Sweet Deception Regency 07 - The Divided Hearts (25 page)

She realized that she was babbling and
watched as the expression in Nate’s eyes sharpened. He observed her
for a moment, then blinked, and his eyes contained the empty social
look that she despised. His tanned hand reached for the offensive
quizzing glass and she wrinkled her nose in distaste as his
magnified eye stared down at her.

“You appear slightly out of breath, m’dear,”
Nate drawled. “Did you walk all the way here?”

“No, Nathanael, I flew on the wings of a
large bird,” Judith said with asperity.

“An eagle, perhaps?”

“Nothing less than a falcon,” Judith
replied.

“How frightfully English.”

During the exchange of words, Nate’s drawl
lessened and his words took on a crisp accusing tone. He was angry
with himself that he could be so discomfited by the golden-eyed
beauty. The fact that he loved her should have no bearing on his
ability to control his emotions. He reminded himself that theirs
was a doomed relationship. Convinced of his invincibility, he
looked down at Judith and was immediately lost.

There was a hint of defiance in the
stiffness of her figure, but it did nothing to mitigate the attack
of her beauty on his senses. He had always thought she was lovely
but today there was a quality about her that heightened her appeal.
She shone with an inner radiance that sent a blast of heat through
his vitals. She was lit from within, glowing and incandescent. His
nostrils twitched at the heady perfume that floated up to him. His
eyes moved over her body as if to memorize every curve. He caught
his breath when he discovered the rose.

The tiny bud peeped from the folds of
Judith’s neckline, nestled in the valley of her breasts. The satiny
look of the petals accentuated the flawless skin of the girl. He
watched in fascination as the milky roundness of her bosom rose and
fell with her breathing. Nate ached to touch the flower. It was
almost painful for him not to dip his fingers into the creamy
softness and extract the rose.

Judith stared up at Nate, mesmerized by the
feelings rushing through her body. She could feel the caress of his
eyes and the tension, that had built up with his presence, flowed
from her body and she swayed. His hand steadied her and she was
burned by his touch. His eyes captured hers. Her lids drooped and
her nostrils flared as she became aware of the waves of sensuality
emanating from the man. She had dreamed that she might see his eyes
blaze with passion but the actuality of it was more powerful than
she had imagined.

“You have never looked more beautiful,
Judith,” Nate said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“I will always remember this moment.” Judith
kept her voice low, fighting back tears of weakness. Why couldn’t
you have said this before? she wanted to cry. Instead she said,
“Thank you for telling me, Nathanael.”

There was such a note of sad finality in her
voice that Nate immediately realized something had changed. It was
almost as if she were bidding him goodbye. Looking down into her
face, he saw decision written in her eyes.

“It seems milady has finally chosen sides,”
he acknowledged bitterly.

For answer, Judith nodded her head. “And
you?”

“Like your parents, we appear to be
separated by an ocean,” Nate said, evading a direct admission.
“Love can not survive a divided loyalty.”

Judith’s eyes filled with tears at the
poignancy of his words. It was strange to be facing each other and
to acknowledge a love that had never been put into words. She
wondered when he had discovered his feelings for her but realized
that it mattered little. She had been so hopeful when she arrived
at the party but her joy was dust in the wake of Nate’s words.
Anger, that she should be robbed of even one night of happiness,
flashed through her and she placed her hand on his jacket in
appeal.

“A truce?” she asked. “Just for
tonight?”

Nate stared at her blankly and Judith’s
heart sank in despair. He removed her hand from his sleeve, his
fingers stroking the skin of her palm. Turning it over, he raised
it to his lips.

“Permit me, m’dear, to be your escort for
the evening,” Nate said, accepting her terms.

Brian and Janice Glowen stood on the porch
surrounded by their eight children. Despite the fact Judith was
English, they welcomed her with warmth. Nate winced as Brian nudged
him in the ribs and hauled him away for a sampling of rum punch.
Judith joined the other women in the preparation of supper. She
smiled as the buxom Janice moved around the kitchen, her skirts
clutched in the fists of her two youngest boys. Eventually the
tables were spread and everyone was called to the meal.

As Patrick had predicted the food was
wonderful. There was beef, pork and fowl, oysters and crabs, meat
pasties and overflowing dishes of vegetables. Judith sat between
Nate and her father, contented to taste everything that was pressed
on her. Even before dessert, she groaned in defeat.

“I can’t eat another bite,” she announced
pushing away her plate.

“Just wait until you see the pies and the
cakes, Judith,” Patrick shouted from across the board.

“I hear the red raspberry pie is all gone,”
she said.

Judith grinned as the boy stuck his tongue
out at her. From the amount of dirt on his face and clothes, she
assumed that the Fourth of July celebrations had been a success.
Patrick was particularly pleased with himself, because, as he had
announced, he had won six pennies at Chuck-Farthing. Judith could
see that, confident in his eye for accuracy, he was already
planning a career of pitching pennies into a hole.

After dinner, the fiddlers tuned up and the
children were cleared from the platform where they had been playing
tag and blindman’s bluff. Dancing began, with the fiddler calling
out the figures in clear rich tones. Judith loved dancing and had a
natural rhythm. She recognized most of the dances and her partners
were delighted to help her learn the steps of the unfamiliar ones.
The American version of the
minuet
was an exhilarating
surprise. It was much livelier, closer to its peasant origins, than
the stately and elegant steps she performed in London. Nate
partnered her several times but after a particularly enthusiastic
country dance, she begged for a rest.

“Take pity on me, Nate,” she said, gasping
for breath.

“I think lemonade would be the answer.”

After seating her on a blanket beneath an
apple tree, he went in pursuit of liquid sustenance. Judith waved
her silk fan in front of her face. The early evening air was still
humid but as night edged closer it began to lose some of its heat.
She watched with fascination as some of the older couples gathered
for the slow peacocking movements of the
pavane
. The
dancers, reliving a favorite pastime of their younger days, moved
with great dignity that did not seem at all incongruous in the
informal setting. There was silence at the end of the dance, then a
burst of applause in which Judith joined.

“I trust you noted Simon’s performance,”
Nate said, handing her a glass of lemonade and throwing himself on
the blanket beside her.

“You forget, sir,” Judith chuckled, “that I
have seen Father playing the courtcard in London. For a man of his
size, he’s light on his feet. In the ballroom, he was fancied by
the highest sticklers.”

“I can just imagine the old fox. He has an
enormous capacity to enjoy life. He and Patrick make a good match.
There’s not much mischief that the boy can get into that Simon
hasn’t done years earlier. Just now, I found the two of them
together. Your father was down on his knees explaining to Patrick
and Roger the intricacies of a sky rocket.”

“Egads!” Judith exclaimed. “It’s a wonder
Father has survived to such an advanced age.”

The last traces of evening sun had left the
sky and the children ran through the yard, dragging branches for
the bonfires. She and Nate talked quietly, all too aware that the
evening was coming to a close.

“There will be thirteen bonfires. One for
each state,” Nate explained.

Judith nodded watching the activity. At the
deep chuckle beside her, she turned to him, her brow wrinkled in
question.

“I was reminded of the first Fourth of July
celebration in Philadelphia. I fear I must bore you with detail for
you to catch the humor. You may not know that Rhode Island was the
last state to ratify the Constitution. This did not sit well with
some of the more patriotic states.”

“I thought all the states were in
agreement,” Judith said.

“There was much dissension after the war
with England. At that time the states were just loosely organized
into a confederation. It wasn’t until after the Constitutional
Convention that we became a union. Rhode Island never even sent a
delegate to the convention. The ninth vote needed for union came
shortly before the fourth of July. In Philadelphia the bonfires
were lit. In the pile representing Rhode Island, they threw
brimstone and tar and other noisome matter. It made a fearsome
stink.”

Judith joined Nate in laughter just as the
first skyrocket burst over their heads. She shrieked and jerked
toward him. He placed a comforting arm around her and they craned
their necks to watch the fireworks. There were skyrockets and
flaming arrows and old-fashioned fire links, fireworks linked
together like sausages. Around them the boys cheered and the girls
shrieked and cried. At the end of the display, the crowd applauded
wildly, gathering around the bonfires.

Judith looked up into Nate’s eyes,
flickering in the reflection of the firelight. She was stunned at
the passion that bathed her senses. He raised his hand, cupping her
cheek. His thumb brushed lazy circles across her lips and his
fingers stroked down her throat to the hollow of her shoulder
blade. His eyes held hers in a mesmerizing gaze as his hand moved
lower to the draped valley of her neckline. Warm fingers slid
between her breasts, searing the skin and marking her forever. He
caressed the petals of the yellow rose, withdrawing it from its
nest and without dropping his eyes from hers, touched the flower to
his lips.

“A remembrance, my dear.” His voice was
ragged with restraint.

Eventually the wagons lined up for the
return to town and Nate handed her up beside Simon and a very
sleepy Patrick. Without a word, he kissed her hand, turning on his
heel to disappear into the night. Silent tears rolled unattended
down Judith’s face as the train of jubilant guests rode back to
Newport. She did not cry from sadness; she cried for joy at the
gift of one perfect evening. Now she and Nate could get on with
their lives with memories to hold them through the lonely years
ahead.

“Oh, la, sweet child, you’ve set many a
heart aflutter, tonight,” Priscilla Woodbridge gushed. With her
usual grasp of iron, she dragged Judith along the gravel path
toward the center of the garden.

“I’ve been having a splendid time,” Judith
replied. “The Sweeney’s house is charming.”

“There’s a great deal of money here,” the
irrepressible Priscilla said, looking around at the manicured plots
of flowers. She opened a delicate lacy fan and waved it to cool her
cheeks. “Linette Sweeney has become quite high in the instep since
she married George. Involved in charity work, much to the dismay of
the poor who have enough on their plates without that totty-headed
do-gooder doling out largesse. Linette chooses not to remember, but
her father-in-law was Timothy Marcus Sweeney. Most referred to him,
behind his back of course, as Black Sweeney. He was involved in the
trade.”

“The slave trade?” Judith asked bluntly,
annoyed at the popular euphemism.

Priscilla’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Don’t bristle so, my dear. There are few families without the
obligatory skeletons. One cannot spend a lifetime defending one’s
forebears. Besides it is usually the black sheep who is the most
interesting of all one’s ancestors.”

Judith had to laugh at the practical little
woman. Perhaps that was why she enjoyed Priscilla’s company. The
older woman loved to gossip but was never malicious. The endless
foibles and failings of people were a source of constant amusement
to the ebullient woman.

“I agree,” Judith said. “In my own family,
there are two uncles and at least one cousin who seemed to have
established their fortunes by rendering to the crown services of a
highly salacious nature. Mother refused to allow any mention of
their names which of course made me all the more determined to
discover their history.”

“And did you?” Priscilla asked. After
smoothing her skirts, she sat down on the edge of the marble
fishpond.

“In rummaging through some old trunks in the
attic, I chanced upon a diary. For a week I poured over the
scribbled writing. It was most informative.” Chuckling at the
remembrance, Judith settled beside the older woman.

“Never say, my dear,” Priscilla hooted.
“What a naughty minx you must have been.”

“I fear so. My governess discovered me
reading it by the light of a purloined candle. After perusing
several particularly choice sections, she went into spasms. It took
a week for her to recover.”

“Suppose she burned the diary.”

“I had always assumed so. But months later
she came down with a fever. While searching for a bed jacket, I
found the book stowed amid her nightgowns.”

The two women enjoyed a hearty laugh at the
hidden pleasures of the poor little governess. Their talk continued
as they sat on the edge of the pond, reveling in the cool breeze
that occasionally wafted through the garden. Judith was relieved to
be away from the stuffy ballroom that smelled of wax candles, heavy
perfumes and perspiration. She could not help but contrast this
night’s party with the one at the Glowen’s farm where the dancing
had been outside amid the clean scents of night. All too soon her
partner came to collect her for his promised dance.