Rebel Dreams (34 page)

Alex cursed and tore away. Evelyn gasped as he left her cold
and uncovered while he stood to adjust his breeches.

Without a word to her, he strode out.

They avoided each other for days. Alex had his hammock
hung in the captain’s cabin, where he could hear his cousin’s call throughout
the night. He slept little, ate less, and sought solace in the brandy bottle
until supplies were gone.

During the day, Alex sat broodingly in the main cabin while
Evelyn retreated to the sickroom. There he could be certain Henderson stayed away
from her. The nights were what ate at his innards.

Drink and anger and lust were a fatal combination, Alex
concluded by the third day without a brandy. Instead of sealing his marriage,
he had cut his own throat. He hadn’t even done a very good job of that because
he seemed to be slowly bleeding to death instead of dying outright. Every time
Evelyn averted her face and hid in her room at the sight of him caused him
another stab of anguish.

The worst of it was that they had no place to fight it out,
no privacy to air their grievances and shout and scream until they understood
the extent of the damage and might try to mend it. Their argument was too
private to be vented in front of a crew of sailors on deck or within hearing of
family and friends below. They could only put a lid on their accusations and
let them simmer to a boil.

Everett’s health did not improve with time and devotion.
They took solace in the fact that it did not worsen either. Alex privately
decided that his cousin was clinging tenaciously to consciousness just to see
Deirdre and his daughter again, but to admit that aloud would be to recognize
the other side of the coin. Once he had achieved this one goal, would the earl
then give up the fight and slip away from them forever?

Evelyn watched Alex’s grim sadness as he left the sickroom
early one morning and marveled at the changes carved into his once haughty,
cold face. The lamplight caught on a streak of silver in his thick dark hair,
and the lines about his mouth were those of grief. She longed to take him in
her arms and hold him, but she understood his pride prevented that.

She did not blame him for what had happened that night, but
he blamed himself. She questioned her own sanity in believing that he could
change, that with time and love he would learn to trust and return the feelings
she had for him. She didn’t know what drove him to these impulsive, rash
actions that hurt him as much as anyone.

She could scarcely meet Alex’s eyes without revealing her
need or blushing. Better that she avoid him and keep him from knowing how
foolishly she had fallen. He didn’t need any more pressures in his life. Let
him think he was still free if he wished. He was free. She was the one who was
bound and chained by her own heart.

They arrived in London in mid-December and a collective sigh
of relief must have blown the winter clouds away as the
Neptune
sailed
up the Thames. Evelyn pulled her cloak tighter against the whipping wind and
watched as the sunbeam caught at the Tower of London. Farther down the river
would be the Houses of Parliament, where the future of their home would be
decided. She prayed the sunbeam was a good omen.

Beside her, Jacob was staring in awe at the towers and
spires. His head swiveled to marvel at the huge bridge ahead and the towering
sailing ships all around. As they neared the dock, his eyes grew round at sight
of the massive brick warehouses stretching as far as the eye could see. Theirs
was nothing in comparison. This was London, and it was just as frightening to
Evelyn as to her little brother.

Alex joined them after his discussion with the captain on
the quarterdeck. He apparently read the fear her eyes and rested his hand
reassuringly on Jacob’s shoulder, though not Evelyn’s.

“It is like a dozen different towns all built together. Once
you know which is which, it won’t be so overwhelming. You’ll learn Fleet Street
is our publishing district, and banking is done around Cheapside in old London.
The theaters are found near Drury Lane between the old districts and the newer
ones. We will be going to St. James, which is one of the newer suburbs and has
a large park similar to your Common, although we don’t graze sheep there.”

Evelyn heard the encouragement in his voice. The buildings
and the streets didn’t frighten her. It was the people she feared. How would
his family accept a Yankee wife who was not a wife? Would Alex tell them that
he meant to have their marriage annulled as soon as possible? How would she
face their scorn, if so?

He stroked a straying strand at her nape. “We will be going
to Cranville House, Evelyn. Everett and his wife reside there and keep a suite
of rooms for me. There is sufficient room to house your mother and brother
also, but not in the same suite that we must share. Deirdre will be distraught
at Everett’s illness. I don’t wish to disturb her with our problems. She would
find it odd if you did not stay with me.”

He had read her mind. She shivered, not from the cold, but she
nodded her understanding. She stared out at the dirty water and wished Alex
would wrap her in his arms and hold her close and prove that everything would
be all right.

A carriage was sent for when they docked, and Evelyn
hastened below to help her mother. Alex had insisted that his cousin would wish
to be appropriately garbed when he arrived home, and he had enlisted several
crewmen to aid in the process. By the time the carriage arrived, Lord Cranville
was fully roused and coughing harshly, but alert to the fact that he was going
home.

The polished landau with its glass windows , gleaming brass
lanterns, and discreet coat of arms would have impressed Evelyn at any other
time. As it was, she was more concerned with seeing the weakened earl resting
comfortably on the plush cushions. Jacob accepted a seat beside the liveried
driver, and a footman in immaculate black uniform assisted Amanda and Evelyn
inside.

As she settled on the seat across from him, the earl opened
his eyes and gave her a solemn wink. His voice cracking, he commented, “Not
quite the same as the colonies, eh?”

“It would be quite dull if everyone lived alike,” Evelyn
agreed. She saw the flame of hope leap to Alex’s eyes at this sign that his
cousin had improved, but soon after, the earl closed his eyes and drifted off
again. They rode the remainder of the way in silence.

Warned in advance of their return, Deirdre and a host of
servants swarmed down the steps to greet them. Evelyn stared in awe at the
immense monument of cut stone that was Cranville House. The carriage had halted
at the foot of a wide expanse of steps that led up to a building grander than
any she had ever seen. She had rather thought Westminster might look something
like this. The State House in Boston could fit in one corner of this palace.

Her attention was distracted by the necessity of helping
Lord Cranville from the carriage. From the carriage window, Evelyn could see a
petite woman with graying hair, charming smile, and laughing eyes suddenly turn
pale as Alex spoke to her. At her command, the footmen ran to aid Lord
Cranville from the carriage and up the steps.

The earl woke sufficiently to wrap an arm around his wife’s
shoulders, but she could not hold him steady. A servant helped to carry him up
the outside stairs. The plump countess seemed very human and vulnerable as she followed
after them.

Alex returned to the carriage. He helped her mother down,
then reached for Evelyn’s hand. Their gazes met wordlessly, hers fearful, his
both worried and reassuring. He kept his fingers around hers as she stepped
down and an awestruck Jacob leapt down to join them.

“Please excuse Deirdre for not greeting you properly. She is
usually the sole of propriety, but . . .” Alex shrugged his
shoulders in helpless explanation of the bonds between the countess and the
earl.

“I would have done the same,” Amanda assured him. “Perhaps
it would be best if Jacob and I found lodging elsewhere. Lady Cranville will be
very occupied until the earl recovers. We will only distract her.”

“You are
my
guests. Deirdre will be glad of your company once she realizes there is nothing
she can do but wait for time to tell. The housekeeper will show you to your
rooms. You’ll want to rest until tea. By then the physicians will have been
here, and Deirdre may be a little more coherent.”

Alex led them inside the magnificent open foyer, where a
circular staircase led the eye upward to towering murals and a brilliant
skylight that cast the hall in a warm glow. At Evelyn’s gasp he smiled. “I have
heard the classicists murmur ‘Palladian’ and ‘Jones’ when describing this
monstrosity, but the truth is that the first earl was too cheap to hire any
architect at all. He just stole the ideas from the best ones he could find, and
then threw in a few of his own.”

“I don’t suppose he also housed a bank, a church, and a
village in here while he was at it?” Evelyn inquired as they turned toward the
stairs where the housekeeper waited.

“My great-great-grandfather was a bit of a rascal. He
was
a bank of sorts, and undoubtedly
thought of himself as God once the king traded him a title in payment of the
huge debts owed to my ancestor’s coffers. I’ll show you his stateroom sometime
if you wish to see his idea of a church. And it takes a village of servants to
run this place, so you’re not far wrong.”

The housekeeper waited stoically through these irreverent
explanations. Alex gave her an amused look before making his introductions. “Evelyn,
this is Mrs. Green. She hates me because I’m more like the first earl than
anyone dares to admit. Mrs. Green, this is my wife and her family. You will
show Mrs. Wellington and Jacob to the blue guest rooms. I think I can still
find my way to my own rooms, unless you’ve boarded them up and had them
exorcised?”

The stout woman regarded this nonsense without expression. “Yes,
sir. As you wish, sir.” Then she directed her gaze to Evelyn in her drab
colonial attire, and the housekeeper’s expression softened. “Come this way, ma’am.”

Evelyn watched as her mother and brother were led away while
Alex took her arm and steered her in the opposite direction. She had been
terrified of meeting Alex’s family. She should have spent more time worrying
about how to deal with an army of formidable servants. At home, Molly counted
more as family than maid.

A woven carpet muffled their steps as they passed bronze
statues in windowed recesses and beautifully polished elongated tables with
elaborate inlays. Alex’s suite apparently consisted of the entire corridor, for
there were only three doors leading from it, and they were at the far end,
secluded from the public rooms and the remainder of the household.

He opened the left-hand door and led her into a sitting room
that would have occupied the entire first floor of her home. Tall pediment
windows overlooked a garden at the back of the house. Heavy silver-gray brocade
draperies shimmered in the remains of the late-afternoon sun. Marvelously
wrought Persian carpets with the jewel colors of rubies and sapphires blended
with threads of silver and gold adorned the floors. Graceful sofas in shades of
blue and gray were interspersed with comfortable chairs in pale gold. The
effect was both gracious and overwhelming. Evelyn lifted an inquisitive eyebrow
to her silent husband. “Do you do much entertaining?”

At this response, Alex hesitated, then grinned. “I doubt
that Deirdre would have heart failure if we held a reel or two in here, but
there are other rooms better suited for dancing. I believe you’re supposed to
bring your closest lady friends here for tea and gossip. Otherwise, it’s just a
place to while away our evenings if we tire of the social whirl. I have a desk
in my chamber, so the secretary over there can be yours. I expect you will wear
it out writing to all your Yankee friends about our ostentatious way of life.”

The trace of that rare smile on his lips did not relieve all
Evelyn’s uncertainties, but it steadied her. Realizing she still clung to his
hand, she released him and took a few steps into the room. Her gaze caught the
door at the far end of the room, and she tilted her head inquiringly. “Our
chambers?” she asked.

He took her arm to lead the way. The sapphire blue carried
over to the next chamber, with more of the saffron and accents of the deeper
blue in the carpet and occasional chairs scattered about. The canopied bed
provided the centerpiece, its posts draped with transparent veils of gossamer
yellow obviously not intended to keep out cold drafts. A deeper gold silk
comforter covered the wide bed, and pillows in shades of blue and gold were
stacked decadently at one end. The draperies were of sumptuous gold velvet, and
Evelyn had to wonder how many lovely dinner gowns she could have made of such
luxury.

She would have to stop thinking like that if she were to
stay married to Alex. She sent him a sidelong glance as she walked toward the
draperies and pulled them back to look out. His features were expressionless,
and she could not fathom his thoughts as he introduced her to the room he meant
for his wife. Had that one night on the ship meant an end to his plans for
annulment? Her insides clenched in apprehension as she tried to imagine
spending the rest of her life in a chamber such as this. Could she do it?

She could do anything if she knew Alex was with her. The
real question was, would Alex stay by her side or go his own way? He had not
made that very clear.

Feeling his silence, she offered a quavery smile. “It is
lovely, Alex, like an enchanted fantasy world. Do you ever grow accustomed to
living like this?”

He shook his head. “I spent too many years on the edge of
poverty to fail to appreciate it.” He gave another of his lopsided grins. “I
should have taken you to Cornwall first. You would have felt at home there.
This is a palace meant to impress. The estate from which the wealth was
obtained is a working farmhouse, glorified by turrets from medieval times,
perhaps, but destitute of this extravagance. My cousin and Cranville grew up
there. I think you would like it.”