Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (18 page)

"I picked up a bit here, a tidbit there, and added them all together. Every time I heard someone whisper about the Swallow's daring exploits, I would feel pride in you, just as I know all the Daymond women would have been proud of you."

Lavender dropped down in front of her aunt, still not sure what to make of her confession. "But you never said anything."

"How could I? If I had confronted you with the evidence, I would have had to do what was proper and insist that you stop what you were doing. As it was, I could turn my eyes away and pretend I knew nothing. Each time you were called to the hospital, I knew you would be going into danger. I could not rest easy until I knew you were safely back home again."

Lavender felt tears in her eyes and she reached out and covered her aunt's blue-veined hand. "I never knew you felt that way. I always thought I was a burden to you."

Amelia's hand trembled as she softly touched Lavender's golden hair. "My dear child, you have never been a burden to me . . . you have been my only joy in a cold and impersonal world."

"But I don't understand?"

"I am a hard woman, Lavender. I have never known how to show my feelings . . . perhaps that is why I never married. When you first came to me as a child, I was a bitter old woman who knew nothing about raising a young girl. You have taught me so many things about giving and . . . love. Every time I scolded you, it was like a pain in my own heart. You never complained about anything, but cheerfully did whatever I asked of you."

Lavender laughed and hugged the older woman, her heart basking in a warmth of feelings she had secretly craved since she had been a child. "You make me sound like an applicant for martyrdom, Aunt Amelia."

Her aunt's cheeks were wet with tears, but she managed to smile. "Oh, you are hardly that, but I am so very proud of you."

Lavender's eyes were shining bright. "You cannot know what that means to me."

Amelia's faded blue eyes took on a warm glow. "Now, that's enough talking nonsense. Stand up, and let me have another look at that gown."

Lavender quickly obeyed. Wrinkling her nose, she turned around in a circle. "That is positively the worst gown I have ever seen," Amelia stated bluntly. "I didn't even like it when it belonged to me."

"It is frightful, isn't it? But it will have to do."

"No. You still have two days until the party. I feel sure that if we put our heads together, we can come up with something much more suitable for you to wear. 1 have seen you with Mr. West, and I know you have strong feelings for him. If he is what you want, why don't you show him how lovely you really are?"

There was misery in Lavender's eyes. "I can't. It is impossible."

"Why ever would you say that? He must be interested in you, or he would not have asked you to accompany him to the gala. You are not some weak, silken miss that doesn't know how to fight for what she wants."

"You don't understand, Aunt Amelia. Julian West, or rather Julian Westfield, is an English duke. He has come to Williamsburg expressly to capture the Swallow. It's my guess that he is going to the party in hopes the Swallow will be there, and he is using me to get him through the front door. He knows what the Swallow looks like, so I am forced to continue with this disguise."

Amelia's eyes lit up. "A duke, you say? Well, that does not surprise me now that I think about it. He is an arrogant and proud devil." Her eyes sparked with amusement. "You must have caused the British no end of trouble if they sent one of their nobility to capture you."

"It isn't that I am important, Aunt Amelia. Julian Westfield's motive for hunting me is quite different."

"I see. Are you sure he does not know you are the Swallow?"

"Yes, I am sure."

Amelia walked around Lavender with a practiced eye. "It appears you will just have to go on playing the dowdy miss. Pity, you could have set Mr. West.. . field's head in a spin if he had seen you as you really are."

"He would send Lavender Daymond to an English prison if he saw me as I really am."

Amelia caught Lavender's chin and looked deeply into her eyes. "Just remember you are as good as any of the English nobility. If this man is what you want, then go after him."

"I can't."

"And why not?"

Lavender lowered her eyes. "It would seem his dead brother stands between us. The duke is motivated by revenge, because he believes I am responsible for his brother's death."

Amelia sighed heavily. "Yes, I see what you mean. Revenge is a deep emotion—deeper perhaps than even love."

12

The doors at the Eldridge home were thrown wide and music welcomed new arrivals with a spirit of festivity.

Lavender's hand rested on Julian's arm as they descended the three steps that took them into the oval-shaped ballroom. She glanced around, noting the women in brightly colored gowns, while many of the gentlemen were in uniform.

Julian looked down at Lavender, thinking how forlorn she looked in the pale gown that not only did not fit her but had gone out of fashion in his grandmother's day. It was obvious that she wore one of her aunt's powdered wigs, because it was too large and kept slipping low on her forehead. It was hard to see her eyes behind the spectacles that rested across her nose.

Lavender gave Julian a half smile and ducked her head. She resented the pity that reflected in his dark eyes, and she wished she could throw off this disguise and let him see her as she really was. Of course that was impossible.

Elizabeth was conversing with a handsome French officer, and when she saw Lavender and Julian she excused herself, rushing forward with a happy smile. "I have been waiting for you," she said, kissing Lavender's cheek. Lizzy had done a quick assessment of Lavender's appearance, and tried to hide her disappointment. Why was her friend trying to deliberately make herself dowdy? She had so hoped Lavender would shine tonight.

Extending her hand, Lizzy greeted Julian. "I am so happy that you made our little gathering, Mr. West." She bestowed upon him her most fetching smile.

He took her hand and made the right responses. "This is quite a turnout, Miss Eldridge, it would seem everyone in Williamsburg and vicinity has attended." His eyes moved over the room, examining every young lady's face. He was looking for the woman who had escaped his trap, haunted his dreams, and would give him no peace of mind until he had her under his domination.

Lizzy linked her arm through Lavender's. "Come and say hello to Mother and Father." Her eyes then went to Julian. "I will then introduce you around," she said, smiling. "All the women have been awaiting your arrival."

Lavender watched Julian as his eyes scanned the room, knowing it had been a mistake for her to come. It seemed somehow outlandish to her that she could spend an evening with Julian while he was searching for the Swallow among the crowd.

*                                          *                                          *

As the evening progressed, Lavender watched Julian dance with one partner after another. It was obvious to her that he was relentless in his quest to find the Swallow behind the face of one of his dancing partners. Now she watched him dance with Lizzy, who was apparently fascinated by Julian. His laughter showed that he was having a wonderful time, which was more than Lavender could say for herself.

Julian had asked her to dance earlier, but when she had declined, he had moved on to other prospects. No other gentleman had thus far asked Lavender to dance, and she wished she had stayed at home. She could not help comparing this gala with the many others she had attended as the Swallow. At those times, she had been the center of attention and surrounded by gentlemen. Of course, enticing her victims had been her purpose, and it had worked all too well. Now she was trying to pose as a shy little mouse, and that, too, was working well She smiled to herself grimly, thinking she should have chosen to go on stage as an actress.

Suddenly the laughter became too loud and unbearable and she needed to escape, so she walked outside, watching as the twilight settled over Williamsburg with a gentleness. The late summer sun seemed to linger, casting its radiant hue over the land.

Along the garden path, many Chinese lanterns bobbed on a string, while fireflies frivolously danced on the evening breeze. The melodic sound of the violin and the harpsichord filled the air, and Lavender's old familiar feelings of loneliness descended upon her like a painful knife thrust. With a strong determination, she pushed her gloomy thoughts aside.

Thinking she was alone, Lavender picked up the skirt of her gown and spun around in a circle, lost for the moment in remembering when she had been with Julian at Cornwallis's gala. Her eyes were closed and she hummed softly to herself.

Julian had seen Lavender slip outside and had excused himself to follow her, knowing he had neglected her tonight. When he saw her beneath the lanterns, whirling and turning gracefully, he stood for a moment, thinking she certainly did not appear clumsy when she danced.

When a strong hand closed around Lavender's, she thought she was still caught in her imaginary dance, and did not react until a deep voice spoke next to her ear. "I believe this is my dance, Miss Daymond."

She stopped and jerked her hand free of Julian's grasp. "I, no ... I do not ... 1 told you I cannot dance very well."

His laugh was warm and his eyes searching as he took her hand. "If you cannot dance, you were doing a very good imitation of it a moment ago, Miss Daymond. 1 have begun to think you just do not want to dance with me."

"It's not that ... I just... I want to go home."

He whirled her around and made a deep bow. "I see. Then you do not enjoy my company?"

A flood of emotions washed over her, and she wanted to hit out at him, to wound him like he was wounding her. "1 have not been in your company, Mr. West. Why don't you go back inside and dance with your other partners. I am sure they will appreciate you more than I."

His dark brows came together in a frown. "You told me that you did not dance. Being a gentleman, I merely took you at your word."

She whirled on him, her temper rising by degrees. "Then why did you ask me to come with you?"

Her little outburst demonstrated more spirit then he had thought her capable of. He offered her his arm, his face a stone mask. "Perhaps 1 wanted to get to know you better. Is that so hard to believe?"

She ignored his hand. "Do not dare make mock of me, Mr. West. If you wanted to attend Elizabeth's party, you did not need to bring me as an excuse. Did you not know you would have been welcome anyway?"

His jaw clamped together and his glance was heated and stabbing. "I care not for your frivolous little parties. I thought to do you a good turn by asking you to attend with me tonight. I see I was mistaken."

Anger caused her to speak rashly. "So you thought to bestow your charity on poor little old me? How magnanimous of you, Mr. West."

"What does it matter?" he said. "The real reason I came did not bear fruit."

"Which was?"

Julian spoke as though he were talking to himself. It was apparent he had forgotten all about Lavender. "I am searching for someone whom I cannot find. I may never see her again."

Her head snapped up and she stared at him. Yes, he was still searching for the Swallow! Suddenly her anger melted away, and she wondered if his only reason for wanting the Swallow was to avenge his brother. Could there be another motive?

"If you . .. will tell me who you are looking for, perhaps I will help you. I know most everyone about Williamsburg."

He was silent for a long moment, then he smiled. "I am still searching for my Helen of Troy."

She knew why he had come, but she would have to hide that knowledge. "I see. I. . . cannot help you 'there."

"No matter," he said dryly. "I did not really expect to find her here. It was just a chance I took."

"I wonder if you had thought of using Lizzy for your model?"

"As you once pointed out to me, none of your friends from good families would consider posing for money." His eyes took on a faraway look. "Besides, Miss Eldridge's coloring is all wrong for my Helen."

In that moment, several gentlemen ventured into the garden for a smoke, and their voices carried to Lavender and Julian. The general conversation was that of the war. Elizabeth's grandfather seemed to be holding the other's attention as he spoke of his earlier exploits when he rode with George Washington.

"I rode with the general in fifty-five. Of course he wasn't a general at that time. As you know, we were then British subjects, and our common enemy were the French and Indians. I saw Washington when his uniform was riddled with bullet holes. He had two horses shot from under him, and still he led our men away from a massacre and back to Virginia. I am now eighty years old, but if the general needed me, I'd put a uniform on right now and follow him into hell if he asked it of me. With him leading the way, we will soon drive the English into the sea!"

Elizabeth's father was the next to speak. "Virginia has suffered the indignities of the burnings and harassment of our plantations by the British. It will not be long before they realize that Virginia is vital to the economy of the Colonies, and we'll have Cornwallis tramping in our front yards. We need to be ready when that day comes."

Several voices were raised in agreement, but the look on Julian's face was one of rage. Lavender, watching him, saw the muscle twitch in his jaw. "You were right, Miss Daymond, it is time to go home."

"Are you sure the woman you are looking for is not here?" Julian could not see the humor in her eyes since her head was downcast.

"No, she is not here, or I would sense it."

"Do you know her very well?"

He looked past Lavender to a bright red Chinese lantern that was swaying in the wind. "Yes, very well." His eyes came back to her and he took her hand, leading her toward the house. "Let us take leave of our hostess. 1 have had enough of this colonial hospitality. For that matter, I have had enough of the damned Colonies."

His stride was so long that Lavender had to run to keep up with him. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted the Swallow to be his model, not out of any obsession he might have with her, but so he would have her likeness to use against her. What would he do if he knew that at that very moment he held the Swallow's hand in his? Whatever emotions had compelled him to come all the way to America to capture her still had possession of his mind. Would he soon give up his pursuit?

Lavender's mind was immersed with problems that had no solutions and questions without answers. She was glad the evening was coming to an end, because she did not know how much longer she could keep up this pretense.

Weeks passed without Julian being aware of it. Summer lingered as one golden day followed another. There were cool mornings and warm afternoons. The blue sky was a backdrop for the magnificent autumn leaves of scarlet, gold, and orange.

For the last few days Julian had been working furiously on his painting as if driven by an urgency that he could no longer control. He had to finish the portrait so he would have a likeness of his nemesis, the Swallow. He ate only when hunger drove him to it, and slept only when he could no longer see to dab paint on the canvas.

It was a bright day and the garden was kissed with warm afternoon sunlight as Julian applied blue paint to the eyes of his Helen of Troy. No, he thought, it was still not the right shade of blue. Her eyes had been bluer, more alive and vital. He stood back and surveyed his work with a critical eye. Today he was putting the finishing touches to Helen's eyes, and, needing the sunlight to aid him, he had come into the garden.

His practiced eye ran over his Helen of Troy from the crown of her golden hair to the soles of her golden sandals. She was dressed in early Greek style, the flimsy costume clinging to her soft curves. He had not been able to capture the creaminess of her skin, but her face was beautiful, angelic and innocent, her body soft and inviting to a man's caress. Oh, yes, the Swallow was the perfect subject for his faithless Helen of Troy who had also been responsible for death and disaster.

When a shadow fell across the painting, blocking off the sunlight, Julian angrily growled to the offender without glancing up. "Move out of my way. I have to complete this before the light goes."

The person obediently stepped aside, silently watching Julian as he dabbed his brush into the blue paint and applied it to the canvas. Julian, feeling someone looking over his shoulder, tossed his brush down and turned to face whoever had dared intrude on his time.

"I insist on being left alone when I paint," he said, his eyes angrily moving over the young gentleman dressed in the uniform of an American colonel. There was something vaguely familiar about the man with the golden hair and bright blue eyes. "Do I know you?" Julian asked, staring long and hard at the young man.

"I do not believe we have met, sir. May I say that you have a rare talent, but if I might make a suggestion, a little green added to the blue might give you her true eye color."

Julian stared at his painting again. "You may be right. 1 am having a difficult time with the eyes since I must paint mostly from assumption."

"You have captured her likeness very well, and I must say I am glad you are painting from assumption, since the nature of the flimsy costume would lead me to call you to task if you were using a live model. But if I might offer another suggestion, the mole you have on her left shoulder is situated on her right shoulder, and a little lower down."

Julian stared at the young man, his heart pounding in his throat. "How could you know about that? Is this woman known to you?"

The young gentleman, ignoring Julian's demanding question, pointed to the woman. "Her eyebrows are just a shade darker, and have more of a natural arch."