Rebel Dreams (28 page)

He wasn’t there. She knew it as soon as she saw the single
candlestick she had left burning on the newel post. Taking the ring of the
holder with her finger, Evelyn returned upstairs, leaving him to find his way
in darkness.

She debated sleeping in some other room, but the beds had
been stripped of linens and the feather mattresses taken out and beaten in
preparation for storage. The house rang hollow as she walked through it.
Carpets had been cleaned and stored with cedar shavings to keep out insects,
and there was little left to muffle her footsteps. Within a week this would no
longer be her home.

After removing her jacket in the emptiness of the room that
was to have been her wedding chamber, she bolted the door. She needed time to
think.

***

Alex sipped at his Madeira and listened to the arguments
of the well-dressed gentlemen around the table. Caught in a city on the brink
of violence, acting governor Hutchinson would have to give in.

But the true governor on his fortified island would not feel
the same pressure. It would be difficult to persuade him to abandon the stamps
before all hell broke loose.

Alex grimaced at being caught in a petty colonial war over a
box of tax stamps. He would rather be in the warm arms of his new bride,
although he suspected she would brain him with the chamber pot before he
reached that happy state. But the way things looked, they were all in danger
until the stamps were settled. He had a plan that might involve a minimum of
bloodshed if the earl could be persuaded to it. It just awaited the proper
moment to be introduced.

Glancing at the rising sun outside the window, Alex eased
back in the chair. So much for wedding nights. He adjusted his position and
turned his thoughts away from hot kisses. It would be hours before Cranville
could even be approached. And it would be hours before the plan could be
carried out. Perhaps he could sneak back to the house for just a little while.
A quick tumble in daylight wasn’t quite as satisfactory as a full night of
seduction, but he was willing to take any crumb offered. That one brief
coupling more than a week ago couldn’t satisfy his hunger for his bride.

***

Unable to sleep, Evelyn finally gave up. At dawn, there
were no bells, no people rushing through the streets, no gunfire. If the stamps
had arrived, the anticipated outrage had sputtered to nothing.

Not willing to sit idle and wonder where her new husband
was, unable to face her mother when she arrived to finish packing, Evelyn
dressed and hurried to the warehouse. She didn’t know what she would do with
herself when she left her home behind, but she had plenty to do while she was
here. The paperwork had been sadly neglected this past week.

The man that Alex had recommended to help her with the
warehouse was already at work when she arrived. He greeted her with a cautious
nod and set aside his pen.

Unaccustomed to seeing anyone but herself or her father with
the books, Evelyn nervously fussed with removing her gloves and cloak. The
weather had worsened, and she sent an anxious glance to the ships in the
harbor. Most of them would soon leave for warmer ports. The
Neptune
was
the only one of any size remaining.

“I did not expect to see thee here today, Miss Wellington . . .
Mrs. Hampton. Is there aught I can do for thee?”

He spoke like the Quaker he was. She understood why Alex
trusted the man, but she could not help the vague uneasiness at the sound of
her new name. The warehouse had been her family’s livelihood for years. While
they lived with Alex, they would not need the income to live on and could very
well afford to pay a clerk. But if the economy continued to falter and her
mother and Jacob desired to return here, there would not be enough cash to
support this man plus her family. They would have to rely on Alex for their
livelihood.

Hanging her outer garments on the cloak-tree by the door,
she joined her new manager behind the counter. “I have neglected my work this
past week, Mr. Johnson. Perhaps I could take a look at the correspondence and
our ledgers and see where we stand?”

He brought all she required and retired to the warehouse to
begin the inventory that Alex had requested he take.

Evelyn worked longer than she expected. The books did not
look promising, but with careful management the warehouse could survive. How
long would it take before this tense political situation changed for the
better?

Reminded by Mr. Johnson that it had grown dark, Evelyn
donned her cloak and allowed herself to be escorted back to Treamount.

There were lights in the windows and she unconsciously
increased her pace.

The delicious aroma of clam chowder greeted her as she
entered. Mr. Johnson politely declined her invitation and went on his way,
leaving Evelyn to seek the source of the smells by herself. She had nibbled at
an apple and some toast for breakfast and completely ignored lunch. She was
starved.

The familiar sight of her mother bending over the fire sent
both warmth and worry through her. She should have been the one here preparing
the meal for her new husband. Evelyn glanced around and found only Molly
kneading bread and Jacob licking a cake bowl, just as it used to be before Alex
came into her life. Where was Alex?

Her family didn’t seem surprised that she had spent the day
after her wedding elsewhere. She was handed a stack of plates and silverware
and ordered to set the table.

Counting the dishes and finding only enough for themselves,
she hesitated. “Has Alex sent word when he will be home? And Lord Cranville,
should we not have asked him to join us?”

That caused her mother to look at her in surprise. “Did he
not tell you? Well, I suppose he thought I would get the message to you. I just
assumed when you weren’t here . . .” She didn’t continue that
thought but went on to the next. “Alex and the earl have gone out to Castle
Island to talk with Governor Barnard. They didn’t say, but I believe they are
trying to persuade the governor to place the stamps in the earl’s custody. It’s
hard to believe that a man as loyal to the crown as Lord Cranville would
undertake such a dubious task, but Alex can be persuasive, I suppose.” She sent
Evelyn a look that said just how persuasive the gentleman could be if he could
talk her daughter into doing what she shouldn’t.

Evelyn hid her blush by heading for the dining room. “The
earl spent many years in Barbados,” she said. “I wouldn’t put too much reliance
on his loyalty to anyone, just like Alex.”

That seemed to be the most reasonable solution to her
questions. Both men were shrewd businessmen looking to protect their interests.
She wasn’t certain where she fitted into their plans or if she did fit into
them, but the likelihood of ever prying anything out of Alex was small. Telling
her something of his past was an anomaly he would not repeat. Their discussions
seldom centered on feelings or beliefs or ephemeral topics like that. The only plan
for the future she could pry out of him was the desire to have their children
born in the bed upstairs.

Slamming the dishes onto the table, Evelyn cursed her
stupidity in marrying a man who didn’t love her. He had no intention of
changing his way of life for her. That much was obvious. But she had to throw
away everything she knew and loved for him. It wasn’t fair.

His continued absence did not lessen her sense of injustice.
When her family left her alone later that evening in expectation of Alex’s imminent
arrival, she contemplated barring the door again. Only the thought that he
would simply return to the doxy at the tavern made her hesitate. She was the
one who would suffer. Not he.

Damn! Evelyn slammed the bolt open and stared at the huge
empty bed with tears in her eyes. Why had she ever been fool enough to believe
that her love alone would make this marriage work?

***

Alex stifled a yawn as the earl and the governor delved
into the diplomatic intricacies of releasing the stamps from the protection of
the fort. With night, the drafty building had become chillingly cold, but the
two statesmen had usurped the best places near the fire. They didn’t even need
him except as a buffer when the negotiations grew hostile. No sleep last night,
little enough the night before, and it appeared he would be here for the night
again at the pace of the present proceedings. Damn, but what he wouldn’t give
just for the luxury of sprawling across a feather mattress with Evelyn in his
arms.

He frowned at the thought of Evelyn. After stopping at Upton’s
to wake the earl, he had gone back after dawn to explain to his bride why he
would be delayed. He had hoped to find her alone, but he would have settled for
some tea and a kiss and a moment’s conversation. Instead, he had found the
house empty.

He had known where she was, but he had no time to track her
down at the warehouse.

Alex took another long drink of hot rum and let the heat
seep through his cold bones. Why had he thought that, once married, Evelyn
would settle down to a wifely existence like every other woman in the world? He
must have been temporarily insane to believe his name and his financial support
would relieve her of the need to run a business and play at politics.
Supporting her family was only an excuse to be a meddlesome tyrant.

Well, that would all end when he put her on the ship for
England. She would have no choice but to settle down and play wife and,
eventually, mother. Why, then, did he feel uneasy when he tried to fit Evelyn
into that picture?

Evelyn was frantic when still another night passed without
word from Alex. She dressed hastily the next morning and hurried to her uncle’s,
only to discover from a maid that the earl had spent the night away too.

Before she could escape, her uncle caught up with her. With
a gesture toward the breakfast room, he indicated that she join him.
Reluctantly, Evelyn followed in his footsteps.

“I’ve been meaning to have a talk with your husband, but he
seems to be a busy man these days. Do you have word yet when the ship sails?”

That seemed an innocent enough question, and Evelyn settled
her skirts over the chair offered and accepted some tea. “By the end of the
week, I am told. They are still in the process of loading, and there seems to
be a shipment or two that has not arrived.”

“Then your husband means to pay your fine? That is generous
of him. You will be keeping the warehouse, then.”

Evelyn had serious doubts that Alex had any such intention
concerning the exorbitant fine. She had until Friday, the first of November, to
find the money or go to jail. If she were on a ship on the way to England, she
could not do either.

“The warehouse will go to Jacob when he comes of age. That
has always been understood,” she said, sipping her tea. Further discussion of
the warehouse would not be beneficial to her emotional health.

“Then you will need someone to manage it in your absence.
The fellow you have down there may be a fine bookkeeper, but those types are
useless in acquiring new business and expanding investments. You would do
better to trust it to family. I’ll be happy to recommend someone for the
position.”

Oh, lud, she didn’t need to start the day like this. Setting
her cup aside, Evelyn rose. “You were in such a hurry to see me married, Uncle
George, that you should have realized my husband would be the one to deal with
such matters. He hired Mr. Johnson. You will have to speak with Alex if you’re
not pleased with his choice. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some other
calls to make.”

Sweeping out in a flutter of feminine finery, Evelyn hoped
she’d succeeded in convincing her uncle she was no longer the one in charge of
the warehouse. At the moment, she was almost convinced that Thomas Henderson
had been right when he had urged her to sell and reinvest in something more
profitable. Had it not been for the warehouse, she would never have met Alex,
never been arrested, and wouldn’t be worrying herself sick over how the Stamp
Act would harm the business.

Had Alex been available, she would have consulted him, but
he was busy pretending he wasn’t married, so she walked down the street to her
lawyer’s office. She might find Henderson’s ubiquitous flattery offensive, but
there was no question that he was a good lawyer and that her father had relied
on him. If the growing signs of his wealth were any evidence, he had good
investment sense. It wouldn’t hurt to ask if there might be a better investment
for Jacob than the warehouse.

Henderson greeted her effusively, as usual. When he heard
her question, he looked startled but tapped his fingers thoughtfully against
his desk.

“Then I assume either your husband has agreed to pay the
fine or he has provided the court with sufficient evidence to prove your
innocence if you don’t need the warehouse to pay your fine. I know he has been
trying to locate the owners of the contraband stored in your warehouse. Has he
succeeded?”

“If he has, he has not informed me, Mr. Henderson. You must
discuss that with him. He realizes that under no circumstances will my father’s
trust be touched for any purpose but my dowry and Jacob’s future. I assume he
has discussed the dowry with you. The sale of the warehouse would free the cash
immediately for my portion, and thus partially reimburse him for the cost of
the fine if he so wishes. Other than that, the bulk of the sale would need be
reinvested so Jacob could start his own business when he is ready.”

“I shall give the matter thought, Evelyn. The warehouse
might not sell for so much as it would in prosperous times. If there is any
chance that the fine will be commuted due to additional evidence, I would
recommend that you discover it. It’s a factor in the decision.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” Evelyn left and hurried on to the
warehouse. How would she ever persuade Alex to tell her what was in that packet
of information that he and the earl had argued over? Was there some way to find
the packet and discover it herself?