Rebel Dreams (11 page)

“Good. I would suggest you keep them from all other American
ports, also. This outrage isn’t localized. Question your men when they come
back from New York and Philadelphia. Why should England tax us and not
themselves? It’s not as if England is helping the colonies in any way. Your
soldiers are here to keep us in line, not to protect us.”

Alex looked scandalized. Then his expression grew harsh, and
a cold wind blew through her heart.

“You are talking anarchy and rebellion. The colonies would
not exist without England. I hope you’re not involved in this. Reports will
already be traveling back to London. If the riots continue, troops will be
called, and the leaders will be imprisoned. I’d hate to be the one responsible
for seeing you behind bars.”

Evelyn gave him a bleak look and pushed aside the rest of
her food. “Are you a spy, then? You needn’t worry about me. I’ve been an
outcast since our names were linked, and rightly so, it appears. I didn’t think
it of you.”

Alex took his time replying. “I am no spy, but I cannot go
back to my cousin and
not
report what
is happening here. It affects our shipping business. And your Lieutenant
Governor Hutchinson has already asked for my aid. He seems to think you might
be able to tell me more. From what have you been outcast because of me, Evelyn?”

“Never mind. In a few weeks you will have your reports and
be gone. I can survive another few weeks.” She folded her napkin and placed it
in the basket, then stood up. “Thank you for the luncheon. I must go back to
work now.”

Alex rose but did not try to stay her. In a few weeks, none
of this would be any of his concern. She was sorry there could not be more
trust between them.

“I believe we have an invitation to attend a function at
your uncle’s tonight,” he said. “Shall I come by at the usual time?”

She wanted to beg off. Life would be much simpler if she
could just go back to the way she had been before Alex strode off that wretched
ship and into her life. But her uncle would not accept her refusal, especially
after last night. He would want full attendance and all the pomp he could
muster to prove he was unaffected by the mob’s activities.

She nodded acquiescence and walked off, leaving Alex to
repack the hamper by himself. She had needed this reminder of their political
differences. She had been in danger of once more losing herself in the dark
need of his eyes. Lud, but what a fool she was to think she was the one he
needed.

Only a week and a half later Evelyn was again doubting her
ability to cope with a newly solicitous Alex. She mistrusted this new, more
attentive man, but she could not help enjoying his ability to cajole her into a
better mood or lend a sympathetic ear. Instead of constantly barraging her with
suggestive words, seductive touches, and taunting looks, the damnable cad
behaved the part of the gentleman.

Jacob continued slipping away at night and returning with
the exciting arguments he heard at the Sons of Liberty meetings. Evelyn kept
any mention of this organization from Alex, but she did her best to repeat
their debates to him. Perhaps Parliament would listen if one of their own would
speak in the colonists’ defense.

On the night of the twenty-sixth of August, they had no
engagements, and Evelyn sighed with relief as she walked home in the sultry
heat. She would go home and soak in cool water and put on her thinnest shift
and curl up in the east window with a book in hopes of a breeze. She needed a
break from her uncle’s society requiring heavy gowns and hoops and crowds of
sweating people in smelly wigs in stifling rooms.

Even the memory of last night’s heated discussion with Alex
in the garden did not appeal. Her heart had not been in the argument but on his
lips so close to hers. It was insufferable to think she was being reduced to a
mindless rag by a man who would undoubtedly turn her in for treason if he
thought she deserved it.

Not that anything they were contemplating could be
considered treasonous, she told herself sharply. The patriots supported the
king. It was Parliament that was being unreasonable. If they had adequate
representation in Parliament, perhaps then things would return to normal. There
would be no need for protests or acts of defiance to make themselves heard.
That’s all anyone wanted.

But when Evelyn reached the State House on King Street and
saw the stacks of firewood and trash gathered by bands of small boys and other
less-than-respectable characters, she suffered the pangs of doubt. People like
that didn’t act together on impulse.

She hurried home in time to catch Jacob before he escaped
out the back gate. She caught him by the collar. “What do you know of the
bonfire on King Street?”

“Bonfire? It’s not dark yet! They can’t have started the
bonfire.”

That answered any question about the extent of her brother’s
involvement, and Evelyn gave a ragged sigh. “What are they planning, Jacob?
What is the bonfire for?”

“They’re just going to protest a bit and then maybe march by
Judge Story’s house. It’s the Admiralty Court that’s causing half our problems,
ain’t it, Evelyn? We’ll let him know he can’t go searching our houses whenever
he pleases. Has Alex found those smugglers yet?”

“The smugglers are breaking the law, Jacob, and marching on
William Story won’t stop him from sending criminals to jail. If the mob will be
out tonight, you’d better stay home. They can get ugly when they’re drinking.
You don’t want Mama to worry, do you?”

“I just want to help for a while. I’ll be back by dark, don’t
worry. I gave my word I’d be there. You wouldn’t want me to break my word,
would you?”

No, Evelyn couldn’t ask him to do that anymore than she
could let the matter go unattended. There were those in the community who had
vowed to take arms against the rioters if they struck again. She had no desire
to take up sides between her family and her friends.

In a few hurried words, Evelyn explained what was happening to
her mother and ran upstairs to change her clothes. So much for a cooling bath
and relaxing evening. She pulled on the old pair of breeches and shirt she wore
at the warehouse. Rather than don the heavy coat, she found a leather jerkin of
her father’s and hoped it would serve as sufficient disguise in the darkness.
Tucking her hair into an old hat, she waited impatiently for dusk.

The anonymity of a mob made it easy to blend in as dark fell
and the bonfire was lit. Evelyn recognized a few faces in the glow of the
flames, but mostly they were the ruffians who roared and thundered through the
streets at night and disappeared into the back alleys in day, not the
respectable merchants she knew. She didn’t like the feel of this eerie scene at
all.

The cacophony of conch shells, whistles, and drums silenced
when Mcintosh, the leader of the South End mob, rose to make a drunken speech
against tyranny. The grandiose phrases were not at all what the man would have
said for himself, and Evelyn suspected the manipulative hand of Sam Adams
behind this discourse.

When the local “tyrants” were mentioned, however, she gasped
at the names on this list of targets. Quietly, she slipped away, praying Jacob
had the sense to do the same. It didn’t take much imagination to know what
would follow next. Her uncle, the custom inspector, had to be warned.

Judge Story might not be the only one to receive unwelcome
visitors this night.

Her uncle’s house was well lit, but the insolent maid tried
to make Evelyn stand on the doorstep while she went in search of her employer.
Evelyn ignored the command to wait and walked in, calling to her aunt from the
front hall. She realized she must look a fright, but her aunt and uncle had to
be warned.

“Evelyn, what the deuce are you about like that? By Jove—”

She interrupted before her uncle’s tirade could continue. “There’s
a mob at the State House, and they’re working up to another riot. You and Judge
Story are on their list tonight. There doesn’t seem to be anybody in control,
and they’re growing ugly already.” She turned to her frightened aunt. “Aunt
Matilda, why don’t you and Frances gather a few things and come back to the
house with me? You don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

“They wouldn’t dare come here! The governor will call out
the militia! You are just courting trouble, Evelyn. Why your father didn’t—”

“The governor is hiding on Castle Island, Uncle George, too
afraid of the mob to show his face. If you will excuse me. . . .”
Impatiently Evelyn hurried after her aunt to help her pack.

As it was, they’d run out of time. While they packed the
more precious ornaments and valuables in satchels, Evelyn heard the cacophony
of whistles and drums and the voices of hundreds approaching. Matilda glanced
out the upstairs window and paled with fright.

“They’re here! What do we do now? My word, they have torches!
There must be thousands. Evelyn, we can’t go out there. Just look at them!”

Below, the narrow street was crammed with pale faces in the
flare of torchlight. Voices carried but the words were indistinct. For her lady
aunt’s sake, Evelyn was grateful for that.

A stone crashed through a lower window, and the mob pressed
against the picket fence in front. Evelyn ran to check the back windows.
Already, men were filtering between the houses and down alleys to reach the
vulnerable kitchen entrance. Not carried away yet by the power of the mob,
these individuals milled harmlessly, swigging from jugs, shouting curses, and
greeting each other as if this were a social occasion. There would be no easy
escape.

From this height, she could see the lights of the wharf and
harbor, and her heart leapt in hope. She feared it would be dangerous to
smuggle her aunt and cousin out of here on her own, but with a little
protection . . .

She turned back to her aunt. “Put on old clothes and shoes
you can run in. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Ignoring her aunt’s cries of protest, Evelyn ran down the
back stairs and slipped out the French side doors. Cutting through the hedge,
she avoided the attention of the mob. In jerkin and breeches, she blended in,
and she escaped down a side street without notice.

The night was humid and hot, and the cries of the mob
carried on the still air. She knew decent citizens would have bolted their doors
and doused their lights as if this were a Pope’s Day riot. In the morning, they
would come out to survey the damage and all would go on as it had before. They
just hadn’t realized yet that these riots were not the same as the holiday.

Evelyn hastened toward the wharf, wary of her footing on the
cobblestones. She increased her pace at a loud cry erupting from the mob.

The revelry in the wharf tavern continued as usual, the
customers unaware or uncaring of what took place in the town. Catching her
breath and praying, Evelyn didn’t dare hesitate lest she cry craven. She shoved
open the front door and sought the owner. He raised his eyebrows at her working
clothes but gave the directions she sought.

Evelyn took the stairs two at a time. Alex had to be in his
room. He was the only one she knew who had a crew of men at his command who
could be relied upon to support an officer of the court on a night like this.
Her patriot friends apparently supported the mob, or at least had made no
attempt to stop it. She understood their position, but that did not prevent her
bitter rage of helplessness.

***

Finishing his mug of rum, Alex set it aside to admire the
buxom beauty gracing his bed. The maid had been more than accommodating these
last weeks, and she had grown brazen in her role. He had entered to find her
already half-undressed and lolling upon his pillows. He could think of no good reason
to throw her out.

Joining her now on the bed, Alex was less than enthusiastic
about the pleasures of the flesh she offered. The doxy apparently hadn’t bathed
since the last time he’d had her, or the first time, more likely. Alex tried to
conquer the protest of his nose as he reached to further untie the stay laces
that held her overflowing breasts. She giggled drunkenly as she spilled into
his hands.

He’d once thought her bounteous breasts a pleasant
temptation, but he could no longer manufacture any desire to sample her wares.
Instead, his thoughts turned to a slender beauty whose slim curves and delicate
scents enticed his imagination. Wondering how it would feel to hold Evelyn’s naked
curves against him, he felt a surge of pure lust that brought more ecstatic
giggles from the whore beneath him.

The knock at the door interrupted his pleasant reverie.
Cursing, Alex ignored it in favor of removing the last of the laces, revealing
all of his bedmate’s plentiful curves. She was already working at the buttons
of his breeches, and he surged impatiently against her hands, eager for the
release from the hampering pressure of tight cloth.

The knock became more frantic, and biting back a stream of
invectives, Alex groaned and returned his boots to the floor. Fearing there was
some trouble with the ship, he stood and made a futile attempt to restore his
buttons as he stumbled toward the door.

When he threw it open to find Evelyn on the other side, her
eyes wide with fright— and then shock at sight of the naked woman sprawling
across his bed—Alex was tempted to slam the panel shut again. Instead, he leaned
against the frame and made a show of refastening his open shirt.

“To what do I owe this honor?” he inquired, mimicking her
haughty words of a few weeks ago.

Evelyn stared at the huge breasts of the woman pulling up
the covers in the bed. Dragging her gaze away, she was confronted by the
breadth of Alex’s chest. She could scarcely keep her fascinated gaze from the
whorls of dark hair across the muscular ridges revealed by the open shirt. It
took an act of tremendous will to raise her gaze to the sardonic gleam of his
damned eyes.