A Matter of Honor

by Kit Tunstall

  She examined the two masts, searching for any sign of a Jolly Roger. “Was that your pirate ship?” she asked in a whisper.

  He laughed. “Nay. She was Fury, the fastest little pinnace you could imagine.”

  “You sound melancholy. Do you miss the life of a buccaneer?”

  Alex shrugged. “Piracy is dangerous business and has fallen out of favor. I shall admit I miss the excitement at times, but it was not worth the risks. There are too many eager sailors with too much authority waiting with cannons for the careless or unlucky to make it a worthwhile enterprise.”

  “So, tomorrow's voyage is not to plunder?” She held her breath.

  He scowled at her. “I have told you I am reformed.” His hand fell on her shoulder. “When did you learn of my trip?”

  “Elizabeth paid a visit this morning. She is most distraught, m'lord.”

  “Why?”

  Rebecca turned from the picture to face him. “Rumors of my father's deal with Fenwick have surfaced in London. The creditors tore our fortunes asunder and displaced Mama and Clarise from their home. She is coming to Boston to live.”

  He nodded. “Your sister is concerned about repercussions among society?”

  “Yes.” Rebecca's lips trembled. “I fear them too. Already I would be the subject of rumor.” She touched her stomach. “Now it shall be unendurable.” To her surprise, he took her in his arms.

  “I wish I could spare you the pain and shame, Rebecca, but I cannot.”

  “Take me with you.”

  He pulled away to look down at her. “Pardon?”

  “May I come with you on your trip?”

  “Nay.”

  She glared up at him. “Why not? If you are doing nothing contrary to the law, why can I not accompany you?”

  “It would be too dangerous.” His mouth firmed. “The waters are not safe from pirates even in this modern age, despite the risks to them—as you well know. I cannot needlessly endanger you or our child.”

  She clutched a handful of his tan morning coat. “I do not wish to remain behind and face the wagging tongues.”

  “They can only harm you if you allow them to. The blade of a villain does real damage.”

  Rebecca toyed with the top self-covered button of his jacket, where the tails of his simple cravat disappeared. “You would protect me.”

  “No, Rebecca. I cannot risk my most precious of treasures.”

  She looked up at him with her eyes gleaming. “Truly?”

  “Aye. You bear my son.” His expression closed. “Now, I shall see you home.”

  She pulled away from him, desperate to hide her moist eyes. “There is no need to tear yourself away. Henry is waiting for me.” She hurried from the office, slamming the door behind her. She was glad he was leaving for—however long he would be gone. It would spare her the pain of his rejection for a few weeks. Perhaps it would even give her enough time to rein in her foolish heart and kill any feelings of affection for him once and for all.

  Chapter 15

  After a long day locked away in her room, crying her eyes to red pools, Rebecca found solace in a troubled sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly, dreaming of long rows of her peers lined up and hurling insults at her. When Alex touched her shoulder, she first thought it was part of the dream and tried to throw off his hand.

  “Shhh, Rebecca.” His voice was a breath across her cheek as he leaned forward to kiss her.

  Her eyes blinked open, but she felt trapped in the remnants of the nightmare. For a moment, she was certain they were back on the Margaret. Only the heavy weight of the ring on her finger reminded her of where she was and with whom. “Alex?”

  “I am here.”

  Her eyes widened as she felt him pushing up her nightdress to stroke her thigh. “We must speak…” She trailed off, biting hard on her lip as he stroked the outside of her pussy.

  “About what, wife?”

  “Your trip.” She sighed as he slipped a finger inside her, slowly tracing circles around her clitoris. Rebecca reached down to push his hand away so she could think, but he caught it with his other one and trapped it between their bodies. “You cannot seduce me into forgetting you are leaving.”

  He hovered above her, so close their lips were a breath away. “Of course not, love.” He lowered his head, barely pressing their lips together as his finger grew bolder. “Is it wrong to make love to my wife?” he asked as he lifted his head.

  She bit back a yawn. “Alex, what will—?” His mouth stole the remainder of her question, as he reclaimed her lips. Rebecca's other hand moved from the bed to tangle in his hair. She tugged forcefully, hoping to induce him to lift his head. Instead, he retaliated by biting firmly on her tongue, making her cry out—more from shock than any real pain.

  He ignored her garbled protests, swallowing them with his open mouth as his tongue swept across hers, before exploring deeper recesses. Another had joined his audacious finger, and they insistently pushed at her entrance, entering an inch or two before retreating, only to repeat the teasing process again.

  Despite her resolve, Rebecca felt her limbs grow heavy as the tingling in her thighs rose higher to encompass her belly, then her breasts. Her hips arched, pushing her pussy more fully against his hand, and a moan tore from her lips as he pushed the palm of his hand firmly against her sex, causing her lower body to jerk. She gave one more feeble push against his shoulder before surrendering to his questing tongue and fingers.

  A climax washed over her, making her legs tremble and her thighs close reflexively around his hand. She pushed her heels into the bed, thrusting against him again and again, until her climax peaked, and her pounding heart slowed gradually.

  Rebecca frowned as he moved away from her. She watched as he shed his clothes before rejoining her. To her surprise, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her close to him, securing her with an arm across her waist. “M'lord?”

  “Yes, Rebecca?”

  “Are you not—?” She licked her lips. “What of your pleasures?”

  He sounded amused when he answered. “You are tired, as am I. I am content for now.” He began to rub her back in slow, gentle circles. The warmth of his hand penetrated the thin linen of her nightdress. “You please me.”

  She struggled to find a shred of her earlier anger with him, going so far as to remind herself of his unthinkingly cruel words. Instead, all she felt was hurt at his lack of affection for her.

  Rather than risk another storm of weeping, she forced her thoughts from their earlier encounter and his forthcoming trip. Once more, she drifted off to sleep, comforted by his arm around her. She felt cosseted in his embrace, and though she knew it was an illusion, it was comforting nonetheless.

  * * * * *

  Rebecca awoke to sunshine streaming through the windows, illuminating a scant amount of dust particles dancing through the air. She shivered and pulled the covers tighter around her. She made herself look at the spot beside her, unsurprised to find it empty. Once again, the imprint of his head was the only evidence he had lain with her last night.

  Reluctantly, she forced herself to sit up, tucking the blanket to her neck. Perhaps Georgina had been lurking at the doorway, awaiting sounds of movement, for she knocked and entered before Rebecca had even settled into the pillows stacked against the headboard. “Good morning, Georgina.”

  “M'lady.” She held up a silver salver laden with morning tea. “Cook included those biscuits you liked so much yesterday.”

  Rebecca waved to the bedside table. She watched as Georgina poured tea into the china cup and handed it to her. She stirred it in a desultory fashion, watching the swirls around the small silver spoon. “Has he gone?”

  “Madam?”

  “Has the master left for his trip?”

  “Aye, m'lady. Lord Hanover left before dawn.”

  She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat before asking, “Do you know when he shall return?”

  Georgina shook her head and reached i
nto the pocket of her plain brown dress. “The master left this for you, mistress.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca set aside her teacup and saucer to accept the letter. She broke the wax seal with a trembling finger and unfolded the cream stationary to reveal his neat black lettering.

  Rebecca,

  I know you are angry at being left behind, but my business will take me to unsavory places. I shall return from Jamaica within a month, at the latest. Refuse any invitations in my absence. We will face the jackals of society together upon my return.

  Yours,

  Alex

  She gave Georgina a shaky smile. “You may go now.”

  “Will you be needing anything, m'lady? The coach, perhaps?”

  “Nay, I shall stay in today. If I receive any visitors besides Elizabeth Gallow, you are to tell them I am indisposed. Take their cards and let them know I shall call on them when I feel stronger.”

  Georgina curtsied. “Yes, m'lady.”

  Once she had gone, Rebecca took the teacup from the table and sipped at the hot brew. She looked down at the letter in her hand and sighed. What was he doing in Jamaica, and why hadn’t he told her more than his location? Was he telling her the truth, or was the casually imparted information a lie meant to pacify her?

  Her gaze fell to the pillow beside her, and she sighed again. What would she do with herself for the next month? It would be a good time to cure herself of the persistent infatuation she had for her husband. She sighed once more, admitting to herself that it was more than infatuation, and would not be easily quashed.

  Chapter 16

  Rebecca looked up from the book of fashion plates at the sounds of commotion coming from the hallway. Within seconds, the study door burst open to reveal an excited Philip. His face was flushed, and he wore no cravat around his neck. It was well after midnight, so his visit could mean only one thing. “Is Elizabeth having the baby?”

  “Yes. She is asking for you.”

  She nodded her head and followed him back to the entrance, not bothering to change from the yellow satin dinner dress she still wore. Bentley assisted her with a warm velvet cloak lined with wool, and she secured the white bonnet he had thrust into her hands as they hurried into the night air to the waiting carriage.

  Once seated, she eyed Philip carefully, noting his forehead was beaded with perspiration, and his hands shook. “How is Elizabeth?”

  His smile was shaky, and he seemed to have forgotten how to lift the left side of his mouth. “She is enduring well. The physician sent me from the chambers because he said I was a nuisance.”

  She patted his hand, noting he hadn't bothered with gloves on his way from the Gallow home. “The doctor is quite competent, Philip.”

  He ran a hand through his dark hair, which looked as if he had done that more than once this evening. “I know, but I cannot help but worry.”

  She nodded. “I too am worried.” Would it be awful? She knew nothing of childbirth, and had hoped to keep it that way until her own child arrived. “Elizabeth shall be fine, as will your babe.”

  He sighed. “Yes.”

  Rebecca searched for a means of diverting his thoughts. “Have you been overly burdened with gossip?”

  His eyes slid from hers. “We have not gone out in three weeks.”

  “How is it for you when dealing with your business affairs?”

  Philip’s gaze remained focused on the curtain covering the window. “The talk will fade.” His mouth was firm. “When is Lord Hanover returning?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “He said at most a month. It has not yet been that long.” It had been precisely twenty days since his departure. Each one had crawled by so slowly that she thought she might go mad from waiting.

  Once word of their marriage had spread, invitations flooded their home, but so far, she had refused each one, along with the explanation that her husband was away on business. “I am concerned.”

  “Do not be overly worried. I suspect he is having some troubles at his sugar plantation.”

  Rebecca's brow furrowed. “What sort of trouble?”

  “The Maroons are raiding many of the local plantations, stealing supplies, recruiting the other slaves for their militia force, and, in general, being a bother.”

  “Who are the Maroons?”

  “A band of freedom fighters.” He snorted. “Mostly runaway slaves, chafing at the bit.”

  “I see. What has this to do with Alex?”

  “There has been talk of emancipating the slaves of Jamaica. It has them riled up and resisting their masters.” Philip sighed. “The day of your marriage, Lord Hanover mentioned he would soon be forced to deal with the matter.”

  Relief washed over Rebecca at the confirmation that her husband was not pirating, and he hadn’t lied to her. Rather, he was dealing with a rebellion which seemed just as dangerous, but unlikely to land him in prison or swinging from the gallows.

  She looked out the window as the carriage swung around a corner. “We are here.”

  Philip clambered from the carriage and rushed forward a few feet before spinning around to return to the carriage. He assisted Rebecca to the ground, blushing profusely. “Forgive my lapse of manners.”

  She smiled. “I understand.”

  When they entered the townhouse, Philip reluctantly closeted himself in the study while Rebecca made her way upstairs. She knocked on the door and was admitted by Nora. “How is Elizabeth?” she asked as she entered and removed her bonnet and cloak.

  “Resting. The physician says she is near delivery and should sleep, if possible.”

  Rebecca walked forward to touch her sister's sweaty brow. The doctor stood near the bed, wiping his hands on a white cloth. He appeared very young, with curly, dark hair and buckteeth, but he wore a studious expression. “Doctor?”

  “You are Lady Gallow's sister?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “She wanted you here.” A chuckle came from him. “M'lady insisted I was not to deliver the baby until you arrived. She refused to accept I had no control over that.”

  Rebecca gave him a small smile, but was too concerned over her sister's pallor to muster even a polite laugh. “How is she?”

  “Doing well. She has been laboring since early afternoon, but her time draws near. I plan to wake her in a few minutes if a contraction does not do so beforehand.”

  Rebecca sat in a straight chair by the bed, lifting her sister's hand. Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled down at her. “Soon you shall be a mother,” she said softly.

  “About bloody time,” Elizabeth slurred.

  Rebecca gasped at her sister's language. She sneaked a peek at the doctor, but he seemed unfazed. Nora had departed, so there was no one else to be outraged. With a small shrug, she shifted in the chair. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired. Does this never end?”

  The doctor lifted her other hand, feeling her wrist. “You are ready to give birth, m'lady. Do you feel up to the task?”

  “Yes.”

  Rebecca held her hand as Elizabeth grunted, pushed, and cursed her way through the next thirty minutes. The doctor remained calm, seeming to be accustomed to such language flowing from the mouths of ladies.

  Rebecca got over her embarrassment as fear replaced it. She watched her sister endure each pain. Her face grew red, and her eyes bulged. Elizabeth looked like she was enduring every torture the fiery pits of Hell could throw at her.

  How would she survive the preceding months before her child's birth, knowing what was to come? She should have refused Elizabeth's request, no matter how much it would have hurt her sister. She quickly pushed away that selfish thought.

  “One more great push, m'lady.”

  With a small scream, Elizabeth bore down and pushed her son out into the world. His cry was lusty as the doctor lifted him for their inspection. “Your husband will surely be pleased, Lady Gallow. A fine son.”

  Tears streamed down Elizabeth's face as she reached for him. “Is he
not beautiful, sister?”

  Rebecca's nose wrinkled slightly. Young Master Gallow was covered with blood and slime. His head was oddly shaped, and he had a flat, bulbous nose. What skin she could see under the blood was bright red and grainy-looking. Beautiful was not her first choice of words, but she would never knowingly wipe that proud expression from Elizabeth's face. “Very much so. You are lucky.”

  “Please tell Philip. Send him up.”

  “M'lady,” the doctor protested. “I have not finished here yet.”

  She waved her hand at him. “You shall do so while my sister fetches my husband. He has been too far from me for too long.”

  The doctor sighed and returned to his work without comment as Rebecca went to tell her brother-in-law the happy news.

  Her stomach knotted with anxiety as she remembered Elizabeth's harrowing ordeal. For the first time, she fervently wished there was no baby. That thought was fleeting, and she felt guilty for having it. Remembering her sister's expression when she first gazed at her baby told her it was worth any amount of pain.

  * * * * *

  Rebecca planned to take her leave several hours later. She was exhausted and longed only for her own bed. Elizabeth and Philip were curled together on the bed, basking in the glow of their son, who lay between them. They made an odd pair—her in a fresh nightdress, and he in knee breeches and a white shirt with billowing sleeves, minus the waistcoat and jacket.

  She felt embarrassed to be around her brother-in-law in such a state of dishabille, and she carefully averted her eyes as she approached the bed. “I am leaving now.”

  Elizabeth looked up from baby Andrew. “You should stay, Rebecca. It is quite late.”

  “I would rather be in my own bed.” She touched her sister's foot. “I am sleepy and not in the best of moods.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Philip will see you home.”

  She shook her head. “There is no need. You deserve some time together now.”

  Her sister sighed. “Very well. We shall see you at the christening, in any event.”

  “The christening?”