Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (31 page)

Mavis made everything sound so simple, but it wasn’t. Nothing in her life had ever been simple. Ian Briston was the most complex man she’d ever known, save for her father, and maybe besides his physical attractiveness, that was why she felt drawn to him. Their physical attraction wasn’t enough, she mused. Their backgrounds were different, and most definitely their political loyalties would keep them apart.

Ian had made it quite clear that he didn’t want her for his wife. No matter the stirrings within her breast for the man, for the pulsating desire she felt when he was near. Passion wasn’t enough and she’d never humble herself to beg for his love, not certain she loved him either.

Mavis stirred her tea, and her words brought Bethlyn out of her reverie. “I’m expecting a child next summer.”

Bethlyn hugged her friend. “How happy I am for you and Marc! A baby. I should love to have my own child one day.”

Mavis winked at her. “Well, you know what you have to do to get one.”

~ ~ ~

When the carriage pulled up to the house an hour later, Bethlyn went inside and pulled off her cape in the foyer. Going into the parlor, she stood at the window which faced the garden and quickly backed away, peering through the web of lace on the curtains. A tall man, dressed in the green uniform of a Hessian soldier, held the cloaked figure of a woman in his arms, whom Bethlyn readily identified as Molly.

The girl’s head was tilted upward, and even at a distance Bethlyn discerned love on both of their faces for each other. She clung to the man as if she feared to release him, and finally after a tender kiss, the soldier left. Bethlyn noticed Molly lift a hand and wipe away a tear from her eye before hurrying to the front of the house.

Soon Bethlyn heard the front door close. Molly, carrying some boxes, smiled at her. “I went Christmas shopping with my friend,” she told Bethlyn before heading upstairs. Bethlyn didn’t question her about the Hessian soldier. Somehow she knew Ian wouldn’t approve of the man, and she saw no harm in allowing Molly to claim some happiness.

For the second time that day, Bethlyn envied lovers.

~ ~ ~

The evening of the play arrived. A bone-chilling cold settled over Philadelphia in early December, and the hint of snow was evident in the air. At Edgecomb, however, as Bethlyn dressed, the warmth from the blazing fireplace in her room kept the cold at bay.

As her chemise and a layer of petticoats were pulled over her head with Sally’s help, and Molly flitted in and out of the room to borrow a hair ribbon or a pair of Bethlyn’s new slippers, Bethlyn wondered about the wisdom of sleeping in the room next to Ian’s. Granted, the room was larger and much more beautiful than the guest room. It had belonged to Jessica Briston, and though the room no longer reflected the woman’s personal tastes, Bethlyn could almost imagine her as she sat before the ornately carved dressing table, brushing her thick mane of dark hair.

Was it because of Jessica that Ian felt unable to love her? Was it because of who her father was? More important, did she want to love Ian? The memories of their nights together still haunted her. She’d never thought lovemaking could be so wonderful, or that she’d crave the man’s hands upon her after what she’d learned about him. But she did, and she almost hated herself for wanting him.

“Which pair should I wear, Bethlyn?”

Molly’s voice broke into her thoughts and Bethlyn noticed that she had a red satin slipper on her right foot and a green one on her left.

“I’d say you look like a Christmas wreath.”

“Which one goes with this dress?” Molly asked, and giggled at Bethlyn’s remark. She turned and the berry colored satin swished about her legs.

“The red ones.”

“I think so, too.” Molly took off the green shoe and replaced it with a red one. “I do so love your gown. The color suits you so very well.”

Bethlyn glanced at her reflection in the mirror, somewhat unconcerned with her appearance. The forest green of the very low-neck gown enlivened her eyes and caused the unusual color of her hair to be more noticeable. With the large pendant at her neck, set with emeralds and pearls, and the companion ear bobs, she looked extremely elegant. However, her appearance was of little concern to her since Ian barely seemed to acknowledge her existence anyway.

“I trust I shall do,” Bethlyn mumbled, and grabbed for a velvet black cape with hood.

Moments later, Bethlyn and Molly sauntered into the parlor where Ian rose from a large, overstuffed chair. In a brown velvet jacket with black trousers and high knee boots, he looked so handsome that Bethlyn felt a catch in her throat.

“We’re ready to leave for the play,” she told him, and couldn’t keep the appreciative gleam out of her eyes.

“So, I see,” he said, and took in both their appearances, not bothering to hide the lustful gleam in his eyes as his gaze speared Bethlyn’s.

Bethlyn felt somewhat flustered and started to turn away when she felt Ian’s hand on her arm. “I have something for you. Perhaps you might indulge me by wearing it tonight.”

From inside his breast pocket, he withdrew a gaily wrapped tiny package and placed it into her hand. “Happy wedding anniversary.”

Bethlyn’s fingers curled around the gift. She felt stunned that he’d remembered. Or had Marc reminded him?

“A present!” Molly cried. “Do open it, Bethlyn, or I shall die of suspense this very moment.”

Slowly she opened the package and then the satin-lined box. Inside was a delicately wrought spray brooch in a gold and enameled-silver setting, garnished with rubies and diamonds. “How lovely,” she breathed, and allowed Ian to take it from her and pin it on the front of her gown. His fingers brushed the tender flesh above her breasts, and a hot, surging heat rushed through her.

“Thank you for the gift,” she told him, sounding wooden.

“Goodness, Bethlyn. Aren’t you going to show your appreciation by giving Ian a kiss?” Molly asked, a mischievous grin on her pretty face.

Bethlyn felt herself coloring at the request, but she lifted her head and kissed Ian’s cheek.

“You can do better than that,” he mumbled, and his arms locked around her waist, pulling her against his hard frame. His moist, warm lips devoured hers, and when he drew away, her mouth burned with fire.

Extending an arm to her and Molly, he smiled. “Shall we go?”

~ ~ ~

The play proved to be a delightful comedy, and afterward everyone milled about the theater. Colorful silks and satins mingled with the scarlet-coated soldiers. Bethlyn, Ian, and Molly left their box and wandered among the upper crust of Philadelphia society.

To Bethlyn’s surprise, Ian kept her at his side and introduced her to his acquaintances, many of whom she’d already met with Molly. His hand constantly stayed at her elbow, guiding her through the crowd and whispering choice pieces of gossip to her about each of the people she met.

“Lord Montague is a senile old man, but he keeps a beautiful young woman as his mistress. However, his mistress doesn’t care that he’s addled in the head, only that he’s wealthy,” he told her before the man and woman in question made their way to them.

And so it went for the next hour. Ian never left her side except to fetch her a cup of punch. She felt comfortable with him, almost as if she truly belonged to him. She might be his wife, but no one would guess they led separate lives and would soon divorce. Bethlyn didn’t wish to contemplate the end of her marriage at that moment. The brooch he’d given to her earlier was a reminder of his thoughtfulness. His gift had touched her in a way she couldn’t fathom, because somehow she knew that Marc had kept his word and hadn’t reminded Ian of their wedding anniversary. She knew without a doubt that Ian had chosen the brooch for her, and the realization that he’d taken the time out of his day to shop for her meant more than the actual gift to her.

From the kiss he’d bestowed upon her earlier, and the solicitous way he hovered around her, she wondered if his attitude towards her had changed. Might he also want their marriage to last? She didn’t dare hope such a thing. Not yet. But the thought intrigued her immensely.

John Andre broke into her thoughts when he approached them with a very pretty young blonde beside him. He introduced the young lady as Peggy Shippen, proclaiming her as one of the loveliest Philadelphia belles.

“Oh, John, what a flatterer you are,” Peggy crooned up to John, but she didn’t dispute his remark. She turned her attention on Ian and Bethlyn, who were joined by Molly at that moment. “My parents are giving a soiree next Saturday evening. I wish to take this opportunity to invite all of you in my parents’ absence tonight. Please say you’ll come.”

Ian bowed to her. “We’d be most pleased to attend.”

“How divine. I shall inform my parents.” She shot them a dazzling smile and presented her hand to Andre, who placed it on his arm. “I see some other acquaintances and must speak to them. Adieu until Saturday.” Peggy Shippen and John Andre breezed through the crowd in a montage of a lavender lace and crimson cloth.

“Such a flighty creature,” Molly noted, her nose wrinkling in disdain. “I don’t know what John sees in her.”

“Miss Shippen is a pretty young lady, and we know how John adores attractive women. It seems Peggy has earned a place in John’s heart, Bethlyn,” Ian said, not hiding his complacent grin.

“John is my friend,” Bethlyn countered, not really minding if John Andre squired Peggy Shippen.

Molly asked Ian to fetch her a cup of punch, and as Ian walked away, Bethlyn kept her gaze trained on him. Clearly, she found him to be the most handsome man in the room. The British officers in their colorful uniforms couldn’t compete with Ian’s good looks. Just watching him caused her silly heart to pound harder, and for the first time in weeks she entertained the idea of going to his bed that night. To think about being in his arms again caused thrills of excitement down to her very toes.

“My, but you have a sly look on your face,” Molly commented.

Bethlyn turned her attention to her sister-in-law. “Do I? I hadn’t realized.”

“It’s quite easy to see how much you love my brother.”

“Molly, please. Let’s not discuss such a private matter here. But if you’re wont to discuss being in love, then let me ask you a question. Who was the Hessian officer I saw you with a few days ago?”

Molly attempted to look blank, but the high spots of color on her cheeks belied the look. “I — don’t — know what you mean.”

“Certainly you do, or did my eyes deceive me and that wasn’t you I saw in the arms of a German officer in the garden?”

“Oh, Bethlyn, please don’t mention that to Ian. I admit you saw me, but I don’t want Ian to know about Hans. My brother still believes me to be a child, and if he knew I wanted to marry Hans, he’d try and stop me. I do so want him to approve.”

“I understand. What is your young man’s full name and how did you come to meet him?”

Molly moved closer to Bethlyn and whispered to her. Her eyes now contained an animated gleam just to speak about her beloved. “He is Captain Hans Gruber, a Hessian soldier. I met him over a month ago at the home of a friend. Ian couldn’t accompany me that night, so he has no idea that Hans exists. We love each other so much and plan to marry just as soon as I can gather the nerve to bring him home to meet Ian. Please don’t tell Ian anything until I feel the time is right.”

Molly’s pleading and the lovestruck look in her eyes caused Bethlyn to give her her word. She envied Molly her German officer, just as she envied Mavis and Marc. How wonderful it must be to love someone and to have that love reciprocated. Could there be a chance for herself and Ian?

The bit of hope she felt about keeping her marriage together faded the moment she went in search of Ian. She saw him with a beautiful and voluptuous auburn-haired woman, standing in a secluded corner behind the stage. The woman leaned near to him, her nearly naked ivory bosom resting against the front of his jacket. His arms were twined around her waist, and Bethlyn didn’t miss the way his lips touched hers in a kiss so intimate that Bethlyn blushed.

She wanted to rush past the potted palm which hid her from view and do what? Attack them, pull out the hussy’s hair? Never had she been so jealous of another human being, not even that loathsome Della on board ship. But then Della had never truly posed a threat, because the woman was a common trollop. The woman in Ian’s arms was not common. Her very being oozed wealth and status, and Bethlyn suddenly realized that this woman just might be Lady Cynthia Connors.

Feeling tired and drained, she turned away from the sight of Ian and the woman she thought was Cynthia and returned to Molly.

“Have you seen Ian?” Molly asked. “I would like some punch, and he’s taking so long that I could have gotten it myself.”

“I didn’t see him. Molly. I feel quite ill and would like to go home. I’ll send the carriage back for you and Ian later.”

“You do look quite pale,” Molly noticed, concerned. “I shall accompany you home. I see Captain Andre. I’ll tell him to relay the message to Ian.”

Bethlyn nodded, and she headed for the carriage and was soon joined by Molly. “I do hope Ian isn’t so worried about you that he braves this cold night to walk the distance home before the carriage returns for him,” Molly commented, and patted Bethlyn’s hand in a comforting gesture.