Rebellious Heart

by Jody Hedlund

  But passion wouldn’t get him where he needed to go. He couldn’t let emotions dictate his decisions. He needed to stay sensible about the best course of action for his future.

  “I know you’ll make any woman a fine husband,” Parson Wibird said with kindness in his squinted eyes. “But if you marry for ambition, will it only be the first of many compromises you make for the sake of improving your reputation?”

  Ben couldn’t find an answer. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find the answer.

  The parson rocked back and forth on his heels.

  For all the parson’s quirks and his craggy appearance, the man had more wisdom than all the reverends of Massachusetts Colony put together. He’d seen old Joe Sewall’s innocence. He’d never once condemned Joe like everyone else and was offering the man shelter when no one else cared.

  Ben knew he couldn’t find a better, more honest and wise friend than Parson Wibird.

  Yet, today, the parson’s words didn’t seem quite as wise as they usually did.

  Surely God didn’t disapprove of his trying to make a better life for himself. Surely He wouldn’t find fault in him for marrying a woman of means, not when so much good could come of it, for him and for his family.

  And what of Cicero’s words? “The first way for a young man to set himself on the road towards glorious reputation is to win renown.”

  Ben knew he was living in a society where one’s status and reputation were counted above everything—even intelligence and hard work. Marrying Hannah Quincy would be one more step down the road toward finally gaining the respect of the many men who’d always regarded him as inferior.

  Yes, he would propose to her tonight at the party at Mount Wollaston.

  He glanced back at the letter he’d written to Susanna.

  She’d likely be at the party too. He’d deliver the letter to her, but that was it.

  He’d keep his distance. Not that she’d want to be around him anyway, not after discovering the secret tunnel and the smuggling ring.

  In fact, after the loathing written all over her face yesterday, he had the feeling she’d make it easy for him to stay away since she wouldn’t come anywhere near him now.

  Susanna wanted to escape from Elbridge’s clammy grip and sneak away to a secluded spot to read. Even though she’d already devoured nearly every volume in Grandmother Eve’s house, she still preferred burying herself in a book—here, without the worry of Mother catching her and trying to make her stop.

  But she couldn’t leave, not yet. Not after Mary and Mr. Cranch had just announced their engagement. He’d discoursed with Father privately earlier in the day. Then he’d proposed to Mary in the parlor shortly after he’d arrived. And they’d decided to get married in November in just a month’s time.

  Across the dining room, Mary hung onto Mr. Cranch’s arm. Her smile rivaled the sun in its brightness. Then again, Mary was the sun. Susanna couldn’t begrudge her sister the glory she radiated.

  “Maybe we’ll have another engagement soon.” Elbridge patted Susanna’s hand and then adjusted it more snugly within the crook of his arm.

  “Perhaps we shall,” Grandmother Eve said through a bite of one of the tiny cakes the servants had passed among the guests after dinner. Her plump cheeks were rosy and her eyes twinkled.

  “All in due time.” Elbridge glanced at Susanna in an altogether familiar manner, one that made her want to pull away.

  “I have a feeling the engagement will be sooner rather than later.” Grandmother stared openly at Ben Ross as he hovered near Hannah Quincy.

  Although Susanna had done her best to avoid him for the past hour, she’d at least expected him to look at her, even sneak a peek in her direction. But he’d been too focused on Hannah to see anyone else.

  He’d hung upon her every word, jumped at her every beckon, and practically groveled at her feet.

  Irritation wound through Susanna.

  Weren’t there any men who cared about the beauty of a woman’s inward qualities rather than her outward appearance and qualifications?

  Elbridge looked around the room and stiffened at the sight of Ben guiding Hannah away from the group. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead near his powdered wig. “You don’t think Ross will attempt to propose marriage to my sister, do you?”

  Grandmother Eve gave a weak laugh. “I’ve heard rumors we’ll have another engagement tonight.”

  Against her wishes, Susanna found herself staring at Ben’s broad shoulders as he led Hannah out of the room.

  Would Ben really marry Hannah?

  A momentary twinge of panic urged her to rush after him and stop him. But the panic made no sense. Why should she care whom Ben Ross married? It wasn’t any of her concern.

  Elbridge’s attention was riveted to the retreating couple. “Mrs. Quincy, are you insinuating that Ross is proposing to Hannah this very evening?”

  “I’m not insinuating. I’m quite positive he’s planning to ask her. He told me so himself when he arrived.”

  Elbridge frowned and quickly extricated Susanna’s hand from his arm. “Excuse me. I shall be back shortly.”

  He strode across the room toward the door, obviously intending to follow his sister and Ben.

  Grandmother Eve’s smile widened.

  “Do you think Elbridge will disrupt Ben’s plans?” Susanna was surprised that she secretly hoped he would.

  “Why else do you think I told him?”

  “Grandmother Eve!” Susanna feigned indignation. “Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

  “Because Benjamin Ross is falling in love with someone else.”

  “He is?”

  “Of course he is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  The voices of the guests around her seemed to fade away. What other woman could claim Ben’s affection if not Hannah Quincy?

  Susanna swallowed a tight lump. “Are you sure? I haven’t seen Mr. Ross with anyone else.”

  Grandmother Eve turned to Susanna, and her eyes twinkled. “I’ve seen him with you, my dear Susanna.”

  Did Grandmother Eve think Ben was falling in love with her? Susanna shook her head. “You’re quite mistaken. Ben doesn’t like me any more than I like him.”

  Grandmother Eve pinched Susanna’s cheek. “Come now, darling. I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And he’s never come close to looking at Hannah that way.”

  “It doesn’t matter if Ben has some fondness for me or not,” Susanna said. “He’s not the sort of man I can associate with.”

  “Oh, you silly wild colt. He’s exactly the sort of man you need.”

  “I’m not sure Mother would think so.”

  Grandmother Eve’s smile disappeared. “Ah, Susanna darling. As much as our dear mothers love us, sometimes fear can hold them back from seeing the good in others.”

  Sadness crept across Grandmother Eve’s features, and her eyes took on a distant look as if remembering an occasion with her own mother. It was hard to imagine that her cheerful, easygoing grandmother had ever had any conflicts in her life.

  “’Tis exceedingly easy,” Grandmother Eve said, “to get caught up in the way things have always been done and never question if that’s the way they should continue.”

  Before she could question her grandmother or find the words to explain why she could never harbor affection for Ben, the shouts from the parlor across the hallway stopped her.

  Ben’s voice rose in tempo, followed by Elbridge’s.

  Mr. Cranch broke away from Mary and started toward the commotion as did several other guests. And although Susanna wanted to rush after them, she decided she’d better make use of the distraction to escape the party.

  It didn’t matter what her grandmother thought about Ben. She doubted the dear woman would be matchmaking if she knew the truth about Ben’s illegal involvements. Instead she’d ban Ben from coming to her house ever again.

  Susanna made her way down the hallway past the parlor. She slipped into her
grandfather’s study. And after several moments browsing his shelves, she picked a volume of Shakespeare she’d already read a dozen times.

  She wrapped a knit blanket around her shoulders and settled in the hard desk chair. The dustiness of the books and the spiciness of her grandfather’s rum were comforting scents. The rhythmic ticking of the mahogany wall clock soothed her as it always had.

  Her grandfather didn’t complain often, but he’d grumbled about how much the clock had cost. Of course, the polished wood with its scalloped pediment and its front opening door made of real glass was not the kind of item most people owned. Even so, her grandfather had one of his rare moments of consternation at the exorbitant price of the British imported clock.

  Susanna perused the small study, suddenly wondering how many other items her grandfather had purchased from the British and at what cost. The shelves of books, the framed map of the world, the painted porcelain vase, even the tasseled carpet covering the wood floor—all of it had been imported and quite expensive.

  They were the kinds of items ordinary colonists couldn’t afford. But would they be able to buy more if the British didn’t have the monopoly and charge higher prices and taxes?

  Why were the British charging them so much anyway?

  Susanna sat back in her chair, and the fiery passion in Ben’s eyes flashed through her mind. He’d seemed so certain of what he was doing and so convinced the British rule was oppressive.

  Maybe there was a grain of truth to what he was saying. And maybe she’d rushed to judge him yesterday.

  Whatever the case, she could admit that even if she disagreed with what he and the others were doing, he was a kind and helpful man. And whether she liked it or not, she still needed his assistance with Dotty.

  She’d only just managed to read through Act 1 of Romeo and Juliet when the door of the study squeaked open and Ben poked his head in.

  At the sight of her, he slid into the room and closed the door behind him. The quiet click sent her heartbeat scampering.

  He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms. “I thought I’d find you reading.”

  “I’d much rather read than hang on Mr. Quincy’s arm all evening.” She uncrossed her legs and smoothed her gown. She’d gotten into the impolite habit of crossing her legs while she read, and everybody knew sitting with legs crossed was a social taboo for ladies like herself.

  Through the dim light coming from the candles in the wall sconces, the glimmer in his eyes told her he’d noticed her mishap.

  She wanted to ask him the outcome of his proposal to Hannah, whether he’d had time to confirm marriage plans before Elbridge barged in on them. But she was surprised to find herself too afraid to ask.

  “I’m taking my leave,” he said.

  “Oh.” The word came out in a breath of disappointment. She was sure she should have been relieved. After all, since yesterday’s discovery, she’d told herself she would have to limit her contact with Benjamin Ross most severely.

  “I’m riding circuit with the judges starting tomorrow and need to retire early tonight. But I wanted to give you something before I go.”

  It was only then she noticed he was holding a book.

  He turned it over, revealing the title: The Odyssey by Homer. Then he held it out to her. “For you.”

  She pushed out of the chair and stood, letting the blanket fall to the floor. “Alexander Pope’s translation from the Greek?”

  “It’s only volume one, but I thought you might like to borrow it.”

  “Is it yours?”

  “I may not have much, but I do have a plentiful supply of books I’ve collected over the years.”

  “What more do you need?”

  He grinned. “I agree with Erasmus: ‘When I have a little money, I buy books; and if I have any left, I buy food and clothes.’”

  She laughed softly. “And I agree with Cicero: ‘A room without books is like a body without a soul.’”

  He shoved away from the door and started across the study toward her. The light in his eyes flashed with the warmth and merriment she was finding altogether too attractive.

  As much as she knew she should resist being in close proximity to this man, she couldn’t make herself move, even when he stopped directly before her.

  “I see I have finally met someone else who loves books as much as I do.”

  “Or perhaps more.” She caught the scent of him—the unique combination of wet soil and soap—the sign he’d attended his farm duties but had taken the time to attempt to present himself as a gentleman.

  “Maybe we have more in common than I realized.” His voice was low, and his gaze traveled around her face languidly.

  At his boldness, heat flushed her cheeks and she lowered her lashes. Perhaps Grandmother Eve had been right about the way Ben looked at her. His bold stare certainly went beyond ordinary interest, especially for a man who had just proposed marriage to another woman.

  She took a step away from him but bumped into the desk chair. “Do tell me. How are you and my dear cousin Hannah faring?”

  He stiffened almost as though her words had punched him. “We’re faring well enough, thank you.”

  So, were they betrothed or not? The question hung at the tip of her tongue.

  He refused to look her in the eyes and instead peered at the book.

  She swallowed her curiosity. She certainly wasn’t planning to pester him about his plans and have him think she cared about his relationship with Hannah. What did or didn’t happen between them wasn’t any of her concern.

  He held out the book. “Make sure you read page twenty-five first.”

  She took it and slid her fingers over the cover reverently. The pages fell open to the place he’d indicated, revealing a folded sheet of paper.

  A letter.

  She caressed it, relief swelling through her. And gratefulness.

  He gently closed the book, forcing her to remove her fingers from the paper. “It would be better—safer—to read it later in private.”

  She nodded. “I don’t know how to thank you. I was worried after our disagreement you might not want to help me.”

  “I’m not petty, Susanna. If I said I would help you, then you can count on it.” The swirling blue in his eyes held traces of both warmth and worry. “Just be careful and don’t do anything rash until I have more information and can ride to Boston to investigate the situation more fully.”

  “It will soon be rather cold for her to live outside—”

  Ben lifted his fingers to her lips and cut off her words with his soft touch. He tossed a glance over his shoulder toward the door.

  She held her breath and listened, catching a faint creak in the floorboards in the hallway.

  Was someone listening to their conversation?

  They stood silently for a long moment, Ben’s finger against her lips.

  The pressure seemed to grow, and finally his gaze dropped to her lips. But instead of pulling away, his eyes darkened and his finger slid to her lower lip. He grazed the rounded curve starting on one end and slowly working toward the other.

  The touch left her breathless.

  And when his finger moved to her top lip and began tracing the sensitive skin there, her body trembled.

  What was it about Ben Ross that made her ignore reason? Why did his merest contact ignite her?

  Certainly she’d never met another man who could so easily make her forget about everything but him.

  He sucked in his breath, and something about the intensity in his eyes told her he was contemplating kissing her again. And this time he wouldn’t be kissing her to put on a show for Lieutenant Wolfe. No. If he kissed her again, it would be because he wanted to.

  The door of the study swung open and banged against the wall, making it shudder.

  “Ben?” Mr. Cranch barged into the room.

  Susanna scrambled to put distance between herself and Ben, but only managed to fall backward into the desk chair. Ben turned to
face his friend.

  “Come quick,” Mr. Cranch said. He was out of breath, his face devoid of the usual merriment. “We just got news from one of the neighbors.”

  “What news?” Ben’s voice hardened.

  “There’s been another murder.”

  Chapter

  11

  “It’s another young woman,” Ben’s father called from a patch of salt hay on the wide expanse of beach.

  Ben slid off his horse. The half-moon faded in and out behind a gauze of clouds, providing intermittent light. Alas, he wished there was nothing but darkness to obscure what he must look upon.

  The wind taunted the lantern Cranch had carried during the ride down from Mount Wollaston, making it throw strange flickers of light over the beach. One of the other farmers standing near his father also held a lantern that cast long eerie shadows over the sand that was covered with tangles of seaweed deposited by the recent storm.

  “She’s not from our community,” his father said. “A stranger, just like the last girl.”

  Ben started toward his father, but at the movement by his side, he stopped.

  Susanna had dismounted.

  He spun upon her with all the frustration rampaging through his chest. “You may have convinced me to allow you to come along,” he said between clenched teeth, “but you need to stay with Cranch and Elbridge. You’re not stepping one foot closer to the body.”

  “Please. I have to know her identity.” Her voice quavered, and she looked at him again with the same beguiling plea that had made him toss reason aside and allow her to accompany him.

  “If you come any closer, I’ll have Cranch sling you across his saddle and take you right back to your grandmother’s house.”

  She leaned toward his ear and whispered, “I’m afraid it’s Dotty.” She was obviously thinking the same thing he was, that perhaps the man who had chased Dotty the first time had captured her again, and that instead of taking her back to Mr. Lovelace, he’d killed her instead.