Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (62 page)

She said a prayer for him and asked for his, before pausing for a moment at the foot of Melissa's grave. She hoped her two dear cousins were together, and then turned away, heartbroken to be all alone.

* * *

Striving to impress his taciturn guest, the following afternoon Randolph had Stan hitch the team to the carriage and drive him out to the Barclay plantation. Relieved to find no other callers there, he rapped on the front door and asked to see John. He was shown into the parlor, and in a moment John Barclay joined him.

"You're not welcome here," John announced gruffly, "and even if you've come to offer your sympathy, I'll thank you to leave."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but this isn't a condolence call, although I am sincerely sorry about Elliott's death," Randolph informed him. "I've come to fetch Alanna's belongings. She needs her clothing and personal items. I thought perhaps you'd prefer to have one of your maids pack her things. If not, I'll see to the chore myself."

"Oh you will, will you?" Not impressed by the silversmith's courtly manners, John approached him with a menacing swagger. "I fail to understand why my niece's wardrobe is any concern of yours. Isn't one husband enough for her?"

John was nearly ten years Randolph's senior, but he was taller, stronger, and in robust good health. He lived a vigorous outdoor life on his plantation, while Randolph's work required him to spend long hours indoors either working with precious metals, or managing his shop. He was trim rather than muscular, and any fight between them would be disastrously one-sided, but Randolph refused to back down.

"Your niece is a fine lady, and I'm happy to help her in any way I can." He reached into his coat pocket to extract the letter she had sent with him, and held it out. "I've a message for you from Alanna, and if you'll just have someone show me to her room, I'll pack up her things."

John snatched the envelope from Randolph's hand, tore it into half a dozen pieces, and threw it back in his face. "The only place I'll show you, sir, is
out!"

He reached for Randolph, and while Randolph attempted to fend him off, John grabbed the back of his collar and, with a fierce yank, propelled him toward the front door. He flung it open and sent the silversmith tumbling head over heels down the steps.

"If you still want Alanna's things, wait here," he shouted.

Stanley jumped down from the carriage to come to his master's aid. A small man in his fifties, he was no match for John Barclay either, but he couldn't allow Randolph to lie unattended in the dust. "Come on, sir," he encouraged. "Let's be on our way."

The wind knocked out of him and his wig askew, Randolph needed Stanley's help to rise, but before he had reached the safety of his carriage, John began to hurl Alanna's clothing out her bedroom window. It rained down on the lawn in colorful heaps, and as soon as Randolph had caught his breath, he and Stanley scurried around gathering it up. John laughed at them and aimed Alanna's slippers to strike painful blows, but neither man was discouraged by his rudeness.

When the last bit of Alanna's apparel had been stowed away in the carriage, Randolph caught a glimpse of Rachel watching from the parlor window. He had believed her to be his friend, but she was observing him now with the same icy detachment she'd show a spider spinning his web, and he knew he had lost one of his best customers. He nodded toward her anyway, but she turned her back on him.

Randolph flopped his battered wig on the seat beside him and spent his time on the ride home attempting to fold Alanna's garments neatly, so she wouldn't know how carelessly they had been treated. Her lingerie held a delightful hint of lavender sachet, and he held each piece up to his face to savor it. He had kept his late wife's clothing for a long time, because he had been unwilling to part with it while it still held her scent. He had absolutely no right to fondle Alanna's garments in the same loving way, but he couldn't help himself.

Ashamed of the miserable way he had carried out his errand, Randolph was hoping Alanna would be away visiting Christian, but she was waiting for him when he arrived home. Bruised and sore, he hobbled out of his carriage and tried to smile, but he knew by Alanna's worried frown that he must be a pathetic sight.

"You'll have to forgive the way I look, but I did bring your belongings."

Alanna had never seen Randolph looking anything but his best, and certainly never without his wig. She wasn't surprised to find his hair was gray, but his thick, boyish curls were far more attractive than any neatly groomed and powdered wig. He did not resemble a staid businessman nearly as much as a young man, who'd stayed out all night with his pals. It was obvious to her he had lost a fight with someone, but that only made his disheveled appearance and sheepish smile all the more appealing.

"It doesn't look as though my uncle's response to my letter was the one for which I'd hoped."

Randolph shrugged slightly, and then winced when a sharp pain shot down his back. "He tore it up without reading it. I'm sorry."

"That doesn't matter. What did he do to you?"

When Randolph brushed aside her question with an embarrassed shake of his head, Stanley provided a vivid account of John Barclay's brutality. "Damn near killed him," he swore. "That man ain't no gentleman."

Alanna took Randolph's arm. "My clothes weren't worth this. You shouldn't have had to suffer this abuse."

Enjoying her attentions, Randolph slowed his pace. "If I have to go out there again, I'll be sure to take several men with me."

"You're not going out there again, Randolph. Don't even consider it."

"May I offer you the same advice?"

"You needn't bother. I'm not even tempted to pay the plantation a visit." Alanna helped him into the parlor, where a horrified Mrs. Newcombe took over. The little woman insisted what Randolph needed was to soak in a hot bath, and hurried off to arrange it. Leaving her host in his housekeeper's hands, Alanna returned to the carriage. It wasn't until she had carried all of her things upstairs and begun to sort them out that she found a great many suspicious blades of grass.

The reason for the disorganization of her apparel was then painfully obvious. She sat down on the side of her bed, unable to imagine what her aunt and uncle must be thinking to reject her so cruelly. They had accused her of being disloyal, which she most certainly wasn't. She hadn't revealed Melissa's secret, nor would she share any of Elliott's. She had given them the loyalty they deserved, but they had treated her like trash.

Randolph was pleased to find a long, hot bath did indeed ease his discomfort. He would have to stay home for the rest of the day; clad in his dressing gown, he stopped at Alanna's open door. "I hope nothing important was left behind," he called to her.

Alanna rose from the bed and carried a handful of the grass she'd brushed from her clothes over to him. "They just threw my things out the window, didn't they?"

Randolph would have denied it to save her feelings, but because she held the proof of what had happened, he told the truth. "Your uncle was most ungracious, but I didn't lose sight of the fact he'd just lost a son."

"He needn't behave as though he had lost a niece as well." When Randolph looked pained by her remark, she reached out to touch a curl at his temple. "You have such beautiful hair. Perhaps that isn't a proper thing to say to a man, but you do. Why don't you throw away your wigs?"

"I'll throw away everything I own, if it'll please you," Randolph blurted out without thinking.

"You've already done more than enough for me," Alanna assured him. "Now will you excuse me? I want to get everything put away."

"You'll join me for supper, won't you?"

"Yes, of course, I will." Alanna waited at the door until he had reached the stairs. Randolph was such a sweet man, but no matter how much she missed Hunter, she was not going to take refuge in his arms. It was definitely going to be a temptation, but one to which she would never yield.

Chapter 28

In less than two days' time, Robin Frederick's penchant for gossip had insured that all of Williamsburg's finest citizens had learned of Alanna Barclay's marriage to an Indian brave. Her tale was imaginatively embellished in the subsequent retellings, so that Hunter was variously described as an Iroquois chief by some, and as a bloodthirsty renegade by others. Alanna's unusual choice of marriage partner alone would have been enough to cause her to receive severe censure, but the fact that she was also living openly with Randolph O'Neil, sent many of her aunt's horrified contemporaries into a swoon. No one could recall a scandal of such delicious proportions, and it promised to keep everyone talking in hushed whispers all summer.

Randolph employed two clerks at his shop. Lena Fisher cataloged, sorted, and dusted the merchandise and kept the shop in perfect order, while Robert Platt was an apprentice silversmith who showed great promise. Randolph was fond of them both, and when their attitudes turned cool, he noticed it immediately. He was unable to recall an incident which might have upset them. It was true he had been absent from the shop on several occasions that week, but he had always thought the two liked the responsibility of handling customers on their own. Too considerate to allow what he felt had to be an unfortunate misunderstanding to continue, he asked the pair what was bothering them.

At first Lena shrugged and turned away, and Robert simply blushed, but after a few minutes' coaxing, Lena reluctantly admitted what was wrong. "I hope you'll forgive me if this seems too personal a matter for my comment, but the whole town is talking about the way you've taken up with an Indian's wife. What with you being in church every Sunday, you have to know it isn't right."

Dumbfounded, Randolph stared at Lena for a long moment. She was a mature woman, not some silly girl, and he found it difficult to believe she did not know him better. As for Robert, well, he was an inexperienced young man, and perhaps could be excused his embarrassment on that account.

"Mrs. Hunter's aunt and uncle have treated her abominably, and I have invited her to stay in my home while her husband is serving as a scout with General Braddock's forces. There is absolutely nothing improper about our relationship, and I am shocked, shocked, Mrs. Fisher, that you would repeat what can only be described as the cruelest of gossip. In the future, please refer anyone who might wish to make a comment on my guests to me."

At Alanna's suggestion, Randolph had ceased wearing a wig, and he plunked his hat atop his head and left the shop without telling his employees when, or if, he would return. He stormed down Duke of Gloucester Street, his hands clasped behind his back and an angry scowl on his face. People stepped out of his way, but he heard what they were saying behind his back.

That Alanna was staying with him was obviously common knowledge, but he could not understand why it was being viewed in such uncharitable terms. He had spent his entire life in Williamsburg, and was amazed to find people did not have a better opinion of him. He would have to write to his daughter that very day, so that she would hear the truth from him before one of her more ambitious friends sent word of her father's imagined indiscretion. Infuriated by the unfairness of the malicious gossip circulating about them, Randolph returned home in a wretched mood.

Seated at the window seat in the parlor, Alanna saw Randolph coming up the walk. He looked so upset, she laid her book aside and went to the door to greet him. "What's wrong, Randolph? Has my uncle been bothering you again?" she asked.

In the few days Alanna had been with him, Randolph had been enormously flattered by the depth of her concern. He wasn't used to being met at the door by a woman other than Mrs. Newcombe, and Alanna showed far more sensitivity to his moods than his housekeeper ever had. "No, I've not spoken with John since I picked up your clothes. There is a reason I'm home early though. Let's go into the parlor and discuss it."

Alanna understood what was the matter before Randolph had completed a halting preamble to the problem. "It's too late for me to find another place to live today, but I'll go out first thing in the morning, and look for new lodgings. Innkeepers don't have to worry about gossip the way private citizens do. In fact, a resident who's at the heart of a controversy is probably good for their business."

"No, you're not leaving here, and that's all there is to it. Neither of us is acting in a scandalous fashion, and I refuse to behave as though we were. Don't you see? If you move into an inn, people will assume we had something to be ashamed of, and we don't."