“No, son. I was the fool to think you should pay for my debt. If I had not sent this woman to you, you would not be shackled to her now.”
Ransom lifted his head to stare at his father. Though older, their resemblance to one another was uncanny. “Shackled? No, Father, you don’t understand. I am a fool because I did not believe Cat, although almost everything pointed to her innocence.”
“You love the chit,” Phillip Kent stated, rather than ask.
Unsure at the moment, Ransom shrugged. “I do not know. I only know she belongs to me and I have dishonored her in more ways than I wish to admit.”
“Then I am forgiven for interfering with your life?”
Ransom smiled. “I must thank you instead. If you had not interfered, Catherine would never have come into my life.” He rose to pour himself another brandy, then paused. “She has led me a merry chase, but I have found no boredom in my wife.”
“It was much the same with me and your mother,” Phillip grinned. Ransom nodded, remembering his parents from his youth. “What do you plan to do now, son?”
“I will return home as soon as possible.”
Phillip frowned. “This is your home, “he reminded him. “You could bring your wife here, you know.”
Resuming his seat, Ransom shook his head. “No, Father. Though I am deeply pleased you would risk the wrath of society to take me back into the fold, I have built a new life in a land I love more dearly than England.”
“But your mother and I would like to meet our new daughter.”
“And so you shall,” Ransom grinned. “This war cannot last forever. When things are settled, we will visit. Better yet, you and Mother could come there.”
Phillip laughed. “Do you really think your mother will leave all this?” he said, waving his hand to indicate the family estate.
“I would, indeed!” Margaret Kent announced as she swept into the room. “Especially if it allows me to spend some time with my son.”
Both men rose as Ransom moved to embrace his mother. “I wondered how long you would leave us alone,” he teased. “For longer than I expected.”
Swatting his arm, Margaret chuckled throatily. “You are not too old to send to your room, you know.”
Amused by his mother’s enjoyment of her role, Ransom quirked a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Too bad his Catherine isn’t here,” Phillip chuckled. “I have no doubt he would love to be sent there.”
Ransom felt his neck grow warm and noted a smile of understanding on his mother’s face.
“Too bad, indeed,” she said as she took a chair next to her husband. “Then we could show Lord Thorpe what a real lady is.”
“Do not start, Maggie,” Phillip reprimanded.
Ransom knew a disagreement was brewing between his parents when his father used his special name for his mother. He returned to his tea.
“I can not help it!” Margaret exclaimed. “Every time I think of you trying to match Sabrina to our son, I could scream.”
Ransom leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “No woman is enough for a son, Mother. You only champion Catherine because we are already wed.”
“Humph! You could have been shackled to that . . . that—”
“Woman?” Phillip offered.
Margaret struck an indignant pose. “That will have to do.”
Ransom chuckled. “Still outspoken, I see.”
Phillip nodded. “But she has cause. Charles was wrong to ask and I was moreso in forcing the issue, regardless of the bride,” Phillip sighed. “I am pleased it has worked out.”
Deep in thought, Ransom pondered all he had heard since his arrival. Most of the conversation rotated around how bad Sabrina was. What he really needed to know was exactly how good his wife was. “What can you tell me about Catherine’s background?” he finally asked straight out.
“All I know,” Margaret began, “is that the child was the product of Lord Thorpe’s youngest brother and the second daughter of the Earl of Bickford. Surprisingly, it was a love match, but neither had much to bring to the marriage. They had a small estate somewhere and Catherine was their only child.”
“From what I have heard,” Phillip continued, “she was a shy, little thing. Guess she was devastated when she lost her parents, or so Charles told me when I inquired about her. She never wanted to join him or Sabrina in anything social, and he respected her wishes.”
“No doubt,” Ransom commented dryly as he remembered Catherine’s revelation about her cousin’s intervention on her behalf. He leaned back and reflected on the woman he had wed. She had borne up well under adverse conditions, including the ones he piled upon her. She was strong yet gentle, shy yet courageous. Of all the things a woman could be, his Catherine was the best of them, including a creature of passions equal to his own.
“I will be leaving in the morning,” he said. He realized now how desperate he was to return to her.
Margaret rose and came to him to place a hand upon his shoulder, “Go to her, son, and allow her into your heart.” She smiled down on him. “If you have not already.”
* * *
There was simply no breeze. The damp, heavy air of August hung over the land, suppressing any unnecessary exertion. Catherine had never experienced such humidity before. Even the moisture of England was not this oppressing. “Will this last long?” she asked Alice as she fanned herself.
“A few weeks.” Alice grinned and Catherine groaned. “But it won’t be steady. Ya can expect a good storm ta rise up every few days. It don’t help much, but for a few hours ya can breathe.”
Catherine stuffed a handkerchief into her bodice to keep the perspiration from rolling between her breasts. She sighed. “Even a few hours would be appreciated. We have a lot more vegetables to prepare for the root cellar.”
Alice tipped her head and grinned. “Don’t ya ever rest?”
“I cannot,” Catherine admitted aloud. “I am too worried about Ransom. He has been gone over two months and I cannot help but think—”
“Now don’t go gettin’ yourself worked up,” Alice reminded her. “It takes time ta travel so far. Then he has to go around any English ships he spots. Could be another month before he gets back.”
At the thought of herself heavy with child when he returned, Catherine frowned. She so wanted to be attractive for him, and her stomach was beginning to round gently already. “I hope he comes home sooner than that.”
A distant rumble filled the air and Alice sighed. “I think we’re in for a summer storm.” She stood. “We better get the house closed up. Sometimes the wind gets bad.”
Catherine set aside the carrots she was stacking in a basket and gazed out over the river. The sky looked black on the horizon even though the sun overhead beat down relentlessly. “I will bring in the wash,” she said as she rose.
“No, you go see to the windows,” Alice instructed. “Holden gave me strick orders about you and the wash.”
Catherine smiled as she made her way for the door. “I think we’d better see to getting him a wife of his own so he quits picking on us.”
Alice wiped her brow. “Would be nice ta have a passel of young un’s runnin’ around, wouldn’t it?”
Catherine imagined it and smiled. “Yes, especially if it was a second generation of Kents and Blakelys.”
The thunder grew closer. A bolt of lightening sent the women scurrying to complete their jobs before the storm broke.
* * *
Holden held the eyeglass steady as he scanned the far bank. “It’s British troops, all right. About twenty along the river.” He glanced at John and smiled. “Hard to miss them in those damned red coats.”
“‘Bout two hundred reported in Tarrytown,” John added. “Do ya think this bunch will be comin’ here?”
“I don’t know,” Holden stated. He lowered the glass after another look. “We are no threat, but just in case, we’d better see if we can get some men from town out to Devil’s Head.”
“Too bad the captain took so many of his men with him.” John took one more glance across the river and moved with Holden back from the edge of the cliff. “The men in town are gonna want ta protect their own homes.”
“Then we’ll have to make do with the staff.”
The two made their way back the mile to Devil’s Head on horseback. They rode in just ahead of the storm. “This rain will help,” Holden commented as the first drops fell.
“Might even give us ‘til mornin’.”
A lad took the reins of both horses. “Come into the house when you’re done,” Holden instructed. “And bring the others with you.” The boy nodded and turned to his tasks.
Making for the back door, John went in search of his wife as Holden called out to the kitchen help to join him in the foyer within the hour.
“What’s wrong?” Catherine asked, seeing concern on Holden’s face when she entered the kitchen.
Holden sighed heavily. “A small band of British troops are just across the river.” To her own surprise, she took the news well, but she appreciated Holden squeezing her hand reassuringly. “They may not bother us, but we’d best be prepared.”
Catherine took a deep breath. “Tell us what you want us to do.”
“Hopefully I can gather enough men so that none of you women will have to fight. For now, just set someone to watch.” He started to leave and she stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going into town to see who I can get to come here.”
Catherine swallowed hard. “Won’t they want to defend their own property?”
Holden nodded. “Most will, Catherine, but I’m sure I can get a few of the single men.” He opened the door and paused. “We’ll get through this fine, you’ll see.”
“Of course we will,” she stated with conviction as she smiled at the staff present. “I will not let anyone take what belongs to my husband and my son.”
* * *
The afternoon dragged on. The onslaught of the storm increased the tension. Catherine placed a stable boy in the attic of the house to watch for troops. Others were stationed at each side of the house in a second story window. Catherine and Alice went on a raid.
“The cap’n ain’t gonna like us snoopin’ in here,” Alice stated when they entered the library.
“The captain would rather we be in here than those troops,” Catherine explained as she approached the second door. “Unless they have all been moved, there are enough muskets in here to arm us all.”
“You know how to use one?” Alice asked, clearly surprised.
“No,” Catherine admitted. “But John can teach me.” She pulled the door open wide. “Thank God,” she sighed when she spied several boxes. “Some are still here.”
Between the two of them, they dragged out one box along with shot and powder. With everything spread about in the foyer, she sent Alice to fetch John.
Chapter Sixteen
* * *
“Miss Catherine!” a voice called from the top of the stairs. “A boat is comin’ across!”
It took every ounce of Catherine’s courage to walk to the stairs. “How many, Cindy?” she asked, struggling to sound calm.
“Pete said about twenty!”
Catherine glanced at Alice for support. She drew a deep slow breath. It was beginning. She was going to have to take charge. Holden and John had not yet returned. “Have everyone come down,” she instructed. “We are going to have to make our stand together if we are to save the day.” She was obeyed immediately.
“What are we gonna do?” Alice asked, obviously not sure if any one of them could successfully use the muskets.
“I want you to send Peter after Holden and John as soon as he gets down here.” Catherine moved toward the front door. “Post someone at every door around the foyer and find out if anyone knows how to load those guns.” She paused and gazed back at the small room. “Have Cindy and one other stay at the top of the stairs.” She turned to open the front door.
“Where the devil are ya goin’, child?” Alice demanded.
“I’m going to the top of the path. From there I can see whether they go to Nyack or come in this direction.”
Alice raced after her and grabbed her arm. “Be careful, Catherine.”
Catherine smiled, more calm than she thought she would be. “I will be, Alice,” she assured her. “I am no hero. I only want to make sure we get a fair chance.”
Glad the rain had finally stopped, Catherine slipped outside. As she made her way toward the path leading to the river, she could hear laughter from the troops. It seemed to her that if this were a legitimate raiding party, they would be silent. There might be more mischief brewing than anything official.
Hidden in the brush, she watched the small boat make its way across the water. Much to her chagrin, it headed straight for Devil’s Head. She rushed back to the house knowing they had only minutes. Although the troops rowing across were definitely into their cups, they were making fair time crossing.
“They’re coming here,” she announced at the door, pleased to see everyone where she wanted them. There were a few gasps and even one broken sob, but her people were ready. “I know you are all scared. So am I,” she admitted. “But I will not surrender Devil’s Head to them.” She made eye contact with each one of them to help settle their fears. Once satisfied, she went on. “Alice, did you find any of the staff who can load a musket?”
“David here can,” Alice told her.
Catherine nodded for the boy to begin. “Since David will not be able to run from one of us to another, we will only have one shot each.”
“Two if I move fast,” the young stable boy smiled.
“If we are lucky,” Catherine smiled at him. “But we cannot rely on luck.” She addressed the others. “I want each of you to quickly find some other weapon.”
“Like what, Mistress Catherine?” Cindy called down from her perch.
Frowning, Catherine looked about. “Like a knife or a vase. I don’t know, just grab something.”
“How about a skillet?” Alice asked.
“Perfect!” Catherine exclaimed. She sent several of the girls to the kitchen. When the group stood all doubly armed, she stopped to listen. The soldiers were coming up the hill. “I will try to talk to them first. Stay out of sight.” At the door she added, “If you have to fire, make sure you hit what you are aiming at. I don’t want any of you harmed.” She watched as her staff took cover, then she turned.
The front door flew open and Catherine stared at the intruders. In her entire life she had never been so ashamed to be British. Three men were clearly visible. They were in total disarray.
“How dare you enter my home without knocking,” she stated in her best English. “And look at you! You are a disgrace!”
For a moment the men reacted to her tone and accent. They straightened their uniforms, falling over each other in an attempt to be the first to introduce himself.
“Lieutenant Shafer at your service, m’lady!” one saluted smartly.
Wishing she wore one of her better gowns, Catherine stood regally before the trio. “I am Lady Kent. My husband, the viscount, is currently away. What may I do for you?”
“Well, ma’am. Uh, I mean m’lady, we . . . uh . . . we were gonna see if maybe ya . . . you had anything for us ta . . . to . . .”
“What my very inebriated lieutenant is trying to say is we have come for the spoils of war, madam,” came a deep voice from behind the three. They stepped aside at once, revealing the owner. “Major Brown, madam,” he bowed smartly.
Catherine resented the intrusion and, even more, the flagrant insult in his eyes. “You will find nothing here, Major,” she snapped, her chin held defiantly high. Almost a head taller than she, the major moved forward. She flinched as he grinned wickedly, but she went on. “I suggest you take your rabble and leave.”
“I rather thought you might invite my men and myself in. I assure you, it would go much better f
or you if you did.”
“Are you threatening me, Major?” she demanded haughtily.
“No, madam,” he chuckled. “I am making you a promise.”
Catherine nodded curtly and swept her arm in a gesture of invitation.
“Are you here alone?” he asked, taking another step closer.
“No, Major,” she said softly. “My staff is about.”
His eyes quickly scanned the foyer. “And where, pray tell, are they?”
“Here!” Alice called from the door to the kitchen, her musket aimed at one of the soldiers.
“And here!” called Cindy from the stairs, she and Janet balanced their muskets on the banister.
“Here, too!” came more voices.
The major’s head whipped about, clearly figuring the odds. Her people counted eight, but they had cover and room to maneuver. His men were in the open with little more than inches between them.
“My compliments, madam,” the major bowed in Catherine’s direction. “You have planned the defense of your home well.”
“Thank you, Major,” Catherine smiled despite herself. “It was tantamount that I did. You see,” she continued as she backed away from the threat before her, “my husband would be displeased with me if I should let his home fall.”
Amusement played on the major’s face. He shifted his weight to one leg and postured before her. “Your husband is a lucky man, madam, yet not too lucky, I think.”
Before Catherine noticed a thing, the major lashed out and grabbed her wrist. “Take cover!” he roared, diving aside as a volley of musket fire filled the room.
Four men fell. Two more grabbed at injuries, but a full dozen stood ready and able to fight. Fortunately, the liquor they had consumed slowed them. This allowed Catherine’s people to advance with their secondary defense.
Obviously, his men were out-classed, if not outnumbered. The major dragged Catherine hard against him, pulling a knife from his boot to hold it against her throat. “Cease!” he roared. The room quieted by degrees until all were silent. “Throw down your weapons or your mistress will breathe her last.”
The Rebel's Bride Page 18
