call upon Susanna at the end of this week.”

Elbridge was exactly the type of man Mrs. Smith wanted for Susanna. He should have known Mrs. Smith would encourage the union.

Even so, it didn’t seem fair that a man of such poor character as Elbridge could be given free license to court Susanna simply because of the size of his fortune. Weren’t there things that mattered more than wealth?

But even as the thought clamored through him, his own guilt shouted at him again.

The beginning of a grin worked at Elbridge’s mouth.

Ben shrugged, trying to throw off Elbridge’s insinuations. “Mrs. Smith is obviously deluded if she thinks Susanna is going to be interested in you.”

“I’ve a feeling Susanna will welcome me with open arms,” Elbridge said. “I mean, after all the trouble you’ve caused the Smiths.”

“Trouble?”

“Don’t play innocent, Ross.” Elbridge narrowed his eyes. “While I don’t agree with what Lieutenant Wolfe did to the Smith parsonage, I’m certain you played a role in provoking him.”

“That’s a strong accusation.”

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

The truth was, Ben
did
blame himself for the destruction at the parsonage. If only he’d been able to find a way to help Dotty sooner. If only he’d been able to discover a way to make the lieutenant pay for his crimes. Then the Smith family wouldn’t have had to be the recipients of the lieutenant’s unbridled anger.

But he hadn’t had any success even with Dotty, who was
still patiently hiding at Mount Wollaston. He couldn’t determine a way to prosecute Wolfe for the murders, not when he didn’t have a solid case or any substantive evidence.

His best course of action was to avoid Lieutenant Wolfe and instead pursue prosecution of Dotty’s master, Mr. Lovelace. If only he could get several of Mr. Lovelace’s servants to testify to the man’s abusive nature.

But every time Ben had made one of his covert visits to the Lovelace mansion and attempted to converse with the servants, none of them had been willing to speak out publicly against their master. Ben suspected several other female servants had also suffered abuse, but they were too afraid and ashamed to admit it. They’d apparently decided to suffer silently, at least until the terms of their indenture ended.

Something ignited in Elbridge’s eyes. “I know you’re hiding something, Ross. And I’ll find out what. Eventually.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to find anything even if it dropped into your lap and did a jig.”

Cranch guffawed.

“Now get out of here, Elbridge.” Ben didn’t trust Elbridge and hoped he hadn’t sorely underestimated him.

Ben nodded at the door, but froze at the sight of Parson Wibird ducking into the Green Dragon. The parson squinted through the smoky haze, and there was an urgent, almost frightened wildness to his expression.

“What’s Parson Wibird doing in Boston?” Cranch asked. “I didn’t think he liked traveling.”

“He doesn’t.” Ben pushed away from the table and stood.

The parson’s darting eyes landed upon him, and he started weaving his way through the crowded room toward Ben.

“Something must be wrong for the parson to seek you out in Boston,” Cranch said, voicing Ben’s deepest fear.

Parson Wibird was breathing heavily when he arrived at the table. He squinted first at Elbridge, then Cranch, and finally Ben.

“What brings you into town?” Ben asked, attempting to stay calm.

The parson’s squinty eyes filled with sudden tears.

Ben’s muscles tightened. Had there been another murder? Had Parson Wibird come to recall him to Braintree in order to deal with the matter? What of Joe Sewall?

Cranch rose from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. “What is it, Parson?”

Parson Wibird shook his head.

Maybe something had happened to Susanna.

The question stuck in Ben’s throat. As hurt as he was over her rejection, he couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to her.

Parson Wibird wiped the back of his gloved hand across his face. He looked Ben in the eyes, and the sadness issuing from the parson’s expression stopped Ben’s heartbeat completely.

“Your father’s dead. From influenza.”