A British Heiress in America (Revolutionary Women Book 1)

by Becky Lower

  Emma's smile was so wide a dimple formed in her left cheek. "We are still tired."

  Daniel rearranged the blankets and the three of them crawled under them. His arm wrapped around his girl, she wrapped hers around Georgia, and Emma nodded off again quickly. Daniel held Emma tightly. She was the reason he was living the life he led. She deserved a better life than his. She certainly deserved a better life than her mother had. She deserved a better end than her mother had.

  So, yes, he agreed with Sam. An independent way of life was worth fighting for. He might not live to enjoy the freedom, but Emma would. She’d already picked her side of the battle, naming her doll after George Washington, who’d just taken over as the leader of the American troops. He’d ask Major Longfellow if he could officially court Pippa, but didn’t expect a positive response. After all, Daniel was of the working class, even if he was employed by the British. She deserved better, and he was certain her uncle would see to it. So he’d have no recourse except to meet her in private. Maybe he could lure her with the promise of an unlimited supply of cigars.

  One way or another, he’d spend time with her and get her to divulge whatever information she’d overheard from her uncle. He owed it to the cause, and to his daughter.

  • ♥ •

  Pippa’s uncle’s home soon became overrun with soldiers coming and going at a rapid pace, all of them stopping for an introduction to the newest resident. Aunt Bernice kept the teakettle full and the conversation lively. She patted her graying curls as she assumed her role as lady of the manor. Pippa now had occasion to meet many of the men who were a part of the elite social circle of Boston, who were all jockeying for a favorable position before a formal dinner or dance. All the forced gaiety and the endless supply of floral arrangements sent to the home reminded her of the many ballrooms and parlors in London where she had held court. All Pippa wished for was a quiet afternoon to slip away and return the dress to Daniel. Maybe she’d even pay him for the use of his wife’s gown with a kiss. They hadn’t even had time for a proper farewell. And he was a fine kisser.

  She touched her bottom lip as she sat in the parlor with her aunt. “What’s on the agenda for today, Auntie?”

  Aunt Bernice wrung her hands together. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to do much of anything. Walter says we’re to stay indoors, since those nasty rebels, and especially Samuel Adams, have been at it again. He is preparing for battle.”

  Pippa’s stomach nose-dived. “The British are going to fight? They’re going to kill the colonists? Right here, in Boston?”

  “If that’s what it takes.” Bernice flapped her hand in front of her, as if it were a fan. “How I wish we were back in England.”

  For the hundredth time since he’d left her side, Pippa wondered where Daniel was. Would he and his little girl be safe if the city erupted in warfare? Her palms broke out in a sweat and she brushed the damp onto her new gown. “Have we anything to fear, if we stay indoors?”

  Bernice glanced over as Pippa chewed her bottom lip. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ve lived through several skirmishes so far, and the British have suffered little damage. Why don’t you go to your room and take a nap?”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea.” Pippa rose and gave Bernice a kiss on the cheek before she left the room. As she passed the empty library, where her uncle had set up his command post, she paused. By now, she’d seen where Uncle Walter kept his stash of cigars. A furtive glance up and down the hall assured her there was no one around, so she scurried in, opened the drawer, and drew out two cheroots.

  When she got to her room, she opened the window, lit up, and hung over the ledge as she enjoyed the tobacco. She’d blown only a few smoke rings and inhaled the fine tobacco when shots rang out on a nearby hill. The barrage of gunfire that followed made her skin erupt in gooseflesh. She’d never been anywhere close to gunfire before and now it was all around her. Even though she was in the safest place possible, she chafed at not being part of the action. She did not make a hazardous voyage to live life on the sidelines. Not anymore. Maybe she should don her boy's clothing again, sneak outside, and be part of the action. She’d weigh the pros and cons while she finished her smoke. But her rising heartbeat as she grabbed the sack with her coarse clothing sealed her fate.

  She’d sneak out while her aunt napped and go into every store that didn’t have the big ‘T’ on the door. Her aunt only shopped at the British stores and explained to Pippa the symbol meant the owners of the stores had signified their allegiance to the crown. Pippa had met way too many English since she'd landed. Word might filter back to England, to her father, through any of these acquaintances, and she was still months away from her inheritance. Besides, she was eager to meet more of the colonists who were causing such an uproar. If Daniel, Ben, Patrick and the rest of the crew aboard ship were any indication, she had set down smack-dab in the middle of the uprising. How could she sit on the sidelines when she could possibly see the storied British military in action?

  She grimaced as she bound her breasts again, but her feet bounced against the floor. This would be the most fun she’d had since Daniel deposited her at the house and left without a backwards glance.

  The back door didn’t make a sound as she held her breath and opened it. She ducked under the windows, in case Aunt Bernice had given up on a nap and was staring outside, worrying over Uncle Walter. She’d worry about him too, just as soon as she had a taste of the city of Boston.

  Her steps were light as she made her way to the center of town. To Boston Common. She maneuvered much faster in her boy’s clothing than she could in the gowns Bernice had ordered for her. She spread her arms out, taking in the beauty of the Common, of the lake that mirrored the surrounding structures, and her steps slowed. The faces of the men, women and children who were out in the middle of the day didn’t appear any different from the people she’d known back in London. Perhaps many of them were people like Daniel, whose parents had migrated to America. Maybe they weren’t so different. Just rebellious. Like she was.

  A rush of running steps behind her made her twist around just as a hand latched onto the nape of her shirt.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Pippa couldn’t control the sparks igniting in her body. Daniel! She’d recognize his voice anywhere. She spun around to face him. To drink him in. She stood in his almost embrace, her eyes fixated on his lips, unable to form a cohesive thought. “Daniel.”

  “What the hell are you doing here? And again, in disguise?” Even the growl in his voice made her tingle down to her toes.

  “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Uncle Walter reported for duty last night and poor Aunt Bernice is worried sick, what with all the gunfire.” Pippa’s excuse sounded weak, even to her. “I thought, if I could see how the British forces were holding up, I could ease her mind.”

  Daniel hadn’t let go of her shirt and was tugging her back the way she’d come. “You shouldn’t be here. Go home and start rolling bandages, make yourself useful there.”

  She dug in her feet, so Daniel placed his arm around her waist, and made her take steps alongside him. She should fight harder against him, but she was enjoying the warmth of his arm around her. Her muscles were as taut as a violin bow, waiting for his touch. His closeness tempted her to lean back, put her head on his broad shoulder, as if they were a couple out for a stroll.

  “Why should I be rolling bandages? Aunt Bernice would never give aid to any of the colonists.” Pippa grinned up at him.

  “There are two factions in the battle, Pippa. Some of the British soldiers will be injured or killed, too.” Daniel hurried her along.

  “But the British troops are the best fighting force in the world! Countries all over the globe fear them. How can there be fatalities on the British side?” Pippa had more questions, but it was hard to carry on a conversation while she was being propelled down the street at such a rapid pace.

  “The Americans may be rag-tag now, but they have a migh
ty leader in General Washington. Anything can happen.” Daniel stood in front of the door to Aunt Bernice’s. “Do you wish to go in the front door, or the back one which is where I’m guessing you exited?”

  “Let’s go around back.”

  Daniel’s steps were sure as he circled the structure. He finally dropped his arm from her waist when they arrived at the door. Pippa immediately missed the warmth his touch had ignited in her, but the way he now stood, in front of her, with his arms on either side of the door, penned her in. A shiver of excitement pulsed through her body and she raised a hand to brush back the lock of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. He took a step backward, and Pippa’s hand fell.

  “Why are you not engaged in the battle, as is Uncle Walter?”

  “I need to get the Gladys Maria out of the harbor before noon. You’ve upset my timeline.” Daniel snarled.

  “I can help! Let me go with you. I know what you need to do to get the ship out of the harbor.” Pippa tried to keep the pleading out of her voice, but there it was.

  “No. I’ll not be responsible for you. It’s too dangerous out here. Now get inside, and don’t come out again until this is over.” He latched onto her shoulder and opened the door, propelling her forward. She pivoted inside the doorway and they stared at each other for a long moment until his gaze fell to her lips.

  She closed her eyes and held her breath, aware he was about to kiss her. Dampness formed between her legs, as she recalled the wild, unbridled kisses they'd shared.

  The door clinked shut, and she opened her eyes.

  She was alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Uncle Walter hadn’t yet returned home, and Pippa continued to wince every time a gunshot rang out. Bernice sobbed quietly in the parlor, her needlework forgotten along with the fruit-filled teacakes the maid had delivered along with the afternoon tea. Pippa took a bite of the yeasty confection before she set her plate back on the table. She, too, had no appetite.

  “Should we be doing something, Auntie? Roll bandages, perhaps?” Pippa had no idea why they should engage in such an activity, but Daniel thought it a proper way for ladies to wait for the siege to come to an end. And right now, he knew more about how these skirmishes took place than she did.

  “An excellent idea, Pippa. It will pass the time. I’ll ring for the maid to fetch us some supplies.” Bernice blew her nose into her handkerchief and rose to instruct the maid.

  “We’ll do our part for the cause, Pippa.” Bernice’s voice broke. “Ho-how did you come up with the idea?”

  Pippa held Bernice’s hand. “With all the gunfire that’s ringing out, it is possible some of our men will sustain injury. We can send the bandages over to the barracks hospital.”

  They sat in the darkening room without conversing. Except for the occasional audible sob from Bernice, the room was quiet. Pippa’s mind wandered back to earlier that morning, when she and Daniel had shared a few moments. It had been a very long couple of weeks since she’d arrived on America’s shore and, even though she was grateful to set foot on land again, she missed being aboard ship with Daniel, missed seeing him daily, missed feasting her eyes on him when he wasn’t looking, waiting for him to touch her, to scorch her lips as he barely controlled his lust. She had initially thought she could hold sway over him, since she had unleashed the beast in him more than once. But today, after he’d wrapped an arm around her, been so close to her she could inhale his unique scent of tobacco, spice and the sea, had his senses aroused to the point he was about to lose his rigid control again and kiss her senseless, he’d closed the door on her.

  Damn the man.

  Loud noises from the street aroused Pippa from her musings. She ran to the window and let out a sharp cry as some of the soldiers assisted Uncle Walter down from a cart. A cart full of soldiers who were bloody and screaming in pain. “Aunt Bernice! Uncle Walter is home, but he’s suffered an injury. Come quickly!”

  Pippa was surprised at the speed of the rotund lady. She was on the sidewalk in front of the home before Pippa could even get to the door.

  “Oh, Walter, I’ve been so worried.” Bernice placed an arm around her husband, helping him to stand.

  Even in his pain, Walter kept his military stance. “I’ll be fine, Bernice. Dry your tears, my dear. It’s only a flesh wound. But the others in the cart need our attention, and the wounded have already overcrowded the hospital, so we must set up a room for these men and tend to them ourselves.”

  Bernice’s damp gaze wandered over the sobbing men in the cart. “Of course, Walter. Pippa and I will care for them.” She helped her husband into the house, issuing orders to the maid at the door, whose widened eyes witnessed the spectacle.

  Pippa remained rooted on the sidewalk as the men who could get down from the cart made their way indoors. Two soldiers took those who couldn't make it on their own inside, one at a time. All the men were bleeding, tired and filthy. How could so many have fallen? The British military was the best in the world. What had happened? She placed her shaking hands on her cheeks, tears welling up.

  Maybe America wasn’t the exciting adventure she'd hoped for.

  She gulped in air and then followed the slow pace of the men inside. Bernice had quickly converted the parlor into a hospital. Men lay on the floor, side by side, moaning or even worse, not moving and quiet.

  “What can I do, Auntie?”

  Bernice’s hair had come undone from its updo and fell into her eyes. She brushed the errant locks aside and took stock of the room. “The doctor will come as soon as he can. What we need to do in the meantime is to give these poor men water and use those bandages we just rolled to stop the bleeding. We must do what we can to make them comfortable. You get a bucket of water and a dipper and I’ll do the rest.”

  Pippa’s mind glazed over as she knelt beside each man, offering water. She didn’t want to conjure up the scene these men had lived through, those who were lucky enough to still be alive. Uncle Walter followed alongside the doctor when he arrived and his men lifted several soldiers off the floor and placed back in the cart. It was too late for Pippa and Bernice, or the doctor, to be of service to them.

  As dawn broke, Pippa clenched her aching back and made her way to the kitchen where she could sit for a few minutes. Uncle Walter was at the table, his damaged leg wrapped tightly and his head in his hands. She took a seat beside him.

  “What happened, Uncle? How could so many of our soldiers have been wounded? Did the colonists win?” Pippa dipped her hankie into the bucket of water she had sat on the table and wiped the sheen of sweat and dirt from her uncle’s face.

  He sighed, closed his eyes and ran his hand over them. “The Americans had the early advantage, since they amassed their forces at Bunker Hill. They mowed our lines down as if we were sitting ducks. And we were.”

  Pippa’s heart raced. “So, do the Americans get to claim victory?”

  Walter bowed his head. “No. Thank the good lord. They ran out of ammunition after killing and wounding so many of our forces. We could finally overtake them. But, against this army of misfits, we will have to change our tactics. They don’t fight in a normal, civilized fashion.”

  Pippa bit her bottom lip. “Is any war civilized? From what I’ve seen today, I’d venture to guess no war is cultured and refined.” She shook her head and stood. “I must get back to work and relieve Aunt Bernice, who is about to fall over from exhaustion.”

  She returned to the parlor. Only a few men were awake now, having been given laudanum for their pain. She wound her way from one to the other, plumping pillows and tugging blankets over them. But the entire time, she pictured the scene her uncle had created for her. Had the Americans suffered as much as the British? Were all of their soldiers now taken prisoner by the Brits? Where was Daniel in all this?

  • ♥ •

  Daniel’s fogged brain was a sign it had been days since he’d slept. The colonists had suffered a defeat at Bunker Hill and Breed’s Hill, but not before dr
iving the British forces away twice. If only they’d had more ammunition, victory would have belonged to the Americans.

  There were too many casualties. The British lines had been decimated time and again by the onslaught of bullets and cannons, and bodies now littered the hills surrounding Boston. Following a careful accounting of the men’s names and ranks, they had to be buried as quickly as possible. Daniel, along with the British soldiers who had survived intact, dug trenches long into the night. And the next day. The day after that, he helped dig a trench for the Americans who had died. It was hell having a foot in both camps. But it was also essential to the cause.

  He finally laid down his shovel and rowed out to the Gladys Maria, anchored in the Cambridge harbor. He collapsed onto his hammock, but when he closed his eyes, the horrors of the battle scene flashed in front of him. He had buried friends in both trenches. Had there ever been a time when his country was not at war? Was there more he could do to speed things along? To send the British packing?

  Samuel Adams’s idea that he should use Pippa to retrieve information rolled slowly through the sludge his brain matter had become. His heart nearly burst when he caught sight of her on the streets in her boy’s clothing. She had no idea of the risk, the danger, in which she’d placed herself. Then, when he got her back to the house, he’d nearly stolen a kiss as payment for his services. Even with a battle looming and the overwhelming need to get his ship out of Boston’s harbor, his body had leaned in. Thank goodness better sense had prevailed at the last moment, because he would not have been able to stop at a single kiss. He hadn’t seen her for weeks, after having her as a constant companion for months and he craved her. But he had a battle to fight the best way he could.

  He scrubbed his hand over his eyes, attempting to blot out the picture in his head. Visions of Pippa replaced the horrors of the battlefield, but tormented him in much the same fashion. He groaned as he tossed on the hammock. “Damn you, woman.”