The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale (21 page)

Sam gazed at her. If her husband didn’t enjoy her barbs and wit, the man was a damned fool. It was a shame. To pass an evening with a beautiful woman as she performed simple domestic tasks and boldly challenged his views would be the height of marital bliss. That, and waking up wrapped around her nude body, her honey-brown locks draped loosely against the pillows of their bed, breathing in the fragrance of her arousal as his needy cock nudged between her thighs…

Pat cleared his throat, bringing Sam back to the present. He adjusted the fullness in his crotch as discreetly as possible.

But Lady Strathmore had stood up and was coming toward him, her mending in her hand. Sam panicked momentarily and looked over at Pat, who shrugged his shoulders.

She unfurled the dark brown jacket she had been fixing and held it out for Sam to take. “Here you go, captain. Is the repair to your satisfaction?”

Nonplussed, Sam took the jacket from her. “What? Oh, right, the tear. Why, yes. In fact, I almost quite forgot I had torn it.” He ran his fingers along the scarlet facing, then held the jacket out for Pat to see. “You really can’t tell, now, can you?”

She took the newly mended coat from him and placed it on the bed, then began to unbutton the dingy green woolen jacket he was wearing, her fingers calmly working as his head whirled in astonishment at her touch. “I think the morale of your troops will be uplifted when they see their captain in his dress uniform.” She tugged the green jacket off him. “That is what this is, right?” she asked as she guided his arms into the sleeves of the brown jacket.

“Yes, yes.” Sam was less concerned about the morale of his soldiers at the moment and more about the now-visible sign of desire in his breeches.

“It’s a little worn,” she sighed, fussing over him. “The women tell me that you are lucky to have a uniform at all, much less a dress uniform.” She stood back. “You look quite handsome, captain.”

Sam flushed and hoped to heaven she would not glance lower than his waist.

“If it weren’t for this damnable civil war I would like to see you dressed in some frippery.” She tilted her head. “You’ve a fine figure.” She waved her hands about his person as if draping him in fine materials. “Yes. Mustard-brown velveteen with golden silk lining. Some lace perhaps.”

He could put up with mustard and gold, not so much the lace.

“And a wig, of course.”

He hated wearing a wig. The very thought dissipated his ardor, until he met the twinkle in her eyes and saw she was teasing.

“Civil war, my lady?” baited Pat. “Are we then rebellious Caesar to your Pompey? I rather thought we were being treated more like the Gauls.”

“Yes, but the Gauls were utter barbarians, were they not, lieutenant?” she shot back. “You lot may be savages, but at least you know your Latin.”

Sam laughed. She was perfect.

“Forgive me, my lady, I forget myself sometimes,” Pat said snidely. “What with the quashing of my freedoms and such.” He blew out a steady stream of gray smoke as his lips twitched into a wry smile.

She took up the gauntlet. “Well, I suppose your General Washington must consider himself as Vercingetorix, then, uniting the thirteen disparate colonies against us.”

“No, my lady,” countered Sam. “That would be our Congress, our people’s own representatives, who united us. General Washington takes orders from Congress.” He raised an eyebrow at Pat. “Nor should we think of our great commander as a tyrannical Caesar.”

Lady Strathmore removed Sam’s newly mended officer’s jacket, considering it as she hung it on a peg. “I’ve been wondering, how is it that someone as young as yourself leads this group of men, Captain Taylor?”

“I distinguished myself in service under General Washington—”

“And he’s highly educated. Classics at Harvard. He won’t tell you that part,” grinned Pat.

“Harvard! That’s impressive,” Lady Strathmore said as if she truly meant it. She picked up a shirt and resumed her mending.

“A veritable hotbed of sedition,” Pat sneered. His lips formed an O as he blew smoke rings.

“And Patrick won’t tell you he is just as educated,” Sam smirked. “William and Mary. He’s an honorary member of that treasonous secret society Phi Beta Kappa—”

“It’s a debating club, Sam,” Pat said with annoyance.

“Debate in the king’s colonies, my friend, is treason,” Sam retorted.

Pat chuckled. “And you, Lady Strathmore, how is it you are so well-read?”

“I was allowed to be tutored with my brother,” she said. “Except for Greek. I had to learn how to sing and play instruments so I would be more attractive to suitors.”

“I’d rather you had learned Greek,” Sam muttered as he buttoned up his old jacket.

“Well, I am hardly worthy of being amidst such scholars,” she said, this time with a cutting edge. “I really should be back downstairs with the women.”

“So you can escape again?” countered Sam. “Clearly, it’s far too easy to break out of the dormitory at night.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she said, suppressing a grin.

Pat laughed heartily. “No, he does not! My lady, you are quite correct in that regard. Our abstemious captain does not avail himself of the pleasures of the women’s dormitory.” He winked at Sam.

“Presumably you do, lieutenant?” Lady Strathmore raised a brow in his direction.

“It is not beneath me.” Pat continued blowing smoke rings.

“Really? Who?” She bit her lip and leaned forward.

“He won’t tell you, my lady. Patrick has an honorable streak.”

“Well, then,” she said as she threaded a needle, “I will just have to keep my eye on you at the dance tomorrow night, lieutenant, and see which of the colonial beauties captures your attention.”

What?
Sam stared at her. “Dance? There’s to be a dance tomorrow night?”

“The womenfolk have arranged a small affair, yes,” she said smoothly.

“Need I remind you, Lady Strathmore, we are in the middle of a war?”

“We’ve already discussed that, captain. Did we finally decide it was a colonial war?” She cocked her head demurely.

“I do not find this amusing.” Sam gripped the edge of his desk. “We don’t have time for such nonsense.”

She rested her sewing in her lap, and looked him directly in the eye. “Captain Taylor, with all due respect, sir, after seeing the wounded soldiers the other night, your men are restless. They are tired of drills and scouting, of counting and distributing supplies. The chatter amongst them is that they are impatient for a chance to fight for what they believe in. The women thought it would be a good idea for the men of the fort to relax with the wounded soldiers, get them talking, remind your company that what they are doing is valued and needed. The women feel this might prevent some desertions, so it’s in the best interest of everyone. You wouldn’t want good men deserting you, even if it is to fight the war, and the women don’t want their menfolk to leave.” She lowered her gaze to her sewing.

Sam slumped in his chair. Lady Strathmore was right, of course. He had noticed a greater level of frustration at the fort. Discipline in the ranks was getting more difficult to maintain. Maybe a little dancing and merriment wouldn’t be so bad. He might even make a speech commending his men for their good service.

She looked up at him once again. “And it would be well-received, I’m sure, if you said a few words of praise to your men, captain.”

A chill crept up his spine. She had read his thoughts. Like a wife might do. “Yes, yes. Thank you. That is an excellent idea.”

A twinge of regret chased after the chill. General Strathmore most definitely did not deserve this woman. And Sam was sending her right back into his clutches.

* * * * *

Sam’s chest swelled with pride as he watched the fort’s residents gather in the yard for their first ever social event. Lady Strathmore had been correct in her assessment of the positive effect it would have. He gave a brief speech, then, under the viscountess’s direction, the women made introductions among the wounded soldiers and the garrison men, and all the men began to talk, to exchange stories, to explain duties. The logistics of war and each man’s place became clear to all involved. And once the women felt some amount of success had been achieved, they gathered the musicians together and encouraged them to play. The first dances were spontaneous reels, somewhat disorganized, but enjoyable to watch.

From the fringes of the assembly, Sam exhaled a sigh. He would have to deal with a few transfer requests to join the fighting army and even deserters to the militias, but that was to be expected when eager young men came in contact with battle veterans. He glanced around the crowd. The women looked especially fine that night, with scrubbed faces and combed hair. One woman in particular caught his eye.

Pat sidled up alongside. “She’s enchanting in her aristocratic finery, don’t you think, captain?” he said in a hushed voice.

Lady Strathmore seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself with her new friends and watching the couples swing and skip. She was dressed in the blue-gray silk gown she had been wearing the day they found her. It was tailored to fit her perfectly, accentuating the swell of her breasts, the neckline revealing just a touch of cleavage. The outer skirt was covered with embroidered vines in a green to match her eyes. Simply enthralling.

“Don’t be cruel, Pat,” Sam murmured. “You know I can only admire from afar.”

“Ah. Of course. Unless you dance with her.”

Sam flashed him a perturbed look. “I leave that task up to you, lieutenant.”

“As you wish.” Pat smiled and was off to join the fray.

Pat took his position as dancing master over the confusion of twirling bodies, organizing couples, calling out steps, and enticing wallflowers. It was a task Patrick enjoyed immensely, and Sam could not help laughing out loud at the sight.

“I think your men would enjoy seeing you lead the dance, Captain Taylor.”

Sam hadn’t noticed Lady Strathmore’s presence at his side, then had to wrestle against a pang of bashfulness as he considered his response. He was acutely aware that they were at a social event, an event where men and women conversed and danced, flirted and courted. “I don’t dance, Lady Strathmore,” he said, turning back to face the assembly.

“No? Not at all?” She seemed genuinely disappointed. “Even your General Washington dances, captain. Or so I hear.”

He flushed. “It’s just that I haven’t done so in many years.” Her closeness was distracting, but he did his best to keep his focus on the merriment in the fort’s yard. “And yourself? I noticed you have not yet joined in.”

“It’s a bit different from what I’m used to, I’m afraid. However, I think I have figured out that this is quite like what we do back home called ‘Sir Roger de Coverley’.” She stepped a little in front of him as if to get his attention. “I was hoping that you would join me as top couple.”

Sam grinned. “Is this the latest English custom? Women ask men to dance?”

She blushed delightfully. “The women resolved to encourage all able-bodied men to participate in the evening’s activities.” Her voice was firm, but not without a tremor of shyness. “We decided that as I am a married woman and, as you always remind me, merely a passing guest, it would not be improper for me to ask you.” She looked him in the eye. “It was either me or Mrs. Scott, captain. I’m not asking you to perform a gavotte, sir. I’m just requesting you join your men in a little fun.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to blush. She was right. Her marital status along with her social rank made her the proper partner demanded by etiquette. He offered his arm. “As you wish. I will do my duty, my lady. One dance.”

And when she wrapped her arm around his, his thoughts turned perfectly improper.

* * * * *

Clara could barely suppress a squeal of glee at her triumph as the captain led her to the now organized sets of dancers. It had been over a year since she had danced, and never in such an uncivilized way. The boisterous familiarity of the Americans was so refreshingly unlike balls back home. She grasped ungloved hands, was turned about most indecorously, and yet had never had so much fun in her life. The captain danced two sets with her, his elegant turns in utter contrast with the almost savage swings performed by the fort’s soldiers. They led the first dance and let Lieutenant Hamilton and his pretty blond partner lead the second. The lieutenant was a terrible flirt with the garrison’s women folk, but the captain kept a polite distance. After he felt he had done his duty, he gracefully stepped back to the fringes of the party. Clara followed him a moment later.

He angled toward her. “I do thank you for coaxing me, madam.”

“A bit of fun is great for morale.” She smiled up at him. “I do think seeing you enjoy yourself humanizes you amongst your troops. It helps create loyalty.”

He merely nodded as he rocked on his heels, his hands behind his back, grinning at the scene before them.

A social affair was a good time to bring up thoughts that weighed heavily on her mind. “Captain, the nurse Jenny says you have family back in England, in a village called Cirencester. Is this true?”

“Why, yes,” he said in astonishment. “My grandmother and grandfather live there.”

“Have you ever been?” Clara tried to hide her excitement. The captain having a connection with the place might afford her the opportunity to travel back home.

He chuckled. “No, my lady. I am American, born and bred. I have not been outside my homeland.” He regarded her curiously. “How is it that you know of this place? I understand it is rather small.”

“Yes, yes it is, quite. My family home is just outside the village, in the countryside.”

“Strathmore?” He stood in thought for a moment. “I don’t recall my grandmother ever mentioning the name, and as she is from a lesser aristocratic family, she’s rather obsessed with the doings of the nobility.”

Clara cleared her throat. “No, not Strathmore. My husband’s family is from elsewhere in Gloucestershire. My family. Hastings.”

His forehead crinkled in astonishment. “Hastings?
You
are Lady Clara Hastings?”

She smiled as expectation spiked her heart. “Well, I was, before I married. But most likely you have heard of my great aunt, my grandfather’s sister. She never married so she shares my name.” Clara turned a little away from the activity in the yard, hoping to draw the captain’s attention with her. “If you have never been out of the colonies, how do you know of my great aunt?”