"I do not. But you're my husband now and I just think we ought to get things straight between us." She looked from him back to the mirror.
"Quite the pair, aren't we?" he mused.
Cassie nodded in silence. She still couldn't believe Devon was hers. This just didn't happen to tavern maids; they dreamed about it, but it never happened.
"Do you think I should pile my hair up on my head in some kind of fancy twist?" she asked softly, pulling a mop of hair off her neck.
"No, let me look at you like this a little longer." He dropped a kiss on the back of her neck. "Soon enough you'll look like the rest. Now come. We've got business to attend to."
Cassie rested her hand on the knob of The Patriot's door, taking a deep breath. She had asked Devon to give her a moment alone with the proprietor first, to make her explanation. As silly as it seemed, she felt guilty for leaving him and Molly to serve the noon crowd on their own.
"Go on in, Cassie." Devon urged, standing a few feet from her.
Giving the door a shove, she stepped into the dimly lit public room and made her way to the opposite side. The Patriot was filled with late afternoon drinkers and travelers alike. Men laughed and argued, their voices mingling with the smoke of the room until all was a blur to Cassie's sense. "Master George." She laid a hand on his bare arm. "George, I—"
George swung around, a platter of roast duck in each hand. "By God, girl, where have you—" He stopped in midsentence, letting out a low whistle. He wouldn't have recognized his own serving girl in this fine gown and hat if he'd not seen the flaming red hair. "Looks like you made out just fine at the fair, after all." He slid the platters onto the wooden counter, wiping his hands on the apron tied about his round middle. "Got something to say to me, have you?" The corners of his faded blue eyes wrinkled with concern. "Not in any trouble?"
Cassie took a deep breath. "My husband will pay you for my remaining year of indenture, George." She had no master now—she was the wife of a wealthy colonial officer. "I'm sorry I didn't get back sooner to tell you."
"Husband is it, now. Are you sure it's legal?" He grabbed a tankard of ale off the counter and took a sip. "You know there're men who'll—"
She shook her head. "Have no fear, it's legal enough. Reverend Alm spoke the words." Her eyes met his and she lowered her voice. "You'll let me go, won't you?"
"Good God a'mercy!" Molly shouted from across the public room. "Look what the cat drug in." She raced across the hardwood floor, splashing ale in every direction. "You lucky biscuit! Got someone to set you up in housekeeping, did you?" She reached out to stroke the sleeve of Cassie's brocade gown."'Course I've had many a gentleman to offer, it's just I'm not that kind of—"
"Devon Marsh took me to wife with book and papers last night."
Molly's mouth dropped open and she stuttered, trying to speak. "The dark-haired gent . . . he married you?" Surprisingly to Cassie, there was no malice in her voice. The maid was just shocked beyond words.
"I did." Devon spoke up, coming from behind to rest a hand possessively on his wife's waist. "Now if you don't mind, sir"—he directed his words to George— "I'd like to retire to the rear to settle the matter." Releasing Cassie, he followed the tavern keeper, calling over his shoulder to her. "Get your things. I'll meet you in the carriage."
The moment Devon disappeared behind the curtain, Molly gave a squeal of delight, pinching Cassie in the arm. "I can't believe it! Cassie O'Flynn has done caught herself a gentleman!" She followed her friend through the back and up the staircase to the attic. "Who'd 'ave thought you'd ever manage it?"
Cassie remained silent, unsure of what to say. Pulling a pillowcase off her pillow tick, she began to throw her few belongings into it.
Molly flopped herself onto the rope bed. "Well, aren't you going to say something, or don't fine ladies speak to barmaids, even if they was barmaids just a few hours ago?"
Cassie shrugged. "Nothing to say. I love Devon, and he loves me." She wrapped her precious hand mirror in her spare shift and eased it into the pillowcase. "I'll not be needing these." She held up her Sunday-best crinolines. "Would you like them, Molly? Just bought them last Hallow's Eve."
Molly's hand snaked out to take the ruffled undergarments. "I can't believe you're leaving us. I thought we'd always be together, you and I." She looked up at Cassie wistfully. "What'll I do without ye?"
Cassie clutched her pillowcase in her hands. "You want to know the truth?" She went on, not giving Molly a chance to speak. "Times are going to be hard here, shortly. If I was a girl like you, good-hearted, but not real bright, I'd find myself a nice older man to marry me." She sat down on the bed beside her.
"There's plenty of them that come in here every night, lonely coopers, smithies. Why, if you're real sweet, you might just catch yourself a squire's son." She patted Molly's hand. "But remember, you never get something for nothing. If you set your eyes on a man, and he agrees to take you as a wife, you've got to be willing to be a good wife to him. You've got to accept your lot and be happy with what you've got."
"Is that what you did, Cassie? Set your eyes on that gentleman?"
Cassie got up to go. "Nope. I'd never have dared." She smiled. "Devon says it was all in the stars. I had little to do with it."
Heading down the stairs, Cassie heard Molly shout to her. "Be happy, Cassie O'Flynn."
Cassie took one determined step at a time. "I intend to." she answered. "I intend to." she finished to herself.
Devon sat on the edge of the carriage seat, reins in hand. He was a happy man this afternoon, a man with a purpose to his life. It was difficult to believe that only a few days ago, he had never heard of Cassie O'Flynn. Now she was his wife.
He smiled crookedly, leaning back against the seat. God, but she was a beauty, with all that wild red hair. But she was smart, too, and that's what had caught his attention. She had sense about her; something he didn't see often in the daughters and wives of his business associates. No, Cassie was a gem, he laughed to himself. She was probably a little crude for his mother's taste, but she had a hell of a lot more spirit than Lady Anne would ever have. Cassie would make a good wife for him, and she would be a good mistress to Marshview. Nothing would get to her, not a stolen bale of tobacco, not one surly servant. And someday there'd be children. Red-haired sons and daughters flashed through Devon's head . . . .
But for now, it was all a dream. They'd have nothing if they lost the war. The English would confiscate everything his father had worked for. Devon scowled darkly. Damn the greedy King and his Parliament! Why couldn't they have just left the Colonies alone? The Crown had taxed them until they had been left no choice but to revolt. At first the Continental Congress had asked only for what was rightfully theirs. Their "Olive Branch Petition" had spelled out their grievances and what they considered their rights as faithful subjects. The Crown's response to that petition had left the Colonies with no other choice but to declare their independence. "May King George burn in hell." Devon mumbled beneath his breath.
"What face is this?" Cassie called, breaking his reverie. "What? Have you changed your mind? Or did my old Master George strike a hard bargain?" She adjusted the round felt hat with the dyed ostrich plumes that had slipped over one ear.
Devon swung down easily from the carriage to hand Cassie up. "The war. I'd give anything to just make it go away. I want to stay here. I want to plant my crops, oversee Marshview. I want to be here with you."
Cassie shook her head. "So why do you fight? The King'll not grant your freedom from the Crown. The Colonies are far too profitable, too many coins crossing that ocean." She grabbed the side of the two-seater carriage as it lurched off. "The soldiers keep coming. I know what's going on up north there. There's too many of them, Devon. They're going to slaughter that pathetic army of Washington's."
Devon turned to his wife as he rounded the corner of the Green, passing the Court House. "It's good to know my wife has confidence in me and my ability to defend her." He lifted an eyebrow,
a scowl on his face.
"'S not a matter of confidence in ye. The King's men are trained to fight. You colonials are planters, merchants, not soldiers. King George's hired Hessians are the pride of Europe. Your farmers are more at home with a pitchfork than they are with a Brown Bess and you haven't the provisions to last one winter." She leaned back against the horsehair seat. "You'll lose your land and your lives. And do you think your wives and children will be the better for it?"
"Cassie." Devon let out an exasperated sigh. "Have you no understanding at all of why we came to the Colonies? If you think this is such a terrible place, why did you sell yourself to cross the ocean to come here?" He gripped the leather reins tightly, his jaw set.
"I'll have you putting no words in my mouth. The Colonies are a fine place; I came for the adventure of it and because I had nothing across that ocean. But I am content with what I found here, and I pay that bloody King's price. Don't you know there's a price for everything?" She crossed her arms with resignation. "I don't ask for the impossible."
"You can't be content." Devon pounded the seat with a fist. "The King and his Parliament ask for more and more each year. They'll tax the life out of us, take all we've worked for, what men have died for." Suddenly, he pulled up on the reins, bringing the carriage to a stop in the middle of the brick-paved street. "You have a right to your own opinions, but I'll not have you going against me, Cassie. You're my wife, and I must have your loyalty." He looked away for a moment. He didn't want to be too harsh on her, or to accuse her of something she would never consider, but he had to make her understand here and now. "There are already spies here and about, gathering information for the English. You must support me, and you must be for us . . . or at least not against us." His dark eyes met hers.
Cassie held him in the depths of her sea-green eyes for a moment, and then spoke softly. "Heed my words, husband. I would never betray you, or your cause. What I think is of no matter. If you say you are for freedom of the Colonies, then I am for freedom. If you say we are for green sea-monsters, then I am for green sea-monsters." She covered his hand, which rested on the seat, with her own. "I have pledged my love and my life to you. It makes no difference to me who you fight for, if fight you must."
"But it should make a difference!" Devon withdrew his. hand, making a clicking sound between his teeth. "Get up." he called to the horses. "I know you would never betray me, Cassie. But I must tell you, I would never give in to your beliefs just because they were yours. I could only fight for what I believe."
"Man has been fighting since the beginnings of time." Her mood turned thoughtful. "I think that after a while, women no longer see sides."
Together, the two rode in silence, both deep in their own thoughts until Devon brought the carriage to stop in front of a row of brick-and-frame shops. "Wait here, I'll only be a moment. I've got to pick up a new coat from the tailor." He swung easily to the ground and hitched the pair of horses to an iron post. Giving her a wink, he started down the brick wall.
Cassie leaned against the seat of the carriage, folding her hands on her lap as she watched Devon stroll across the street. She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. A handsomer man she'd never seen. Her hand went to her left breast. It was the oddest thing. . . just looking at him made her heart pound faster, her breath short. How could a man hold such a spell over me, she mused, watching his slight swagger as he stopped at a door and disappeared inside. Who would have ever thought Cassie O'Flynn would be mooning over a man, a soldier no less? She laughed aloud in disbelief and the horses pranced in their traces, their ears twitching at the sound of her voice.
"Cassie, you've got to hurry." Devon stood in front of the window, adjusting his cambric neck cloth. "We're going to be late."
Cassie stared into the mirror, studying herself from every angle. Devon had borrowed yet another gown from his sister Corinna, a gown suitable for evening dining, he had told her. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection in the mirror. She was caught between being thrilled to be bedecked in such fine array and thinking the whole thing was rather foolish. How many dresses did one person need in a day? Morning gowns, riding outfits, day dress, evening wear? Only a day ago she had owned only two outfits, one for Sunday best, and one for working. What more did a girl need?
"Do you like the gown?" Devon shrugged on a vest bound with silver lace. "The dressmaker is coming tomorrow. Maybe she could make you one just like it. I'm sure Corinna wouldn't mind." He watched her spin in a circle in front of the mirror as if she were a small child, dressed in her first lady's gown. The striped brocade with a running vine pattern made her look taller, more slender. Green is definitely her color, he thought with pride. His sisters, who had always been so proud of their handsome features, couldn't hold a candle to his wife.
Cassie laughed. "I may not know much about this ladying, but your sister will not thank me for having a gown made just like hers! And you think you know about women." She chuckled again at the thought of the two of them walking down the Marshview's grand staircase like twin partridges. Taking a silver-handled hairbrush in her hand, she began to brush her long tresses." I 'll be ready by the time you get all that finery on." She pointed to the frockcoat and silk stockings still lying on the bed.
"Not nervous, are you?" Devon perched himself on the high bed to roll his stockings.
"Of course I am. I don't know how to act with people such as them. I don't know what to say. I don't speak the same fancy words you do ." She dropped the brush on the sideboard and came to him.
"Don't worry. Just be yourself. I'll get you a tutor to help you with your speech, if you like." He slipped his feet into buckled shoes and stood to put his arms in the sleeves of the coat she held for hi m. "How about a kiss?" He leaned to brush his lips against hers, inhaling the heady scent that clung to her hair.
Cassie stood on her toes, pressing her palms on his chest to accept his warm mouth. "Let's go before I start removing these for you." She tugged on his coat playfully.
He put out his arm. "Shall we go then, Mistress Marsh?"
Cassie curtsied, the way she'd seen ladies of the gentry do on the street . "Indeed, Master Marsh."
Chapter Seven
Cassie sat staring at the hand-painted china plate in front of her, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her first evening with Devon's family was not going well. First they had met in one of the twin parlors for a drink. In they had filed, one by one, staring with their little beady eyes. The whole family was here, even the four married sisters and their families. Everyone was here to see Devon's new wife, and she was convinced they were determined, not to like her.
First there had been the snide little comments about the gown she was wearing. The eldest sister, Martha, had recognized it as Corinna's dress and had immediately prompted a string of questions, forcing Cassie to admit she had no gowns. Then there had been the whispering between the sisters about this morning's episode in the hall. Little Margaret, plump as a stuffed pigeon, had wasted no time in giving a full account of Cassie's mad dash, naked, down the hall. And, of course, everyone was in a dither, trying to find out where she had come from, without coming right out and asking. Then there had been Devon's mother. She had been the worst of all with her condemning silence.
"So, Cassie." William Marsh cleared his throat, leaning back so the servant could place a bowl of soup in front of him. "Devon tells me your father was a soldier."
Cassie looked up, thankful to have something to say.
"Yes, sir." She beamed. "Damned good one, too." The moment the words slipped from her mouth, she knew she'd made a mistake. She recalled something Devon had said about ladies cursing. Well, damn it! she thought to herself, picking up a spoon. I'm not a lady, but I can learn to be one if they'll just give me a chance. She deliberately ignored the gasps of protest, and dipped her spoon into the hot soup that had been placed in front of her.
Devon lowered his eyes, slipping his napkin into his lap. They were being unfair to her. They w
eren't giving her a chance and he was becoming angrier by the moment. Taking his spoon in hand, he flashed Cassie a smile, giving her a slight nod. "It's all right." he mouthed.
Cassie shot him a harsh glance and returned her concentration to her soup. What did she care what his family thought of her anyway? Devon's furlough would soon be up. They'd be on their way to New Jersey and she'd be rid of the Marshes.
Slowly the dinner progressed, with Cassie getting angrier with each course of the meal. Why wasn't Devon defending her? Why did he let them lead her into making a fool of herself again and again? How was she supposed to know that you didn't tell someone how to amputate a leg at the dining table?
"These stories are all rather"—Devon's sister Mary smiled, showing dark, broken teeth—"intriguing, but tell us, how did you come to be in the Colonies? It sounds as if you led quite the interesting life there in Europe."
Cassie swallowed her mouthful of pear tart and laid down her fork, just as she had seen the others do before they spoke. "Thought you'd never ask." Her voice was thick with sarcasm. "Would you like to tell them, or should I?" She looked up at Devon through angry green eyes.
"Cassie, please . . ." He started to get up from the chair. He had been fooling himself to think this was going to be easy, to think they would accept her with open arms. But she had to give them a chance, too. This was all quite a shock to them. And he loved them, too.
"Have a seat." Cassie wiped her mouth with her linen napkin, laying it neatly beside her plate. She could play this game of silly eating rules as well as they could. "I don't need your help, thank you." She turned her stormy eyes to Mary. "I sold myself into indenture to pay my passage to Annapolis. My father had given me the money, he'd saved for it for years to give me the opportunity for a better life, but I gave most of the money to a friend whose man had been killed on the line. She had four babes and another on the way and not a pence to her name.
"In Annapolis I was sold on the block to George Hamilton, owner of The Patriot tavern on your Green. I've been serving ale there for near three years." She pushed back her chair, getting gracefully to her feet. She wanted to tell them what she thought of their hospitality. She wanted to holler and shout at them for being so condemning. She wanted to ask them how they could love their son so much, yet be so intolerant of the woman he had declared his love for. But she wouldn't lower herself to them. Instead, she walked calmly out of the wallpapered dining room, her head held high, and started up the steps.
The Officer's Desire Page 7
