Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (36 page)

Bethlyn knew Ian wouldn’t approve of Hans and not because of Molly’s age. The man was a mercenary Hessian soldier in the employ of the British government to subdue the Philadelphia citizens and quell their need for liberty. No, Ian would definitely disapprove, but Bethlyn didn’t know what to do about Molly’s dilemma.

As Bethlyn sat sipping her tea in the dining room, a servant appeared to inform her that she had a guest, waiting rather impatiently in the parlor.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Sir Jeremy Smithers, ma’am,” the servant replied.

“Jeremy!” Bethlyn couldn’t believe her ears. In a flash she rushed from the dining room and into the parlor to be quickly ensnared into Jeremy’s embrace. “It really is you!” Bethlyn cried, tears of joy running down her cheeks.

“Yes, and no worse for wear,” he told her, his own eyes expressing his pleasure at seeing her again.

Bethlyn held him at arm’s length. Jeremy had lost some weight over the last two months, but the loss only sharpened his features and made him look rather handsome, something which Jeremy had never been. A qualm of conscience stung her to realize that whatever trials he’d been through were because of Ian and his fight for liberty.

“Tell me what happened to you after the ship was attacked.” Bethlyn sat beside him on the sofa, her hands in his, afraid he’d dissolve into thin air if she let him go.

Jeremy’s soft expression hardened. “I’ll never forget that horrible night or forgive that infamous Captain Hawk for what he did. I feel lucky to have survived that attack, but I doubt the privateer ship would have attacked at all if
Nightingale
hadn’t fired the first volley.”

This was a revelation to Bethlyn. She’d assumed Ian’s ship had instigated the battle, but she listened as Jeremy continued.

“I believe Captain Montgomery was to blame, arrogant bastard. I was put in a longboat with him after the battle, and all he could do was bemoan his fate that Thomas Eversley would have his hide.”

“What happened to him?” Bethlyn broke in.

“A British ship picked us up two days later. We arrived in Charlestown, South Carolina, after a week, and I didn’t See Montgomery again. Perhaps he turned tail and ran, fearful to go back to London and have to report his failure to Eversley. Anyway, it no longer matters. I stayed at the home of a wonderful family in Charlestown, and left just two weeks ago to seek you out.”

Jeremy gazed deeply into her eyes, his hands tightening around hers. “Did any harm come to you, Bethlyn? I mean — did that blackguard Hawk hurt you?”

Jeremy wanted to know if Hawk had touched her, but she couldn’t confide to him that Hawk was her own husband. She decided it was better to lie about everything than to enrage Jeremy with the truth.

Shaking her head, she smiled tenderly at him. “I wasn’t molested in any way.”

“Thank God! I’ve been beside myself with worry since that night.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I should have protected you, but Mavis and I couldn’t find you.”

“I sneaked away to the room where the doxies were kept.”

He groaned. “I should have known.”

Bethlyn laughed at his harried look. “I was perfectly safe.” She rang for tea, and a servant hastily arrived with the tray and teapot in hand. Settling back on the sofa, they couldn’t stop smiling at each other. It was so wonderful to be with Jeremy again.

“Mavis is married,” she informed him.

“To whom?”

“Believe it or not, she married Mr. Gibbons, my husband’s secretary.”

“Ah, the gentleman who has such superb taste in jewelry. I wish her well.” A pregnant pause followed. “How is your husband?”

Placing her teacup on the table beside the sofa, she shot Jeremy a brilliant smile and clapped her hands in delight. “He is so wonderful to me, so kind and considerate. You must stay and dine with us this evening. Please say that you will. I want you to meet Ian.”

“Goodness! When did all of this adoration come about? If I recall it was only two months ago you declared you hated the bounder and wanted your freedom.”

Her face glowed and her eyes shone brightly. “I didn’t love him then, Jeremy, but I do now. More than anything in the world.”

“I believe you,” he remarked, and gathered her to him in a brotherly embrace.

~ ~ ~

The evening passed in good cheer. Bethlyn and Ian sat at each end of the long mahogany table, casting lingering looks at each other. Molly and Jeremy carried the conversation until supper was finished. Afterward, Bethlyn, followed by Molly, went into the parlor and embroidered initials on handkerchiefs to be given as Christmas gifts to the servants.

In the library Ian poured Jeremy a snifter of brandy and sat beside the roaring fireplace in a wingback chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Jeremy was seated in a companion chair.

“Fine brandy,” Jeremy complimented his host.

Ian inclined his head. “The best of my stock, but I think you have something on your mind other than my brandy. All through supper I noticed your eyes darting between Bethlyn and myself, weighing the situation, I gather.”

“You’re quite astute, so it should come as no surprise to you that I care deeply for Bethlyn and worry about her future.”

“Her future with me is secure, I assure you.” A frown marred Ian’s brow. “Do you think I will treat her in a poor fashion?”

“If by ‘poor fashion’ you mean material things, no, I find Bethlyn more than adequately cared for. I’m worried that you might abandon her again, and I doubt she’d be able to stand another rejection from you.”

“Ah, so it’s my past mistakes which color your opinion of me. I should like to be able to defend myself, but in all good conscience I can’t. I admit I was a poor husband to her.”

“And now?”

Ian’s expression gentled. “I love her more than my very life.”

Jeremy sipped his brandy, seemingly weighing Ian’s words. “I trust you mean that sentiment. When I return to England I should like to think that Bethlyn is happy and will never be mistreated.”

“You have my word as a gentleman.”

“Glad to hear that, sir. But I wonder if Bethlyn can ever come to love this country of yours. Some of it, from what I’ve seen, is quite lovely, but a great deal of it is most savage and wild. Bethlyn is a rare and beautiful creature, quite delicate beneath that rebellious streak of hers. She was intended to rule over a manor house as a nobleman’s wife, but—”

“Was forced to marry a lowly colonial instead,” Ian interjected, not hiding a smile.

“No disrespect on your person,” Jeremy quickly assured Ian, “however, that is the truth of the matter. Will Bethlyn feel safe in her love for you once the novelty of romance wears thin? You must admit that the two of you are ill-suited in a great many ways. Your roots are here, hers are in England, and I fear that one day she may pine for her homeland. If so, would you let her return?”

We’re more ill-suited than you know, Ian thought, and gulped down his brandy before pouring another one. It seemed that he’d underestimated Sir Jeremy Smithers, having decided before meeting him that he’d be a simpleton despite his wealth and status. The young man was quite intuitive and truly concerned about Bethlyn’s welfare. Until that moment Ian hadn’t worried about losing her, now that they’d truly found each other and loved each other. But the problem Jeremy posed might just arise one day. He didn’t want to lose Bethlyn, never having figured she might grow discontented with his homeland.

More than once she’d badgered him about giving up the identity of Captain Hawk, he not taking her plea seriously. But he knew this would always be a source of contention between them. Bethlyn was British by birth, loyal to her king. He wasn’t. Would she ever feel about liberty the way he did? He knew without a doubt that he’d never rest until the British were driven from America’s shores.

Had his foolish heart, the heart he had protected for so many years, fallen so desperately in love with his wife that he’d lost perspective? Would his love of liberty be the reason if she ever left him? A shudder slid through him, but when he turned to Jeremy, his eyes held assurance and he smiled with confidence. ‘‘I’m not Bethlyn’s lord and master. She’s free to do whatever she wants.”

Jeremy nodded and stood up, extending his hand to Ian. “You’re a good man, Mr. Briston, Bethlyn is safe with you. I shall take my leave now, and bid Bethlyn and your sister farewell. No need to see me to the door.”

Jeremy exited the library, and Ian stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace, a feeling of dread settling over him to think that his politics might be the ruination of his marriage.

A number of men, many of them posing as loyalists and some of Philadelphia’s true patriots, met once a week to rally together, to plan and scheme. Patriotism was at an all-time low since General Washington and his ragtag group of soldiers had taken up winter quarters at Valley Forge only a week past. It was rumored that conditions were exceedingly bad due to the intense cold. There was a shortage of adequate warm clothing, and food was hard to come by.

Ian gritted his teeth to think of Americans being forced to endure such deprived circumstances while the British wined and dined in warm comfort in his own city.

No, he decided, he couldn’t give up the cause of liberty, not for anything — not even for Bethlyn.

Yet he’d never give her up and must turn her mind away from his nefarious dealings as Captain Hawk, from the nights he returned home quite late after a meeting. Lately she hadn’t mentioned her dislike of the whole situation, and he hoped this meant she was growing contented as his wife and with her new homeland. Still, her wifely duties didn’t take up all of her time. She needed something else on which to concentrate.

The answer to his problem was Briston Shipping. He’d allowed her to come to the office whenever she liked to look over the books, and he admitted that she had a good head for business. Why not openly encourage her interest in running the company? Marc would be there to supervise on those days when his identity took him away as Captain Hawk or on those nights when he attended the secret meetings. Bethlyn would be so busy with the office and so tired in the evenings that she’d barely have the time or energy to spend wondering where he was or what he might be doing.

As soon as the holidays were over, he’d spark her interest in the company. Now, having decided he’d found the solution to his problem, he left the library in time to see Bethlyn closing the front door behind a departing Jeremy.

“I shall miss him,” she told Ian with tears in her eyes. Holding out his arms, he immediately wrapped her in a tender and passionate embrace. He tilted her chin and looked into her eyes.

“Perhaps I know a way to make you forget your sorrow for a while,” he whispered in a husky, suggestive whisper.

His kiss held tenderness but also something wild and unquenchable. Desire thrummed through them, and without any further words, Ian lifted Bethlyn from her feet and brought her to his bed, where he more than adequately showed her the intensity of his love.

~ ~ ~

Despite the freezing temperatures, Bethlyn enjoyed visiting the marketplace. The bustling activity always filled her with awe, especially this day before Christmas when a festive feeling hung in the air.

People seemed somehow more polite, more eager to be friendly. Walking among the crowded stalls, she chose the vegetables and fruits for the holiday meal, stopping before a butcher’s stall to choose the hens. A servant from Edgecomb waited dutifully beside her, holding a basket in which to place her purchases. She’d never had reason to patronize a market before, but now that she was truly mistress of Ian’s home and his heart, she wanted to please him and be the perfect wife.

Loud squawking noises were heard when the butcher grabbed a plump hen, and to her surprised eyes, he twisted the creature’s neck, then took a sharp knife and beheaded the animal while she watched.

“Oh, my,” she moaned, feeling sick, and turned away before issuing orders over her back for the servant to carry home the produce and the Christmas hens later.

She’d never seen an animal slaughtered, and she doubted that she’d be able to eat the trussed-up Christmas bird when placed before her at mealtime. But after her stomach settled into place, she silently scolded herself for being squeamish. If she wanted to be the perfect housekeeper and wife, she’d have to become used to such things.

Passing a fish vendor, she searched for some sign of Mr. Tolliver and Nate, but didn’t see them. She’d have walked by, but a small voice calling to her from behind the counter stopped her. She turned around and saw Annie, the young girl who’d been on
Nightingale
. Annie smiled shyly at her and curtsied. Bethlyn immediately discerned that the girl’s thin cloak, out of which peeked wool-gloved hands with holes in the fingertips, wasn’t warm enough for such bitterly cold weather. Bethlyn felt guilty for her fox-lined cloak and expensive kid gloves.

“How are you, Miss Beth?” Annie asked.

“I’m so pleased to see you again. Do you work here?”

“Yes.” For a second Annie’s smile faded as she glanced down at the dead fish, packed in ice on the counter, but then she brightened. “At least I ain’t whoring now.”