Sharing Hamilton

by Diana Rubino

  I shook my head. “Anyone who follows Jefferson, any Republican. I now realize it will be nigh on impossible to finger a suspect, unless you are one of those soothsayers who sees the unseen by reading tea leaves.”

  She brandished a smug grin. “I need no tea leaves, ma'am. I've dismantled many a haystack and discovered more than my share of needles. Tis why I am one of your husband's largest depositors.”

  My eyes widened in surprise. “I didn't realize the work was so lucrative.”

  “Trust me, it is. Quite.” Her smugness gave way to a humble nod. “But I cannot discuss particulars, for obvious reasons. Suffice it to say I can afford to work pro bono occasionally, for folk I like. Such as yourself.” She tugged on her bonnet strings.

  “And I can trust you to keep anything to yourself that you do find,” I warned. “Ma'am, never shall I divulge my confidences. Ever. Upon threat of death. You have my word as a God-fearing Christian. And as a patriot, since the war is over and the patriots won.” For emphasis, she crossed her heart. I half expected her to pluck a Bible from her satchel and swear on it.

  “Tis cold out here.” Coatless, I began shivering. “Please, do come in for a spot of tea and warm up a bit, Annie.” I turned and held the door open for her. With Maria and Jacob gone, the children napping and Alex busy with his congressman, loneliness engulfed me. I was very much alone and wanting for company. She was an intriguing woman, and I was curious to get to know her better. Also I'd realized how desperate I was for female companionship. I needed a confidante. Annie, with her background, fit the bill perfectly.

  “Why, thank you, Elizabeth.” Looking grateful, for she looked half frozen, shivering, she followed me inside and warmed up before the fire.

  I rang for a servant and settled in to enjoy my guest. Tonight I planned to seduce my husband and recapture that passion and rapture we'd shared in the past. It had been far too long.

  Maria

  “I hope I didn't overdo it,” Jacob said as we walked to his carriage on the corner.

  “Jacob, I know you're a bit theatrical at times, but you could have given Shakespeare a run for his money.” I pulled on my gloves. “Tell me truthfully, how many hours did you spend at your looking glass rehearsing those lines?”

  He helped me into the carriage. Shivering against the blast of wind, I slid inside and gathered my skirts around me. He instructed the driver to take us back to my house and huddled next to me. His right thigh bumped against my left as the carriage lurched into the street. “I never rehearse,” he said. “I prefer spontaneity. Anything rehearsed sounds—parroted, insincere.”

  “Heaven above, you certainly sounded sincere.” My eyes landed on his profile and struggled not to linger. “You had Mrs. Hamilton practically crying into her gold-rimmed teacup.”

  He placed one gloved hand on my cheek, turning me to face him. “I was sincere, Maria. When I proposed to you in front of the Hamiltons, we were supposed to be pretending. But truth be told—I meant every word. I do love you. I have for some time now. Making you my wife would make my life complete.” He spoke as if reciting a vow.

  “Oh, Jacob,” I sighed. My eyes darted about as he held my face captive. An awkward pause hung between us. “I'm very flattered. But my interest in you is on the level of a compatriot.” I scrambled for the right words, nothing too harsh. I couldn't bear the thought of hurting him. “Of course I find you physically attractive. Our common interests in reading, music, and theater never leave us at a loss for conversation, and you're a true gentleman. But—romantic?”

  I inched away as our thighs bumped again. “I'd never imagined you this way, in all the years I've known you. And I'm already married. You shouldn't be saying this at all. James is your friend. This is entirely inappropriate.” There, I'd said my piece as gently but firmly as I knew how. As an ear-witness to Alex's silver tongue, it couldn't help but rub off on me.

  He slid closer and stroked my earlobe. I fought a forbidden shiver of delight. “Maria, be honest and up front with me. Do you truly love James?”

  I met his gaze. “Yes, I do love him. Of course I love him. I love him very much.” My familiarity with Shakespeare told me once again that the lady doth protest too much. But I couldn't help adding, “and he loves me.”

  “You can love someone and no longer want to be wed to them. Jane and I loved each other, but by the time she died, our marriage was over, in the true sense,” he admitted, but he wouldn't win this argument. James and I hardly married for the reason he and Jane did.

  “You married Jane for one reason. Money. And the nation, as well as I, knows it. Jane owned half of North Carolina, she was twenty years your senior, and fancied a young colt—plain and simple.” I could talk to Jacob in this blunt fashion—well enough acquainted, we'd had shared many a jibe and a confession.

  “It evolved,” he admitted. “Just as you and James have evolved. I can tell things have changed between you and him.” He cast me a sideways look.

  The carriage hit a bump and he nearly fell on me. Our gloved hands met, our lips within kissing distance. I turned away. “Things always change between a couple after seven years.”

  “When was the last time you and he made love?” he prodded. Startled, I blushed to my roots.

  I turned to him and glared. “Now you're overstepping your bounds. I care not to discuss intimate details.”

  He went on in his bold fashion, “I know you're smitten with Hamilton and I wouldn't assume you've liaised with him, but I know you wouldn't refuse him if he pursued you.”

  No, I wouldn't let Jacob goad me into admitting anything about Alex. Alex was my cherished secret. “You should have been a lawyer, Jacob. You missed your calling. I feel like a defendant under interrogation for adultery. Now I must testify my innocence.” As a wry smile twisted my lips, I didn't dare look at him. “But what woman would refuse Alexander Hamilton?” I so longed for him, my loins—and heart—ached.

  “None have, from what I've heard,” he answered my rhetorical question.

  We sat in silence for another moment as the carriage rolled along. With the afternoon winding down, long shadows of trees and lampposts reached across the streets. Candles flickered and glowed in several windows. The air grew bone-chillingly frigid.

  “Would you care to sup with me tonight?” he ventured, and I knew my acceptance would have serious implications. But I had nothing else to do. James wouldn't be home, he usually drank his supper at The Grog or the City Tavern. I knew how I'd spend the evening at home—leaning out the window, hoping Alex would visit. Besides, Jacob was such enjoyable company…

  “I'll be happy to. However, Jacob, let us forget our conversation took place. I don't think it wise for you to expose your feelings so candidly.”

  He nodded. “You're absolutely right. I took a chance, hoping you'd return my sentiment. However, I shan't give up hope. When I see that look in your eye again, I'll revisit the topic.”

  Puzzled, I turned to him. “What look in my eye?”

  “For lack of a better phrase, naked longing.” He captured my hand and slipped my glove off. He rubbed my fingers, warming them. “Now that I know the longing is not for me, I shall assume tis for Hamilton. I can only pray your feelings for him will wane as time goes on. When they do, I hope you'll give me the honor of telling me.”

  I hoped my nod signaled the end of this conversation. “You'll be the first to know, Jacob.” Not that it would ever happen. Alex was my grand passion, and I clung to the hope that I'd one day be the second Mrs. Hamilton. “Now—where will we sup tonight?”

  “My residence. I imported a Roman chef who prepares the most delectable, exotic dishes.” He flashed a proud grin.

  “Oysters are exotic enough for me.” I laughed. “I never knew anyone who imported a chef. The Washingtons aren't even that extravagant. And Jacob…” I batted my lashes in shameless flirtation. But we'd now passed the point of propriety. “I also know for a bachelor to invite a married woman to sup at his home is against prop
er protocol.”

  He lifted my gloveless hand and brushed it with his lips. “Well, you know me. A few centuries ahead of my time, mayhap.”

  And he knew me, all right. He'd seen through me as if I were made of crystal, detecting my feelings for Alex. But Alex wouldn't stand in my way tonight. I longed for a man's warm embrace.

  But I kept that to myself. Flirting sufficed—for now.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Severus

  I lay in my bath, allowing the water's warmth to permeate and refresh my body. In truth it had been far too long since I'd found true satisfaction, and tonight, my second self grew ravenous within me. I'd done my best to control the urges, that I might not be harried and forced to leave yet another home, another land. And yet, whatever drove me seemed unaware of my need for security and longevity of residence, the need to find a settled life. No, that inner demon held me in its thrall and I could not stop myself.

  I'd made a host of new acquaintances since my arrival in the New World, and some referred to me as 'friend' though I felt such a bond with no one. Only the wife of Alexander Hamilton gave me any cause for pleasure. Mrs. Hamilton was the only woman in this town with whom I felt a warm affinity.

  Mayhap, as I'd hypothesized, she represented that which I'd been denied by my own mother, for she epitomized in my mind all that a good mother should be. I could never imagine Mrs. Hamilton mistreating or abusing her children in any way.

  I dried myself and dressed in readiness for my latest sojourn through the dark streets. After checking and approving of my appearance in the mirror, I added the final touch to my ensemble, my long white silk scarf.

  * * *

  Daisy May Thomas, seventeen, skipped gaily along the street, happy to be free of work for the night. As lady's maid to Mrs. Clarissa Allyn, her work was hard but not too arduous, though the long hours left her little time for personal enjoyment. Tonight had been her one evening off, Mrs. Allyn kindly telling her to enjoy herself as she left the house.

  Daisy May had spent a happy eve, meeting her friend Lucy Kent, who worked in a book shop by day, and then attending a local music hall where tickets were cheap and the entertainment at times raucous but always fun to watch. After kissing Lucy goodnight, the two parted on the corner of Elfreths Alley where Lucy lived. Daisy May enjoyed walking the last half mile to the Allyn home along the quiet streets. The stars illuminated the sky like the moon's tiny cousins. She made the turn to North Front Street and passed the grounds of the Mortimer house next door to the Allyns. As the Mortimers were away, the sound of a groan coming from inside the grounds alerted her.

  “Hello,” she called out, venturing closer. “Is someone there?”

  “Yes, help me, please,” a man's distressed voice implored.

  “What's wrong?” She stood rooted to the spot, still unsure whether to enter the Mortimer property.

  “I have been attacked,” said the voice. “I fear I may be grievously hurt.”

  Daisy May gasped. “Should I fetch help?”

  “In a minute, but first, please can you help me to sit up so my head might clear a little?”

  Daisy May's charitable nature took over. She stepped through the gateway and nearly stumbled upon the man lying beside the trunk of an oak tree. He was well dressed, obviously a gentleman. More confident now, she stepped closer. His legs lay sprawled at an awkward angle, his tailored britches smeared with dirt. A white scarf fluttered at his neck in the breeze. As she knelt beside him, he groaned again. She placed an arm round his shoulder to assist him to rise.

  “You're a good girl.” His voice strained, laden with pain.

  “Thank you, sir.” She leant over to help him. “Now, we'll get you comfortable and then I will run and fetch my mistress and we will send for a doctor.”

  “That will not be necessary, Daisy May.” He pulled himself from her grasp and struggled to his feet, rising to his full height.

  “What? How?” She leapt back. A stab of shock and fright halted her breath. “Who are you, sir? How do you know my name?”

  “I know all there is to know, Daisy May.” He crept closer. “Did your parents or your employer not warn you of the dangers of walking alone at night, or of the danger posed by strange, unknown men?”

  “I'm sure I don't know what you mean, sir.” Daisy May's voice trembled. Her limbs shook, her insides churned. Her eyes darted about for a suitable escape route.

  “Don't worry, child. It will all be over soon.” Before she could react or speak, he grabbed her with both hands and spun her round to face away from him. Before a scream could form in her throat, he wrapped something round her neck, pulling it tighter and tighter. Her final kicks and gasps soon abated.

  Severus

  I dragged her behind the tree, laid her on her back and began to undress her as my excitement and arousal built towards a crescendo. I spent longer with Daisy May than my previous two victims, using her more than once before abandoning her lifeless body. I placed my scarf back round my neck before strolling home, to bed.

  Daisy May's body lay undiscovered for two days.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Maria

  Wensday, March the First

  I'd never been in Jacob's company alone, except for that carriage ride. I squealed with joy as I pretended he was my beau. Was I now leading a triple life, an adulterous wife alone with a man who'd professed his love for me? I'd never even read a novel quite like this. I needed not be coy and coquettish with Jacob, having known him so long. But his heartfelt confession put me on guard, lest I further his ardor.

  As we reached Jacob's mansion, I gaped in wonder. “Oh, Jacob, this is more magnificent than last time.” Candles blazed in the chandeliers visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “Oh, not really.” He alighted from the carriage and assisted me out. His hand lingered on mine after my feet touched the ground. This time an older butler, in formal dress and impeccably groomed, greeted us at the door and relieved us of our cloaks. He ushered us into the sitting room, where a young manservant tended the fire in the massive hearth. Both servants bade us good eve and bowed out. Obviously Jacob hadn't reduced his late wife's staff.

  “The evening meal is served at six sharp every eve. At ten, the night staff takes over.” Jacob tugged on a rope in the corner, escorted me to a wing chair by the fire and sat across from me. A liveried servant appeared. “Two brandies, unless the lady prefers something else?” Jacob regarded me and I shook my head.

  “Brandy is fine.” I knew it would warm me.

  He clasped his hands twixt his knees. “Maria, I apologize for my declaration of before. I am an open and honest man and find it best to speak my mind—and my heart. It always tells me where I stand with anyone. Which gives me great joy, knowing that if I'd scared you away, you would not be here.”

  “That's true, I must admit. You didn't scare me away. You just unnerved me. If we start—” I caught my breath. “Well, you know what I'm trying to say.” My hands fluttered in my lap. “I don't need an additional complication in my life.” What I left unsaid was that I already loved two men, in very different ways, and adding a third would cause me to begin a very tricky—and exhausting—juggling act. “But I'm not one to run away, Jacob. Besides, you'd find me, I'm sure.”

  He didn't return that with a witty comeback, on purpose, I knew. He deliberately left it hanging in the air—for a later date. We shared a knowing look.

  The manservant entered with a tray holding a crystal decanter and two brandy snifters. He placed it on the table between us and bowed out. Jacob laid his snifter on its side. The liquid reached the edge of the rim but did not spill out. “Perfect.” He held it upright and offered it to me. “To a long life. With whomever you are destined to share it.”

  I drank to that, barely sipping, only letting the warm liquid warm my lips and tongue. I did not need a column of fire burning my insides. He reclined in his chair, his tight britches outlining his manly endowments—but not quite as
generous as Alex, I concluded with a secret smile.

  For the first time, I scanned Jacob head to toe, as a woman sees a man. He carried a firm and athletic physique, his equestrian's muscles well developed. I'd never seen him don a wig over his own abundant hair, brown with an auburn sheen. His hair hadn't Alex's gray streaks, nor had his hairline begun its ascent up his forehead. The firelight danced in his eyes. I fought the temptation to compare his appearance to Alex's, and lost. At least five years Alex's junior, he indulged in the wealth and comfort Jane had provided him. No worry or fatigue lines creased his features. His skin was smoother than Alex's, due to youth and freedom from care.

  “I'm far too young to ponder my destiny.” I raised a brow.

  His smile etched a parenthesis around his lips. I compared his smile to Alex's, then halted myself right there. I refused to let any fantasies enter my mind. I harbored no desire for a friend whom I'd regarded as a cousin all these years. Although he was handsome. And desirable. And a superb kisser…

  “What are you thinking of, Maria?” He jarred me from my reverie. “Or should I say whom?” He tilted his head and rotated his snifter, the amber liquid coating the inside.

  “No one special.” I tried to change the subject. “So, what about the price of tea these days?”

  “What is truly bothering you?” he badgered. “You can tell me. You're not yourself. You haven't mentioned a book or play title or sonata since last we met. Your mind is elsewhere. But I am here for you. Spill it at my feet. I shall pick up the pieces and give you the perspective you need.”

  Oh, how I wished Alex had said that to me! How I wanted his to be the shoulder to cry on, as I offered him mine. But no, Alex was intent on guarding his innermost thoughts. Now here sat Jacob, offering to be everything Alex could not and would not be.

  “My circumstances have been fraught lately.” I cupped the glass with my fingers, wishing I liked brandy. “Mostly about our finances. James's speculating, his other schemes, his coming home loaded down with cash, and then after tossing me a tidy sum, squandering the remainder, leaving us bereft. Not an easy way to live.” I ventured a sip and swallowed as I sought out my words. “You are fortunate in that you have a sizable reserve—and no desire to gamble more than you can lose. James draws on the well till it's nearly dry—every time.”