Once a Rebel Page 6

  “My imagination is good, but not that good!” She hadn’t fully registered the improbability of his timely appearance because amazement that he was alive had filled her mind. But the timing was equally amazing. “By what miracle did you gallop up on a white horse here and now?”

  “I was hired to rescue the widowed Mrs. Audley and bring her back to England.”

  “Hired?” She dropped her brush and stared at him. “By whom? When I left Jamaica, I cut off communication with everyone back in Britain.”

  “Maybe that’s why someone wanted you to be found and rescued if necessary,” he explained. “A fellow called Sir Andrew Harding made the request of a gentleman who is good at getting things done, and that gentleman asked me if I’d undertake the task.”

  “So you agreed to cross an ocean and enter a war zone to rescue a complete stranger? You’ve become a bold and dangerous adventurer, I see.” Certainly he looked dangerous in a quietly lethal way.

  “Not really,” he said peaceably. “I consider myself more of a problem solver willing to do what’s needed. This was an extreme request, but the money was good.”

  She frowned. “You had my address. I wonder how that happened. I did my best to vanish when I came here.”

  “You’ve never heard of Sir Andrew Harding? I was told Mrs. Audley was a connection of Sir Andrew’s wife, so perhaps he’s married to one of your sisters.”

  She was about to deny knowing the man, then paused when a vague memory surfaced. “I think the fellow visited Washington not long after I moved here, before this war broke out. He must have been on an official trade or diplomatic mission, because he was given a reception at the President’s House. I made gowns for several women who attended, and they talked about the reception on their next visits. It was quite the grand affair, apparently. He brought his wife with him. How strange to think she might have been one of my sisters and she recognized me somewhere about town!”

  “If so, why didn’t she talk to you?”

  Callie considered. “Maybe it was the sister who betrayed me to my father when I ran away with you. Perhaps she feared my reaction. And justly so! If she hadn’t done that, you wouldn’t have been beaten half to death and transported to the other side of the world.”

  “Strange to think that if not for her, we might have made it to Scotland and married,” he said pensively. “But we were very, very young. Too young for marriage.”

  She’d believed that, too, but despite their youth, she thought they’d have made it work. “I ended up married anyway, but to a man more than three times my age.”

  “How did you come up with the name Mrs. Matthias Audley? Your husband wasn’t an Audley, was he? You’d have mentioned that to me when you were trying to escape the marriage.”

  “His name was Matthew Newell. I chose Matthias as being similar but different from his real name.” She smiled ruefully. “And I chose Audley in memory of my long dead childhood friend.”

  “I’m flattered, I think. Was he a horrid husband? I hope not. I often wondered.” He smiled without humor. “If I’d been the praying sort, I would have prayed that he treated you well.”

  She hesitated, wondering how to explain Matthew. “He treated me kindly. I could have done much worse. But his situation in Jamaica was complicated, and he preferred to avoid conflict, which produced more complications.”

  “At least he treated you well.” Richard smiled a little. “I want to know how many children we have. Do any of them look like me?”

  “There are two, and neither looks at all like you.” Wondering how he would react, Cassie continued, “They’re quadroons.”

  Chapter 7

  Much of Gordon’s attention was focused on what a very beautiful woman Callie had become, how translucent her chemise was, and on the effort required to prevent his interest from showing. He’d never thought about her appearance when they were children—she’d been the indomitable Callie with the red-gold hair and freckles. He’d been startled when she’d said the planter from the Indies wanted to marry her because she was so beautiful.

  At that age, to the extent he’d thought about Callie’s appearance, he would have classified her as pretty enough, but nothing special. Familiarity had blinded him to the classical perfection of her features and the smooth grace of her movements. Her figure was a little fuller now, in the best possible way.

  He forced his thoughts away from admiring her to thinking about the comment she’d just made. “A quadroon means being one quarter African and three quarters European, doesn’t it? Your husband was half African?”

  “No, he was as English as you or I.”

  “So your husband’s first wife was half African?”

  “No, she wasn’t, either.” Callie sighed, some of her tension fading at his mild acceptance. “It’s a complicated story. They’re my stepchildren. I have no child of my body, but they are mine even though not of my blood.” Her expression was challenging. Gordon suspected that issues of race had complicated her life in Jamaica. But clearly she loved her stepchildren, and he wanted to know more.

  “I’d like to hear the whole story,” he said quietly. “My curiosity hasn’t faded with the years.”

  She smiled a little. “Does it still get you into trouble?”

  “All the time,” he said promptly. “But I’ve come to realize that curiosity is incurable. Haven’t you learned the same?”

  “I’ve probably had less opportunity to indulge my curiosity than you, but it hasn’t gone away,” she admitted. “Merely been suppressed.”

  He supposed that her responsibilities had caused that. “So what is the long, complicated story about your children?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I’ll have to talk about my marriage, which is at the root of the complications.”

  “I heard you swear to your father that you’d be a good, docile wife in order to stop him from beating me to death,” he said. “You paid a very high price for our mutual foolishness that night.”

  “We both did, but yours was higher.” She brushed a strand of red-gold hair from her cheek. “I wouldn’t have chosen to marry Matthew, but he was a decent man. From things he heard me say when he visited my father, he deduced that I was a rebellious sort who might welcome moving away to an exotic new home. He was ready to remarry and he liked my looks, so he offered for me.”

  “And your father was keen to get rid of you at a profit,” Gordon said dryly.

  “Exactly. Luckily, Matthew was a much nicer man than my father. Speaking of which, is my father alive, or has an apoplectic fit carried him off?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know my own father’s fate,” Gordon said. “I’ve heard no news from Kingston Court or Rush Hall since I was dragged off and imprisoned.” He’d been so badly beaten that he wasn’t aware of much until he was deposited on the ship that would take him to the prison colony. “It was years before I made it back to England, and by then I had no interest in my family.”

  “With any luck, both our fathers have gone to their eternal rewards in a place much hotter than Jamaica,” she said tartly. “To return to my story, I found the Caribbean interesting and beautiful, but the slavery there appalled me.”

  Gordon grimaced. “The shipping of slaves from Africa has been abolished and it’s high time slavery itself was made illegal, but so many plantation owners have so much of their capital tied up in slaves that they claim they can’t afford to free them. It’s a damnable situation.”

  “That’s what Matthew said when I tried to persuade him to free his slaves. The plantation adjacent to ours was owned by Quakers who freed their slaves and paid the ones willing to stay fair wages. Matthew said he didn’t have enough money to do that.” She sighed. “As slave owners went, he was better than most. He let me have the money to build a church for the workers and looked the other way when I went to the slave quarters to teach them reading and writing.”

  “That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but as I said, he didn’t i
nterfere. Matthew and I became friends. He enjoyed having a pretty young wife as a hostess, and he wasn’t very demanding. We got on well enough until I discovered his mistress and her children. That was . . . a shock.”

  Gordon frowned. “Many men have mistresses, but it must have been distressing to unexpectedly discover her. How did that happen?”

  “One day I rode in a different direction from usual and came across a pretty little cottage tucked away in an area that was difficult to find even though it wasn’t far from the main house. Matthew was at the cottage with Susannah and the children. She was so beautiful and they were so obviously a happy family. . . .” She took a deep breath. “It was one of those moments when one’s life changes forever.”

  Gordon nodded, understanding. “I see. In a place like Jamaica, a slave is acceptable as a mistress, but she could never be his wife. How did you deal with the revelation? That’s probably too personal a question, but we’ve both established that we’re curious beasts.”

  She laughed ruefully. “I was so startled that I jerked on the reins and my horse almost threw me.”

  “A good thing you’re a fine rider.”

  “Indeed. Getting my mount under control gave me a moment to collect myself. When the horse was settled, I saw that Matthew looked embarrassed and belligerent and Susannah and her beautiful little children looked terrified.”

  “Why terrified? Did you look murderous?”

  “Possibly,” she admitted. “I’d developed a reputation for being forceful, so Susannah feared what I might do. Actually, what influence I had with Matthew I used to improve conditions for his slaves. I persuaded him to discharge a brutal overseer and I made sure the workers had decent food and medical attention. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t justified in fearing what I might do under such circumstances.”

  “Was Matthew also terrified of you?”

  “Very likely,” she said wryly. “I was always civil and respectful of him, but I had a stronger personality than he. I think I made him nervous.”

  Fascinated, Gordon asked, “What did you do after discovering your husband’s secret family?”

  “I told Susannah she and her children had nothing to fear from me, and said to Matthew that we would discuss the matter later.”

  He was about to ask Callie how that discussion with her husband had gone when harsh voices intruded from the street. He crossed the room in two steps and dowsed the lamp. Callie drew a breath to ask what he was doing, so he swiftly put a hand over her mouth. In a whisper, he explained, “British soldiers are out there and looking for loot, I suspect. Better they not discover this cottage or my horse.”

  She nodded and he removed his hand, but he didn’t move away. In the heavy darkness, he was acutely aware of her. He felt her anxiety, and also her courage.

  Coarse words were becoming clearer as the looters came closer. Gordon’s mouth tightened as he realized the soldiers were speculating on the best houses to rob. In a breath of voice that couldn’t have been heard more than a yard away, he whispered, “Not troops who entered Washington with Ross. Probably they came from the British camp just outside the city.”

  A cockney voice cut through the babble. “The white ’ouse with the blue trim. Let’s break in there. Whatever traitor owns it has plenty of blunt and we deserve a share!”

  Callie breathed an anguished sigh. “The Marquands’ house! They’ve always been good neighbors to me. Can you do anything to stop those men?”

  Because it was Callie asking, he actually considered for a moment before saying with regret, “Sorry, but the odds of facing down soldiers who may be drinking and are far from their commanding officer are not good. The risk might be worth it to save a life, but not possessions.”

  “You’re very pragmatic for a bold adventurer,” she said, her voice dry.

  “That’s how one has a chance of becoming an aged adventurer, which is my goal,” he said firmly. As the loud voices continued, he rested one hand on her shoulder, offering the comfort of touch. It seemed right to comfort his old friend Callie, though it would be easier if she wasn’t now grown-up, alluring Callie.

  CRAAASH!!! A shocking clamor of sounds, frighteningly close, sent heat and debris blasting through the night. Blows hammered the roof like an angry giant and the soldiers outside bellowed shocked curses. Callie made a strangled noise and Gordon caught her into an embrace.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured as he held her trembling body. “That was the sound of the frame and walls of your house collapsing from the fire damage. The thumps on the roof were probably bricks thrown by the collapse. Luckily this cottage is far enough away and protected by the trees so there was no real damage. With the ground wet from recent rains the fire shouldn’t spread.”

  “Sorry, I’m not usually such a nervous rabbit,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m so glad I sent the rest of my household away!”

  She made no move to leave his arms, and he was in no hurry to release her. “After a day like this, you’ve earned the right to have strong hysterics. But this night will end, and tomorrow will be better.”

  The soldiers noisily agreed to find a different house to loot. As the voices faded, Callie exhaled softly and stepped away from Gordon. “You’re right. There’s no point in staying here and mourning what I’ve lost. I’ll be off to Baltimore in the morning.”

  He found the wine by touch and poured two glasses, pressing one into her hand before drawing her down to sit beside him on the old sofa. In the dark quiet, he was very aware of her warm body mere inches away. He swore silently to himself. The problem was that he hadn’t been with a woman in far too long, so his body was reacting too strongly to her alluring femininity.

  But this was no random widow with a roving eye and an interest in mutual pleasure. This was his friend Callie, who had endured a shattering day and by the sounds of it, a rather trying life.

  He took her hand for comfort, no more. “How did your life change after you discovered your husband’s mistress?”

  “I kicked him out of my bed,” she said succinctly. “Matthew’s first English wife sounded dreadful, which is likely why he took up with Susannah. I told him I’d continue as his hostess and mistress of the plantation, but he had broken our wedding vows, so he’d lost his marital rights where I was concerned.”

  He smiled into the darkness. Now that was the bold, defiant Callie he’d grown up with. “Most men would not take that well.”

  “I think Matthew was rather relieved to no longer be living a double life,” Callie said thoughtfully. “He truly did love Susannah and their children, and they loved him.”

  “Did you consider going back to England then?”

  “To the hell of my father’s house? Or as a pathetic grass widow with no children or purpose for living? No,” she said flatly. “In Jamaica, I was busy and did useful work. Matthew and I rubbed along very comfortably after the dust and emotions settled down.”

  “It sounds like a less than ideal marriage.”

  She shrugged. “There are many worse. Matthew treated me with kindness and respect and I was able to do what I wanted most of the time.” A smile entered her voice. “That part I liked. Life is much more rewarding when a woman doesn’t have a man causing her problems.”

  “Should I be offended on behalf of my sex?”

  She laughed. “You’ve always made my life better, not worse. But you are not a normal man.”

  “I’m fairly sure I’m offended,” he said with amusement.

  “Think of my remark as a compliment,” she said reassuringly. “Matthew was a rather weak man, but he had a kindly nature. I was fortunate that he wasn’t a hard-drinking brute like too many of the other plantation owners.”

  “And he was fortunate that you were able to accept the situation and adapt your marriage in ways that benefited you both.”

  “I was much happier when I stopped thinking of Matthew as my husband. Once the truth was out, Susannah and I became good friends. She was a lovely, kind woman,
and I fell in love with the children. I made sure they received an education equal to what a plantation owner’s legitimate children would have.” She halted for a moment, then continued with a catch in her voice. “When Susannah was dying, I promised her I’d look after them as if they were my own.”

  “I assume Matthew emancipated Susannah and his children?”

  Callie said a rude word. “He said he would, but he never got around to it. He died not long after Susannah, and his death put his children at risk.”

  “Which is why you fled Jamaica with them?”

  “Yes, and I brought Susannah’s parents with me. Sarah and Joshua were both half European, the children of plantation owners by slaves. They were the butler and housekeeper at the plantation and they love Susannah’s children as much as I do. I asked them to come with us and gave them emancipation papers immediately. But there might have been legal problems since Matthew had a legitimate son by his first wife. Henry was the heir, and he was not the sort of man to free valuable slaves.”

  Finally understanding, he said, “Which is why you came here and changed your name so he couldn’t find you or the children.”

  “Exactly. Matthew brought me to Washington and Baltimore several times over the years, so I knew both cities.” She laughed a little. “Well, Washington is more town than city, but it has aspirations, or did before the British decided to burn down everything important. Baltimore is much larger and Matthew owned a warehouse with living quarters above, so I sent my household to stay there. Now I need to join them to make sure everyone’s safe.”

  “How do you plan to reach Baltimore when most of Washington has fled, taking virtually all of the horses, carriages, and wagons with them?”

  “I’ll walk if I have to,” she said calmly. “I can reach the city in two or three days. With luck, a wagon or carriage might take me along.”

  He winced at the thought of her hiking the distance through a war-disturbed countryside. “Not a good idea. I came here from London on a ship that is now tucked into one of the creeks off the Potomac, so we can sail to Baltimore.”