Captive Pride (12 page)

Though his tread was soundless as he moved into the room, Faith seemed to instinctively sense that he'd returned. Her gaze followed him, her smile soft as she greeted him.

“You're back….”

Matt was a bit startled to find that she was awake, and he smiled brightly in response. “Yes. The doctor is being summoned and will be on his way to your home with all due dispatch.”

Faith hadn't believed before that moment that it was possible, but when Matt smiled, he appeared even more handsome. His infectious grin added warmth to his already classic features.

“Thank you.” Her heart was pounding as she watched him. “I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you….”

“There's no need to even consider repayment,” he insisted. “I don't want you to give it another thought. My reward is seeing you well again.”

“I'm feeling much better now,” Faith told him.

“Good. Waddington managed to come up with these garments. I hope you'll find them suitable.” He spread out an assortment of feminine attire on the bed next to her. Though clean, the quality of the servant's clothing had been less than he'd hoped to find for Faith, but at this hour of the morning he'd had to settle for what was available. He'd paid the price quoted without dickering.

“But where are my things?” She was embarrassed to think that he had seen her unclothed, but there was no telltale flicker of acknowledgment in his expression.

“The soldiers had torn them beyond repair and the doctor decided it would be best just to discard them.”

“Oh.” Faith mourned the loss of one of her two better day gowns, for her wardrobe was meager.

Matt wondered at the sadness that had been reflected in her face for just the briefest of instants, but before he could inquire, someone knocked at the door.

“G'morning, Lord Kincade.” Mary, a plump, buxom serving wench, bustled into the room carrying a tray heavily laden with steaming food as soon as he opened the door. Beatrice, a skinny girl with a beaklike nose and squinty eyes, trailed behind her toting a small table.

Faith blinked at the maid's greeting.
“Lord” Kincade? Had the girl greeted Matthew as “Lord”?

“Thank you,” Matthew was saying politely as the two servants set the table for them.

“You're welcome, m'lord,” they both cooed. They thought Matthew Kincade irresistible and wished that the handsome nobleman would take notice of them. They had heard talk in the kitchen of the girl's misfortune and subsequent rescue by him and thought her a most lucky woman. Oh! To be saved by Lord Kincade! How romantic!

Matt, however, was unaware of their interest as he directed, “Miss Hammond needs your help to dress before we breakfast. I'll wait outside while you assist her.”

Before Faith could say anything, Matt had gone from the room, leaving the two maids to attend her.
Maids?
she thought quizzically. She had dressed herself for her entire life, and yet Matt had assumed that she would need help.

“Is something wrong, ma'am?” Mary asked as she sorted through the garments.

“Did you call him ‘Lord Kincade'?”

“Yes, ma'am. He and his brother are newly arrived from England this week,” Mary told her, surprised that she didn't know he was an aristocrat. “Didn't he tell you?”

“No. I had no idea that he was a nobleman.” Faith was astounded.

“Yes, ma'am,” Beatrice said, “and he's such a fine good-looker, too.”

“That he is,” Mary agreed quickly, glancing toward the door. “Come now. Let us help you with these clothes. We don't want to keep him waiting long.”

For the first time in her life, Faith allowed herself the luxury of attendants, but only because it would hasten her exit. She had to leave…had to get away. Lord Matthew Kincade was too dangerous for her peace of mind. Besides, she knew how little the aristocrats thought of colonials. Hadn't she heard the soldiers' mocking, degrading statements? She stood quietly as they helped her into the garments and then brushed out her long, dark hair. Though the dress and underthings were made for another, they fit reasonably well. Faith was feeling much more herself when she finally stood before them fully clothed.

“Now you look fine for His Lordship,” Mary remarked, taking care to hide her envy. “We'll be going now.”

The words screamed inside her as they hurried from the room.
You look fine for His Lordship
. Lord Matthew Kincade was the stuff of which fantasies were made, and she could not allow herself that dream. There was no point in remaining. She was fully recovered, except for a few bruises and aches, and her mother needed her. Self-preservation dictated that she go, now. She would not share the meal with him. She would not stay with him a moment longer.

The maids admitted Matthew on their way out and he thanked them warmly for their help before facing Faith.

“You look lovely,” Matt complimented as he stood before her, his eyes glowing as his gaze skimmed over her. She was beautiful, despite the secondhand clothes. Her hair was glorious, tumbling unconfined down her back in shining splendor. Though the bruise on her forehead was more pronounced, the healthy rosy color in her cheeks seemed to assert that she was feeling better, and he felt a quickening deep within the heart of him. She was going to be fine. Without thought, guided only by his feelings, Matt bent toward her then, his lips brushing ever so lightly against hers.

It was a soft kiss, a gentle exchange, nothing like the disgusting advances of the soldiers. It sent a thrill of physical awareness through Faith unlike anything she'd ever felt before and made her all the more determined to flee. Breaking the contact, she darted toward the door, throwing it wide in her need to escape.

“Faith…” Matt was caught off guard by her action. Only when his startled eyes met hers and witnessed the wariness there did he think he understood his mistake. He shouldn't have touched her…shouldn't have taken advantage of her trust. She had been so abused, and he had frightened her away. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean…please stay….”

“No…I can't….” Faith had to get away from his overwhelming presence. The kiss had only emphasized the need. She was vulnerable, her defenses were down, and he was perfect, everything she'd ever wanted in a man, but he was beyond her reach. “I have to go….”

With that she disappeared into the hall, dashing for the stairs. Matt stood perfectly still, stunned by all that had happened. She was gone. He hesitated only an instant before running after her, but as he started from the room, he ran headlong into Noah. The jolt of the impact jarred them both.

“Matt? What the hell…?” Noah grasped him by the shoulders to steady them both.

“It's Faith….”

“Faith?” he frowned.

“The girl. She just ran out, and I was trying to catch up to her.” Matt shifted free of Noah's grip and hurried to the top of the staircase, only to find to his dismay that she'd already gone from sight.

“What happened?” Noah asked as he came up behind him.

Matt did not want to answer, for he believed that the blunder he'd made in kissing her had frightened her away, and he felt more than a little ashamed.

“Nothing,” he answered curtly.

“Nothing? Then why were you chasing her down the hall?”

“I wasn't chasing her down the hall,” he denied. “I just didn't think she should be up and about yet, that's all.”

“Oh.” Noah knew that there was more to the moment than his brother was ready to confess, but he let it drop. “Join me for breakfast, then?”

Matt wanted to race after her. He knew her address. He knew he could hire a conveyance and reach her home before she did, but he did not. He was certain that he was the last person in the world she would want to see.

“I've got a better idea,” Matt remarked. “Why don't you join me?” And he led the way back to his room.

Standing before the mirror above the washstand in his room, Noah finished arranging his neck cloth into a precise style. He then donned his ivory satin waistcoat and quickly buttoned the polished gold buttons. Noah had always disdained the ornately embroidered fashions of his contemporaries, thinking them particularly dandyish, and instead had favored a more understated style, one that enhanced the man and not the clothes.

His peers in London had often chided him for not following the current trends, but the ladies had thought him daring. His elegantly tailored wardrobe had emphasized the lean power of his manly form, and the women had found him near to irresistible.

Noah was not remembering London society, though, as he drew on the unadorned black velvet cutaway coat he'd selected to wear to the Demorests' ball. Instead, he was thinking of CC. There was unfinished business between them, and he wondered how she was going to handle welcoming him to her home tonight. Would she welcome him openly and make him feel at home as she'd promised her father before their first meeting? A brief, leering smile played about his lips at the thought. Or would she try to stay out of his way and ignore him as much as possible? There was only one thing he knew for sure. It was going to be interesting seeing how she handled herself in front of her father's loyalist friends. Turning back to the mirror, he surveyed himself critically. Satisfied that he looked his best, he paused to idly adjust his ruffled cuffs when a knock sounded on his door.

“Noah, it's me….” Matt called out.

“Come on in,” he responded.

“Are you about ready? It's well after eight,” Matt told him as he let himself into the room. Since his fateful encounter with Faith Hammond early the day before, Matthew had thought of little else, and he was looking forward to the diversion the ball would present. The young colonial woman had haunted his thoughts ever since she'd rushed from the inn and out of his life. Though he had been tempted on several occasions to go to her home, he had held himself back. She had suffered enough. By leaving as she did, she had let him know how she felt in no uncertain terms, and he knew there was no point in pursuing it.

“Just about,” Noah answered. Studying his brother's reflection in the mirror before him, he was impressed by the fine figure of a man Matt presented. Though his evening dress was not as starkly plain as his own, Matt had chosen well. Playing down the fancy embellishments so popular with others, he had opted for a simple gold-thread design on his dark blue vest, down the front of his matching coat, and about the deep cuffs. The results were striking on the younger man. Matthew was no fop, and Noah was pleased.

“Well done, Matt. You look quite the man-about-town.”

Matt was pleased by his brother's compliment. He had always admired Noah's taste in clothes and had tried to emulate his style to a certain degree. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. It's quite the truth,” Noah assured him. “Has the carriage arrived yet?”

“Yes, it pulled up just a minute ago.”

“Let's be on our way then,” he encouraged, and they started below.

“Tell me about the Demorests,” Matt urged a short time later as the conveyance they'd hired made its way through the winding streets of Boston toward the Demorest home. “You've said very little about them, save that Edward Demorest is the agent you're dealing with here in the colonies.”

“There's little else to tell.” Noah, immersed in thoughts of his upcoming confrontation with CC, wanted to avoid his brother's probing questions.

“I'm rather looking forward to making some acquaintances tonight,” he went on. “My interest in the colonies has grown, and I want to learn more about their way of life.”

“Don't get too enamored with the way things are here,” Noah warned.

“I know, I know,” Matt sighed. “We're returning to England in the spring, but still, there's no reason why I shouldn't find out all I can while I have the opportunity. Who knows? Maybe someday in the future I'll return on my own.”

Noah could see no reason for his continued interest, but he let it go. If Matt's interest in the colonies kept him occupied and out of his way while he took care of business, he was all for it.

“Does Demorest have a family?”

“One daughter,” came Noah's curt reply as a vision of CC dressed in her boy's garb danced before him.

“Oh? What's she like?”

The question was a simple one, but Noah found himself groping for an appropriate answer. How could he describe a chit who one moment had been spouting off about her dislike of English aristocracy and the next had been the picture of decorum? Or how could he explain her involvement in political intrigue and dressing as a boy? CC Demorest was a hotheaded, stubborn, and opinionated female; all the things a woman should not be, in his judgment. Yet the memory of her kiss and the smooth ivory silk of her skin sent a rush of excitement through him. Yes, Noah vowed silently as he fought to subdue his desire, there definitely was unfinished business between them.

“She's pretty,” he finally answered abstractly, gaining Matt's immediate attention.

“Really? Then why haven't you mentioned her before?”

“Why should I have?” Noah snapped, much to Matt's confusion.

“No reason. It's just unusual for you to ignore a good-looking woman,” he quipped, his remark earning him a strained glance from his brother.

“As you should know, women are the last thing I'm concerned about right now,” he replied harshly.

Matthew fell silent as he pondered Noah's complete change of personality. Just a few short months before, he had been a rake and a roué of considerable repute on the London social scene. With the beauteous Andrea Broadmoor at his side, he had been the envy of many, but now everything was different. Again Matt wondered, as he turned to gaze out the carriage window at the passing city, if his brother's more lighthearted side was lost to him forever.

 

Eve Woodham arched a finely plucked pale brow in approval of her own appearance as she studied herself in the mirror above her dressing table.

“You've outdone yourself this time, Peggy,” the lovely widow told her maid. “This style is perfect, and the bird…Well, it's just a stroke of genius.” Eve turned and twisted before the glass, admiring the new-fashion hairstyle Peggy had created.

“Thank you, ma'am.” The servant, unused to compliments from her exacting mistress, smiled brightly, thankful that she'd pleased her. She had had her doubts about attempting the new arrangement, but knowing that the ball this evening at the Demorests was an important one to Eve, she'd taken the risk. Piling Eve's blond hair high over an oval wire frame, she'd powdered it and then artfully added the nesting bird to create what she hoped would be a trendsetting style for her fashion-conscious mistress. The results, she had to admit even to herself, were stunning. There was no doubt in her mind that Eve would be the most lovely woman at the ball.

“Hurry now and get my gown. I want to make an entrance tonight, but I don't want to be too late.” Eve stood and moved to the center of the room. She slipped out of her dressing gown and let it fall unheeded to the floor, knowing that the maid would pick it up later.

With Peggy's help, Eve donned her hoops and then slipped into her new gown, an open-robe style of pale blue, ivory-shot silk. The low-cut bodice was most revealing, and Eve's slight smile was scheming as her maid approached her with the dainty fichu that was used to modestly cover that exposed delicate flesh.

“No,” Eve stated flatly when Peggy would have adjusted the material over her cleavage.

“No, ma'am?” The maid's eyes were wide in wonder.

“I think not tonight, Peggy.”

“But, Miss Eve…”

Eve's blue eyes flashed in crystal coldness as she spoke of her plan. “Tonight Lord Noah Kincade will be in attendance, and I fully intend to attract his attention.”

“Lord Kincade?”

“He's just arrived from England. I haven't met him yet, but I've heard that a handsomer man has never walked the face of the Earth,” she confided, an edge of unswaying determination in her voice.

“Ooh! How exciting! No wonder you've been in such a tizzy getting ready for tonight.”

Eve's smile was hard. “Mark my words, Peggy, I'm going to do whatever it takes to win him.”

After coming out of mourning for her elderly first husband two years before, Eve had been sought after by most of the bachelors of Boston. Gorgeous, intelligent, and extremely sensual, she made a practice of keeping men dangling. She had experienced one bad marriage, her dead husband having been very tight with his money and very jealous of her, and she was determined to select her second husband with more care.

Since being widowed and left with a comfortable fortune, Eve had discovered that she liked being in control of her own destiny. As she waited for the right man to come along, she had made the best of her widowhood, using it as both a device to attract suitors and a defense against too ardent ones. When she'd heard the talk about Lord Kincade, she'd become convinced that he was the right man. The colonies bored her, and having always longed to live in England, Eve was setting her cap for Lord Noah Kincade. Rumor had it he was tall, handsome, and very rich. She did not intend to fail.

“But what of Lord Radcliffe, ma'am?”

“Geoffrey?” Eve scoffed with an indifferent laugh. “He's a plaything to me, Peggy. He has no money of his own. He's the earl's youngest son and has been banished here by his father for his excesses.”

“But he's certainly a good-looker.”

“It's nice that a man is handsome, but it's not essential to my future happiness.”

“I don't understand.” The maid was truly puzzled. Eve and Lord Geoffrey had been lovers for some time now, and Peggy had always expected them to marry.

“Geoffrey's pockets are lined only out of his father's need to keep him away from home. He's totally dependent on his relatives for his income, and I might add they are not overly fond of him.”

“And Lord Kincade?”

“I don't know much, just that the family owns Kincade Shipping and that they are very wealthy. Obviously, since Noah Kincade's here doing some of the negotiating himself, he must be intricately involved in the business. According to one source, he has every intention of returning to England in the spring.” Eve whirled about to give Peggy a triumphant smile. “So, with any luck at all, before the year's out, I will be Lady Kincade and on my way to England to be lady of the manor.”

“Oh, Miss Eve…” Peggy sighed. “He's everything you've ever wanted…an Englishman who's rich and titled and good-looking.”

“I know,” Eve agreed. “I've waited for a long time for Noah Kincade to come along, and I don't intend to let him get away. So”—she turned and posed for Peggy—“what do you think? Am I beautiful enough?”

“You're more than beautiful, ma'am. You're breathtaking. No man will be able to resist you tonight,” she affirmed.

“Good.” She went to her jewel box and selected her finest diamond eardrops and matching necklace. “Help me with these. We must convince Lord Kincade that I am every bit his equal money-wise, or he's liable to dismiss me as a mere colonial.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Peggy was truly surprised at the amount of effort her mistress was putting into catching His Lordship, and she wondered if all her careful planning was going to work.

“Peggy…run and tell James that I'm on my way down, and have him order the carriage brought around.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The maid hurried to comply.

 

CC descended the staircase gracefully and Edward stood in the hallway below, watching her with glowing eyes. She was beautiful, this child of his. Wearing a modestly cut emerald brocade gown of the open-robe style, its sleeves falling in graceful ruffles at her elbows, CC was dazzling, and he was not averse to letting her know how proud he was of her.

“You're lovely, my darling.” Edward met her at the bottom step and pressed a fatherly peck on her cheek.

“Thank you, Papa.” She smiled up at him, her eyes warm with affection. “I hope you're satisfied with the preparations I've made for the ball.”

“I've gone over everything with Gilbert, and you've arranged things marvelously,” he complimented. “The first of our guests should be arriving in the next few minutes, and the music is scheduled to begin in about half an hour.”

“I'm glad you're pleased. I know how much this means to you, having the governor and Major Winthrop in attendance.”

“They are very important men, and I hope the evening proves a pleasant one.”

“It will.” CC had spared no expense in planning for their guests. Taking her father's arm, she allowed him to lead her into the parlor.

“A sherry, CC?”

“Please.” She accepted the crystal glass and sipped delicately of its amber contents as she moved to the window.

“Lord Kincade will be here, you know, as well as his brother,” Edward offered.

A smile curved her lips, but did not reach her eyes, as she replied in a teasing tone that hid her very real aversion to the man, “I know, and I promise not to embroil him in any more political discussions.”

Secretly, CC dreaded the upcoming confrontation, for she wasn't overly confident of her acting abilities. She despised Kincade from the very depths of her soul, and she hoped that she wouldn't have to speak to him at all beyond a welcoming greeting. After that initial encounter, she was going to make every effort to avoid him. Considering all that had happened, CC was certain that that arrangement would suit him, too.

For an instant the fear stabbed at her that Kincade might reveal all to her father, but she quickly forced the possibility from her mind. He'd be a fool to risk exposing his own involvement with the rebels, and she knew, in spite of everything else, that Lord Noah Kincade was no fool.