Silver Deceptions

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “We have but a moment,” he murmured in her ear. “As soon as the interlude is over and the next act begins, we have to leave before someone figures out that you’re not at all peeved to see me. I’ve got a coach waiting to take you to an inn on the outskirts of London. I’ll meet you there in my own coach and then we’ll set out for my estate at Kent. But we mustn’t be seen together until then. I wouldn’t have all your machinations go for naught.”

  She pulled back. “I’m sorry I had to make you sound so pathetic, but I didn’t want them to realize I was trying to save you. Speaking of which, how on earth did you get here?”

  He opened the door a crack and peeked out to see if the interlude was over yet. “They released me this afternoon, so of course I went looking for you and finally ended up here. Charity saw me enter and told me I’d best hide in one of the boxes or I’d ruin everything. Of course, she didn’t explain what I’d be ruining, or I’d have put a stop to it. You shouldn’t have risked yourself like that, dearling.”

  “Yes, yes,” she muttered impatiently, “but how did you get released?”

  He smiled. “As I told you, His Majesty could hardly condemn me on such little evidence. He did make one suggestion, however, to squelch any talk that might arise.”

  “What?” she whispered.

  Colin’s eyes twinkled. “He suggested I leave England for a while, at least a few years. He pointed out that the colonies would be a likely place for my talents.”

  “You know His Majesty won’t expect that of you now. You can stay if you like.”

  His expression grew sober. “I don’t want to stay. Do you wish to stay, my love? Does the theater mean that much to you?”

  She managed a shaky laugh. “You may have been given a suggestion, but I was given a command. The king has ordered that I be dismissed from the company.”

  “Whose idea was that?” he asked, glowering.

  “Buckingham’s. Who else?”

  Colin regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Did Buckingham really give you money to keep silent or were you making that up?”

  “Oh no. He really sent me a bag of gold.” She grinned. “And I really bought this gown with it, too.”

  “Wonderful.” He chuckled. “That part had everyone in the theater silently cheering, I’m sure. Most of them hate Buckingham.”

  “True, but now they hate me more. I’ll be considered the worst harlot imaginable, ruthless and scheming to have my hallowed father imprisoned. I suppose that’s mostly true anyway, even if I thought I had good reason for it.”

  Colin clasped her chin and stared into her eyes. “You just did a very noble thing. I know it, and so do your friends. No one else matters.”

  She swallowed. “I didn’t do it solely for my father. I thought I was doing it for you, too.”

  “I know.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “That makes it no less noble. You gave up your vengeance for me. That means more to me than you can ever imagine.”

  “Yes, but now you’ve been made to look a fool for being my lover.”

  “All I care about is having the woman I love beside me when I set off for my new home.” His jaw tightened. “Can I count on that?”

  She stared up at him. He still wanted her. Despite all that had happened, he still wanted her. Sweet Mary, what had she done to deserve such a man?

  At her hesitation, he said, “I know I’ve been a rogue in the past, but—”

  “Hush,” she murmured, putting a finger to his lips. “Surely you know I love you. But you must be mad to want a woman of such scandalous reputation as I.”

  “Where we’re going, no one will care, dearling. Let me set you straight on this. I love you. If I wanted to live in England, I would, and I’d marry you all the same. I’d say to hell with all the naysayers, as I have ever since my father first brought me here. We’d simply be the most scandalous couple in London.”

  His voice deepened. “But I want to marry you and go to a place where you and I can begin again, where no one knows or cares that we’re bastards, where there are no memories of hangings to torment you and no court manipulations to disturb me. I want to own my soul again. Will you go with me?”

  How could she resist him when he offered her something she’d wanted all her life? A place where she could be herself, where the one person she cared about knew her tormented past and didn’t care. A place where she could love and be loved.

  A smile spread over her face. It was Annabelle, only Annabelle, who gave the answer.

  “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, Colin Jeffreys.” Her love for him swelled with sweet delight within her. “Yes, my love, I’ll go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “A brave world, Sir, full of religion, knavery, and change: we shall shortly see better days.”

  —Aphra Behn, The Roundheads, Act 1, Sc.1

  Annabelle and Colin stood on the deck of one of Sir John’s ships, waiting to set sail. Sir John and Charity had liked the idea of starting afresh in the colonies, so they, too, had decided to make the trip. They’d married only a week ago, not long after Colin and Annabelle’s quiet private wedding at his estate. Sir John and Charity were already below, settling into their quarters.

  But Annabelle had wanted to watch the ship leave, to say goodbye to England. No, her memories weren’t all fond, but they were her memories, after all. They had made her what she was, and she wouldn’t go without making some sort of peace with them.

  “Shall you miss the theater very much?” Colin asked softly, pulling her against him.

  She thought of the months she’d spent treading the boards. “I don’t know. I did enjoy the time I actually spent onstage, the experience of holding people in thrall.” She sighed. “But once I left the stage, I was never allowed to be myself. I always had to fend off advances and think up sharp retorts for the wits.”

  “It can be a hard place, I suppose.”

  “For a woman, it can.” She paused. “I think . . . I think perhaps the theater isn’t ready for women yet. I don’t think a woman with any character or depth of feeling will truly enjoy treading the boards until she’s allowed the same freedom to work that the actors have.”

  “And the same respect?”

  She nodded and clutched him tight. Colin was completely different from any man she’d ever known. He took it for granted that women should have some privileges. He seemed to guess her thoughts before she spoke them. It was a constant amazement to her.

  Staring up into the sky, she thanked God for this man whom she loved with every breath in her body. Then she realized that she’d just said a prayer—her first since God had abandoned her mother to the gallows. She watched the seagulls dipping toward the ship and felt the comfort of Colin’s close embrace. Yes, God had chosen not to save her mother. Yet he’d given her this other wonderful gift, this caring, loving man. A tear slipped from her eye. Perhaps it was time to put her anger toward God aside as well.

  Her throat tightened as she laid her head on Colin’s chest. Aye, God had been watching out for her all this time. He’d given her Colin. How could she hate him after that?

  As peace stole over her, she stood in Colin’s embrace, awaiting the ship’s departure. Suddenly she felt him tense.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Your father.”

  Startled, she searched the docks, her heart beginning to pound when she caught sight of the balding figure walking toward the ship. “What does he want?”

  Colin shook his head as they went to greet the earl. She’d heard he’d been freed, but she hadn’t seen him since that terrible night at Colin’s house. Colin hadn’t either, although he’d told her in detail about their last encounter and her father’s statement that he’d claim her if she wished. No doubt he’d changed his mind about that after she’d gone to the king.

  Her father took Colin’s proffered hand and came on board, standing there awkwardly, looking about. Colin stood between him and Annabelle, but her father saw her anyway
and stiffened a little.

  “I hear you’re taking my daughter off to the colonies,” he muttered to Colin, though his watery eyes stayed fixed on her face.

  In the bright light of day he looked older. Strangely enough, she pitied him. Colin had told her that he had no family, no heirs, only his political aspirations to keep him company. Such a lonely life he must lead.

  She met his inquisitive stare without flinching.

  “I’m taking my wife to the colonies,” Colin retorted. “And I’d thank you not to do anything to upset her.”

  “It’s all right, Colin,” Annabelle said. “I wish to speak with him a moment.”

  At her pleading expression, Colin nodded reluctantly and stepped aside. Her father surveyed her from head to toe, seeming pleased by her demure gown.

  “Sir,” she said, her throat tight. She couldn’t call him “Father.” “I would like to know something. Before she died, my mother said that you were the only man she’d ever loved. Did you perchance love her, too? At least a little?”

  She had to know, perhaps because Mother had found so little love in her life. Or perhaps because knowing that he and Mother had conceived her in love would make everything else bearable.

  His eyes misted over, and his broad hand gripped the top of his cane. “If I’ve ever truly loved anyone, it was your mother. She was a sweet, giving woman, and I truly hated leaving her behind.”

  Annabelle swallowed, unable to say anything.

  “Annabelle,” he continued, astonishing her by using her name for the first time, “if I’d known about you, I believe I would have gone back.” He began to nod. “Aye, I do believe I would have.”

  Tears welled in her eyes—of grief, of pain for lost chances, and yes, even of happiness. “I’m sorry I went to the king about the poem,” she whispered, and suddenly she knew this was what she’d been waiting for, the chance to find some sort of absolution.

  He gave her a trembling smile. “I’m not. For many years, I’ve lived in fear of having it be known what a coward I was. When at last it was all made public, I knew only relief. Now I can have some peace. Besides, they’ve not been as harsh toward me as I thought they might be. They pity me for my treacherous daughter and gloss over my sins. You must have painted quite a picture in your little scene at the theater.”

  Then he gave a raucous laugh. “I hear you gave Buckingham fits. It was worth a few days in the Tower to hear how my sharp-tongued daughter made a fool of that duplicitous snake before His Majesty and everyone.”

  He looked as if he might say more, then fell silent.

  An awkwardness descended upon them both. The other times they’d spoken, it had been with acid words. With all the bitterness evaporated between them, there seemed little to say. The silence was broken by the call of “All aboard!”

  He glanced about him, then fixed her with a yearning gaze. “You’ll tell me if I have grandchildren, won’t you?”

  She glanced at Colin, who smiled. Then she nodded. When her father flashed her a grateful look, she added impulsively, “And you may visit them anytime, if you wish, although I admit it will be a long  journey.”

  “I may surprise you and accept that invitation someday.” He stepped forward and, before she realized what he was doing, leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “May God keep you well, daughter.”

  As he turned to go, she caught him by the arm and stretched up to kiss his dry cheek. “And you,” she whispered through the tightness in her throat.

  He nodded, his eyes misting again, then walked back to the edge of the ship, where he was helped off by a crewman.

  Colin came to her side. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, swiping away a tear with the back of her hand. He drew her into his arms, and she laid her head against his chest, her love for him so intense she could feel it in every part of her.

  “You know, it’s odd,” she whispered, “but all this time I thought that all I wanted was to hear him say he was sorry for what he’d done, that he regretted it. He didn’t really say that even today, did he?”

  Colin remained silent, somehow knowing she expected no answer.

  “Yet I didn’t care. Because he said enough. He finally said enough.”

  “Do you wish you were staying now, so you could get to know him better?”

  She lifted her head to gaze at him. “Nay. The only person I want to know better is you.”

  A slow, secret smile crossed his face as the wind whipped his golden hair about him like a halo. Crewmen scurried around them, casting off and hoisting the sails. Then the ship slipped away from the dock, and Colin steadied her in his arms as the vessel rocked.

  He looked out at the ocean, at the sun-drenched morning, then gazed back at her, that smile still fixed on his face. “Then I can think of no better place for that than a whole new world, can you?”

  She drew his head down to hers. “I think a whole new world should just suffice, my love.”

  And as he took her lips in a kiss as dark and mysterious and alluring as the land for which they were bound, she sighed and gave herself up to a new role, the only one she’d ever truly wanted to play.

  Herself.

  Epilogue

  “Still in the paths of honour persevere,

  And not from past or present ills despair:

  For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds;

  And though a late a sure reward succeeds.”

  —William Congreve, The Mourning Bride, Act 5, Sc. 3

  Colin strode through the door of his Virginia plantation house only to have his four-year-old son Marlowe hurtle through the air to clasp him about the knees.

  “Papa, come quick!” the towheaded child cried. “Mama’s crying!”

  Colin hoisted Marlowe up into his arms and looked at him fondly, having to squelch a laugh when he saw the solemn face that still held a trace of the greasepaint his mother had been letting him wear for playing. There was no way he could explain to Marlowe that his mother was simply a little teary-eyed these days with a new baby in the house.

  So he ruffled his son’s hair instead. “It’s all right. Let’s go see if we can’t cheer Mama up.” With Marlowe riding his hip, he continued on into the drawing room, where she was undoubtedly working on the pair of leggings that Marlowe had been begging her to make so he could dress up as an Indian.

  But Annabelle wasn’t sewing. She sat in her favorite chair, a piece of paper in her hand and their two-month-old daughter sleeping in the bassinet at her feet as she wept great silent tears.

  His pulse raced as it did every time he saw her truly upset. He let Marlowe slide down his length to the ground. “What is it? What’s happened, dearling?”

  He’d forgotten that a ship had come in today bearing letters from England. What news could she have gotten that would make her look so distraught?

  She swiped the tears from her eyes as she glanced up from the letter. “My father is coming to visit.”

  It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. “Walcester? He’s actually coming here?”

  She nodded. “On a ship that left with the one that came in today, but stopped in Jamaica. He should be here in only a week.”

  With Marlowe clinging to his breeches, Colin went to sit beside her on the settee. Marlowe climbed into his lap as Colin put his arm around Annabelle’s shoulders. “Rather short notice, I’ll admit, but I don’t see the problem.”

  “You don’t see the problem?”

  “No, I don’t. Don’t you want him to come?”

  She turned her tearstained face up to his. “Oh, I don’t know. I do want him to see Marlowe and little Aphra, and that is why he says he’s coming. But . . . but the house is out of sorts, and I haven’t had the new curtains done yet, and everything is such a shambles!”

  Colin couldn’t prevent a hearty laugh. As she stared at him with wounded dignity, he surveyed the drawing room’s practical but attractive furnishings. He thought of Annabelle climbing out of be
d less than a week after childbirth and insisting that she couldn’t lie abed forever. Then he looked down at his son, whose mother always had time to fashion a cape for him from an old sheet or kiss his bruises . . . or feed him a rare orange.

  Love swelled up in his throat so thick he thought it might choke him. He bent to kiss her temple. “If this is a shambles, then I have to see what you would call a well-ordered house. There’s not a thing wrong with our home, dearling.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “And . . . and I’m f-fat, Colin.”

  This time he managed to contain his laughter as he scanned her trim figure. Her breasts were a little plumper from breast-feeding, and her waist a trifle thick, but she was still the loveliest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. “I see. You’ve just had a child, and your waist is what . . . two inches larger than it used to be before you got pregnant? And that makes you fat?”

  “I want him to like me,” she whispered.

  Suddenly he realized what really had her worried. She’d never before had to be with her father, and it was terrifying her.

  “Marlowe,” Colin said softly, “go tell Bessie that Papa said to give you a treat. All right?”

  Marlowe nodded and, with one last worried look at his mother, trotted off into the kitchen.

  As soon as the boy had left, Colin drew Annabelle’s head down onto his shoulder. “My love, your father would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to like you, and even then he’d have a hard time of it.”

  “I know he still thinks of me as a wanton woman.”

  “That will be put to rest the moment he sees you here.”

  “And—and he’ll never be able to forget the things I did, not just to him, but on the stage.”

  “You’re right, and that’s why he’s coming.”

  With a startled expression, she drew back to look at him.

  He rubbed a tear from her face. “He wants to see his daring, saucy daughter again, the one who braved London society to make one man take responsibility for his actions. I don’t blame him. His saucy daughter is well worth getting to know.”