Touch the Sun (49 page)

* * *

On the eve of the inauguration, Fraunces Tavern was crowded with the best sort of men. Twilight veiled the city with pink and gray, and candles were being lit around the long room.

Lion sat at a round, polished table with four men who traded stories of their escapades during the last few days and talked over their plans for the morrow. General Washington would become president at two o'clock, and a second tide of visitors had begun today, swelling New York nearly to the point of bursting.

Sipping brandy, Lion wished that he could absorb some of the high spirits that charged the air. He wished that the inauguration were over and he were home. And then what? Gradually, he was forcing himself to think and attempt to feel again, for the intensity of his despair had begun to pull him down further and further. It had become a life battle, and now he was feeling the first stirring of the challenge. The past could not be altered—but his response to it could be.

He still held out hope for overtaking Clarissa. Since giving up the search the night before, he had not slept or eaten. There was too much thinking to be done, and now he was finally beginning to feel as though it was straight in his mind. He felt hope for the future, and something new—patience. It would take time... Part of him wondered if the constant ache for Meagan could ever ease.

Chairs scraped; two of the men got up to leave and someone else sat down.

"Well, well, what do you know. Lion Hampshire!"

Lion looked up and his eyes widened in genuine surprise. It was James Wade.

"This must be a case of
deja vu,"
Lion murmured, raising a brow ironically as he recalled the night they had met at Indian Head Tavern in Philadelphia and made the arrangement for him to marry Priscilla. "Or is it simply that you and I spend all our time in taprooms?"

James settled his corpulent body more snugly in the bow-back chair and grinned. "I am surprised to see you! Would have thought you'd be afraid to show your face after losing my sister to another man!"

"I'm pleased that she found someone more compatible. I realize now that the whole plan—our marriage—was ridiculous."

James narrowed his green eyes, trying to focus on Lion. The man seemed as cool as ever, with that cynical, handsome face, and clothes that looked fresh no matter how sweaty the tavern air became.

"You're singing a different tune these days! What happened to your marriage of convenience?"

Lion almost didn't answer. He swirled the brandy around in his glass and for a moment he could almost see Meagan's face in it. "I met someone who made me aware of what I had missed in my relationships with women."

"Must be quite a girl! Or is she just adept in bed?" James asked cunningly between gulps of ale.

Lion stared at him, his body hard and taut. "That is a slanderous lie. The girl was Meagan—"

"Meagan!" Wade spluttered, coming partway out of his chair. "Meagan! So that's where the chit got off to!"

"What are you babbling about? You sent her with us!"

"I?
I couldn't have sent Meagan to the
garden
without having her put her tongue out at me. What makes you think that I had anything to do with it?"

Lion's golden brows met as he frowned. "Why shouldn't I think it? She was in your employ—"

In his surprise, James choked, showering ale all over Lion's white shirt. "In my employ? Oh, that's rich! Hoo! Just what did the wench tell you?"

Lion was almost reluctant to continue. "Well... they said she was Priscilla's maid. Actually, that's about it."

"Maid? Maid? Har—har—har!" It seemed he might strangle in his fit of laughter.

Lion's face grew darker.

"Meagan a maid? Oh, that's rich! Really rich! Har—har! Wait till they hear this at home! So that's what the little vixen did to get away!"

"Will you kindly tell me what the devil you are talking about?"

"Your little Meagan the maid is actually the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Virginia—at first glance he was, at any rate. Russell Sayers owned the plantation Pecan Grove, not far from West Hills, and Priscilla and Meagan have been friends—of a sort—since they were babies. Har—har! Wish you could see your face!" James wiped his oily, perspiring forehead with a scented handkerchief. "Her parents were killed in a shipwreck last autumn. You know how we Southern men overextend. General Washington had to borrow five hundred pounds to pay off his creditors before he left Virginia and a hundred more for traveling expenses to get here!"

"Will you get on with it?" Lion ground out.

"Don't get hot and bothered. Let's see now... as I recall, when Meagan disappeared, I didn't know what the situation was, but soon afterward, this man Bumpstock showed up. Her father's solicitor. That's when we all learned that Pecan Grove was going to be sold off to pay the debts and Meagan had been scheduled to be shipped off to some spinster aunt of hers in Boston. Didn't surprise me a bit, then, that she'd flown the cage. Just her style."

Lion sat there looking like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on his head. Dazedly, he demanded, "Is this your idea of a joke, Wade?"

"Joke! You're a fine one to suspect jokes at this late date! A maid! I'd love to have seen that!"

Lion flushed under his tan.

"By the way," James continued conversationally, "after the inauguration, I'll be looking Meagan up. She's got to go home and sign a lot of papers before Pecan Grove can change hands. Bumpstock, not to mention every one of Russell Sayers's creditors, have been looking all over for the minx. When General Washington told me how she'd—"

"Listen, Wade, haven't you heard that Meagan is dead?" Lion demanded hoarsely.

"Hoo! Hampshire, for a man in love, you are certainly misinformed all around! I saw General Washington at luncheon yesterday and he told me he brought Meagan with him to New York last week! Something about finding her running about on the road outside Philadelphia! When I filled him in on the situation at Pecan Grove, he told me Meagan has been installed with the Jays for the time being."

Lion's heart was thundering in his ears. He clenched his hands to keep them from shaking, and when he closed his eyes, red and orange sparks danced behind his eyelids.

"What did you say her true surname is?" he asked hoarsely.

"Sayers." James gave him a benign smile, showing wine-stained teeth.

Lion's mind spun back to his introduction to Sally Jay the night before. "Miss Sayers" she had called the bashful house guest.

"I've got to go—get some air..."

He stood up and threaded his way out of the taproom, only to nearly collide with John Jay as he emerged on Pearl Street. Jay had just stepped out of his carriage and started toward the door of Fraunces Tavern, but at the sight of Lion he stopped in pleased recognition.

The irony of all this is stretching credibility to new limits! thought Lion.

"Well, Mr. Jay," he said aloud, "what a coincidence! I was just talking about you!"

"Nothing too libelous, I trust?"

Suddenly Lion realized that he felt alive and vital for the first time since the night he walked home from City Tavern in Philadelphia.

John Jay was studying him, noticing the change in his eyes, gestures, smile, the tone of his voice.

"As a matter of fact, the subject was actually your house guest... Miss Sayers, wasn't it?"

"That's right. Who—"

"James Wade, a neighbor of hers in Virginia. I understand she is quite a girl."

"Lovely, yes, though sadly lacking these days in the spirit she is known for. I gather she has been through a great deal."

"No doubt," Lion agreed in a voice leaden with sarcasm.

"Would you be interested in meeting her after all?"

"I can't imagine that Mrs. Jay would still allow that—after my conduct last night. Breaking my word—"

Jay smiled wryly. "Sally thinks you a dashing libertine, and your conduct only served to enhance that romantic image in her mind. As a matter of fact, she was urging me only an hour ago to ask you to join her and Miss Sayers tomorrow. I will be part of the President's entourage, but the ladies will go to Federal Hall in our carriage."

"Perhaps I could meet them there."

"Splendid! Sally will be thrilled at the prospect. However, I think it best not to tell Miss Sayers that your meeting has been prearranged. Sally has been moving heaven and earth to persuade her to attend the ceremonies at all, and the idea of being thrown together with a man might scare her off again."

Nodding somberly, Lion stifled an impulse to laugh. "A wise decision. May I ask if that was the reason she backed away from the party last night?"

"Oh, no. I'm certain your name never came up, for I neglected to mention it to Sally until she saw you at General Knox's. As I recall, Sally felt Meagan grow skittish at the prospect of meeting some girlhood friend of hers who has recently married."

Lion bit his lip, eyes snapping merrily. "I see. Poor girl. Well, I shall do my best to break through her apathy..."

Chapter 42

Meagan was awake before dawn. Her self-imposed confinement was beginning to chafe and she longed to get outside, if only to breathe the sweet, dewy air and see the sights of New York.

Standing at her window, clad in an exquisitely embroidered lawn bedgown, she stared out over the dark, still city. Where is Lion now? she wondered. Is he sleeping with Priscilla? Does she lie in the circle of his arm, with her head on his chest... as I used to do?

The constant flow of pain was turning sour. Jealousy made her angry, more at herself than anyone else, and she was weary of the sadness that lay on her heart like a great weight. All the emotions she had been experiencing the past few days were part of a natural process, but foreign to her nonetheless.

I think the time has come to tell the rest of the world to go to hell! she thought rebelliously. At least the people who knew me as Meagan South. So what if I meet the Binghams—or even Lion and Priscilla? After all, I can't keep skulking around like a scared kitten.

Outside, a molten orange sun began to edge its way up over the bay and Meagan saw the first in a long line of slaves on their way to the river, each with a tub of sewage on his head. A cart driven by a tea-water man clattered around the corner next, and drowsy-looking serving-girls came out of houses to purchase a hogshead of the excellent spring water.

It looked like the weather would cooperate; only a few clouds drifted across the glowing sky. She started as the cannon shots began from the Battery. There were thirteen of them, reminding anyone who might have forgotten that today George Washington would become the first President of the United States.

Meagan was excited and ready for this newest adventure. Who could tell what might happen?

* * *

Lion shrugged into his newest coat, of a shade known as "London smoke." It fit to perfection, skillfully cut to accommodate his shoulders and skim his lean, narrow hips. He also wore a crisp muslin shirt and cravat, a dull gray satin waistcoat, oyster-white breeches, and black knee-boots. What truly pleased him, though, was the sparkle in his eyes. Ultramarine, Meagan had called them once. Beyond the sea.

The sea with a hurricane on the horizon! Lion thought now. He grinned at his reflection, gratified to see that he was still the man she had loved.

The pottery lion stood on the worn tea-table in this room on City Tavern's second floor. He reached out to touch the statue, remembering Meagan's face when she presented it to him.

Part of himself was furious with her for the deceit she had practiced on him—though he thought he understood what had prompted it. He was looking forward to their confrontation today with diabolical glee. One eyebrow went up as he stared at his mirror image, recalling things she had said: "I am only a waif who knows no life but service to my betters" ...followed by an endless stream of evasions. So much that had perplexed him in the past was clear now, but a new set of questions simmered in his mind.

Clenching his teeth, Lion thought of what both of them had suffered because of her pride. It had nearly cost Meagan her life.

"Ah, sweetheart," he whispered, "today I shall have my turn. Prepare to be stalked!"

The sudden pounding at the door startled him. Lion opened it to find James Wade standing there, and for a moment he failed to remember the note he had sent the night before.

"Well?" demanded Wade, whose breath already smelled of wine.

"James, come in! Your revelations yesterday have made me see you in a new light. I have a favor to ask of you." Lion was at his ironically courteous best.

"A favor? Today? Why should I—"

"I don't mean to take advantage of your friendship, of course. I thought that, in return, I might pay whatever debts you have yet outstanding—and then some."

Wade's expression changed immediately from surly to elated. As Lion well knew, the man would sell his sister for money.

"Well then! What did you have in mind? By the way, you wouldn't have something to drink—?"

Lion poured a generous glass of brandy which James took eagerly in his pudgy hand.