Evelyn sucked in a breath of relief that he was supporting her, humiliating as his reaction might be. She was curious to know what made him believe he would not be regarded as a gentleman in these provincial quarters, but that was inconsequential to the matter at hand. Uncle George’s furious explosion burned her ears.
“You have ruined my niece, sir! Were I a younger man, I would call you out for that. As it is, gout prevents me from giving you the thrashing you deserve. Perhaps you think I am powerless in this matter. I can assure you I am not.” Under Hampton’s contemptuous regard, he visibly calmed himself. “Let us be reasonable about this. Evelyn is of excellent and well-respected family here and in England. You may know of the Adrian Wellingtons in Somerset, an old family, high in the king’s favor. She will bring you no shame. Her father left her a rich dowry. The sale of the warehouse will more than double that amount. You have chosen well, and the advantage is all yours.”
Evelyn clenched her fingers around her handkerchief. Uncle George was selling not only her but also her brother’s livelihood! She had always known him to be a fool, but she had not recognized the depths of his treachery. She would not complain if Hampton ran him through with a sword right now.
Unfortunately, she realized Hampton never wore a sword, and she wondered again about his claim of not being a gentleman.
It was impossible to gauge Hampton’s thoughts by his expression. She had never seen him smile, but she was aware he possessed a humor of sorts. Surely a man who owned a ship like the Minerva would not consider her dowry a plum. She could see only the profile of his face, framed by the thick coarseness of his black hair. The muscle over his cheekbone had tightened, but his words were as cool as she could desire.
“You mistake me, Mr. Upton. Miss Wellington’s very respectable family would scream in horror should they hear of her betrothal to me. I cannot imagine you would wish to sell your lovely niece to a rake and a bankrupt. Let us forget this conversation ever came about. I will apologize for being the cause of any rumors. I promise to treat your niece with all due respect in the short time I remain here. I’m certain Miss Wellington’s name and behavior are so far above reproach that no one will lend credence to any further tales.”
Evelyn would have smiled had she not been so fascinated by these revelations. Bankrupt? Even she found that hard to believe. But he was being more than reasonable, and for that she was grateful.
She met Hampton’s appraising glance on her and felt a jolt as his long-lashed eyes darkened, reminding her of their impetuous passion.
The cynicism in his look shook Evelyn more than her uncle’s threats. Surely he did not think she was responsible for this imbroglio! Of all the conceited, arrogant . . . Of course, he did!
Rising before her uncle replied, she straightened her skirts and started toward the door. “I told you that, Uncle George, but you wouldn’t listen to me. You are not being quite rational about this. Will Black saw nothing but what was in his own dirty mind. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve been humiliated enough for one day. Mr. Hampton, are you ready to leave? I’ll accompany you and extend my apologies for this scene.”
Alex rose, scraped a brief bow, and offered his arm. “I sincerely apologize for the trouble I’ve caused you, Miss Wellington,” he said. Taking the crumpled handkerchief from her hand, he wiped her tear-streaked face, ruining his polite apology with his usual carelessness. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
She slapped his hand away at the same time her uncle came to his feet. “I’m not through with you yet, you damnable cur! Evelyn, go on, and I will take care of this.”
She turned and eyed her furious relative with curiosity. “I really cannot understand what you are about, Uncle George. Mr. Hampton has been more than patient, and I’ve already explained everything thrice over. There is nothing more to be said.”
“There is this to be said.” He pointed an accusing finger, looking at Hampton as if he were a bug in his soup. “You and the Minerva will not leave port until my niece is safely wedded. I have had a report that you are carrying illegal brandy. The ship will be impounded and you will be jailed until the matter is settled.”
***
Alex heard Miss Wellington’s startled gasp. He did not turn to her but held his gaze on the wily devil behind the desk. With practiced arrogance he answered coolly, “I need only write Cranville to have the matter settled well above your head. I’d rather spend three months in jail than a lifetime in the prison of marriage.”
He could have left it at that. Upton was turning purple again, and although Alex could sense Evelyn’s tension, she was a lady of rare mettle and uttered no protest. But even if she said nothing, they both knew that the mention of the brandy spelled trouble. Before Upton could burst a blood vessel, Alex continued, “But perhaps if you would give me some time to discuss this with Miss Wellington, we can come to a more amicable conclusion.”
“Evelyn has naught to do with this. This is a matter between the two of us. Let her go on, and we will come to terms.” Regaining control of himself, Upton directed a commanding look to his niece.
Unfortunately, she did not obey but stared at her uncle in incredulity.
“On the contrary, Mr. Upton,” Alex intervened, “marriage has everything to do with Miss Wellington and nothing to do with you. If you will leave us, please, we have a few matters to discuss.”
Patting a handkerchief to his moist brow and adjusting his sliding wig, Upton came out from behind his desk grumbling. “This is unheard-of. I ought to have you thrown in jail immediately. Evelyn, if you give me any trouble over this, I’ll take a switch to you. You will accept his proposal, and that’s an end to it.”
He waddled out, shutting the door hard in irritation.
Alex caught her by the waist before she could flee to the other side of the room. He needed to be reminded that they were in this together. Her startled look at his action reminded him of more interesting things, like the decided kissability of that full mouth now frowning at him.
“Your face will freeze like that,” he scolded, before bending to sample the sweet wine he had decided worth fighting for.
She tried to shove away, but Alex held her firmly. He cupped the back of her head, while his lips sought hers, stifling her gasp. She almost succumbed. He could sense her surrender, her eagerness. Before he could persuade her to more, she turned her head away and shoved against his chest.
“Mr. Hampton, this is serious. Can you think of nothing but your own pleasure?”
“Give me some credit, Miss Wellington.” Alex amused himself by tracing the delicate outer shell of her ear. “I am thinking of your pleasure too. I would hate to see you leg-shackled for life if you could not abide my touch. I am a man who enjoys the physical pleasures in life. I just wish to assure myself that you do not find me repulsive.”
She looked up in shock, then shoved from his grasp. Hands on hips, she glared at him. “I’m glad you’re so nonchalant about this. I trust that means you have some solution to our predicament? If my uncle looks for the brandy in the warehouse, we will both spend time in jail.”
The color was back in her cheeks, and she looked more herself now. Glancing down at the enticing swell of her breasts beneath the respectable black-and-brown plaid of her bodice and imagining the length of lovely leg hidden beneath her skirts, Alex wondered if he were making a mistake in avoiding marriage. He could see coming home to the likes of that for many nights to come, if only she would hold her tongue. He regretted that impossibility.
“You have considered the danger you are in if your uncle truly knows of the smuggling?”
“You say that as if he might be involved. That is ridiculous,” she said with a dismissive gesture. “He’s a loyal officer of his majesty, sworn to uphold the law, and proud of his position. He’s simply making trouble. It’s not unusual.”
She said it bravely enough, but Alex heard the hint of doubt in her voice. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he answered cynica
lly. “You had better consider the possibility before we make any hasty decisions.”
“What is there to decide? Marriage is impossible, you know that. Why can’t you just board the Minerva and sail away? He cannot stop you.”
Alex had to admit that the rejection stung. He knew she was simply getting even with him for his earlier dismissal of marriage, but a little deceit on her part would have been less hazardous to his masculinity.
Implacably, he led her toward the only solution. “I cannot sail for the same reason you did not tell your uncle to go hang himself. We are in this together. It is imperative to both of our livelihoods that we find the smugglers, and we’ll both be useless if we’re in prison.”
She watched him warily. “I’m not certain marriage is any solution. For all I know of you, you may already be married.”
He almost smiled at the well-deserved insult. “You can be assured that I never considered that degree of respectability. Perhaps when I write to my family of our proposed betrothal I should ask them to reply with a character reference. It should be very amusing to hear their opinion of me.”
“Proposed betrothal? I will do what is necessary to keep us from jail, but be assured I will not consider so much as a proposal, and certainly not a betrothal.”
“You have such a soothing way with words, Miss Wellington. Or shall I call you Evelyn, under the circumstances? If you are any more agreeable, I will be tempted to leave you with your uncle’s wrath and do as you suggest and sail away.”
“I cannot see any other solution,” she replied irritably, stalking to the far end of the room to glare out the window.
“It’s quite simple, Miss Wellington. Unless you harbor a tendre for someone who will be quite heartbroken at your abrupt change of heart, we agree to this marriage your uncle is so eager to carry out. Have you any idea exactly why he is so eager to see us wedded?”
She turned and eyed him with disfavor. “I daresay he hopes you will haul me off to England where I won’t embarrass him anymore. When my father was alive, he could say nothing, but ever since my father died, he has been trying to run my life. I won’t have it, Mr. Hampton. I won’t marry just to make him happy.”
“I should hope not,” Alex agreed, sitting on the edge of the desk and crossing his arms. Her dark hair shone with glints of red and gold in the sunlight, a most attractive shade, he decided. But the sun at her back cast her face in shadow, and he could not read her expression.
He couldn’t tell if she had considered what would happen to her warehouse under someone else’s management if she married and left for England. “We will only agree to the marriage,” he explained. “We need not go through with it. A long betrothal is called for under the circumstances, would you not agree? And when we have our villains behind bars, we will have a violent disagreement—not at all out of character, considering our natures—and you will throw me out on my ear. I shall sail away, never to be seen again. Will that work?”
***
Evelyn considered it. She disliked dishonesty, but she could tell the deceit didn’t bother this . . . rake . . . at all. She also disliked the idea of being constantly in his company, which this specious engagement would entail. Still, she had to admit, it would also make it easier for them to work together.
She looked up to where he sat carelessly swinging his leg from the edge of the desk. He didn’t seem concerned about her decision. His striking masculinity made it difficult to think logically. She could not imagine why an arrogant London gentleman like Alexander Hampton would even consider pretending to be betrothed to a nonentity like her.
Returning to the Persian carpet in front of the desk, Evelyn regarded him quizzically. He was really too rude-looking to be called handsome in the conventional sense. He certainly didn’t have a pleasant demeanor. His mouth was more likely to be turned up in a sneer than in humor. Those blasted eyes always hinted of mockery, even now when he sat calmly under her perusal. She would like to shake his self-assurance just a little, but he was far more likely to shake hers.
“Tell me, Mr. Hampton, just exactly what is a rake?”
He met her gaze with equanimity. “A rake is a man who overindulges in all the vices. The name is Alexander, Miss Wellington, or Alex, if you prefer.”
“All the vices? That must be time-consuming, and very expensive. Are you truly a rake?”
He sighed in exasperation, uncrossed his arms, and stood up, towering over her by nearly a head and dwarfing her with his greater breadth, a physical intimidation that probably worked well on most people. She’d learned better.
“Be assured, Miss Wellington,” he replied in a seductive baritone, “I am not known for my temperance. A long betrothal to me could very well ruin your reputation, should mine become known. That will give us greater incentive to finish the job quickly.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “Do the vices a rake indulges in include lying and stealing, Mr. Hampton?”
“No, and not murder either, although I’m willing to make exceptions. Are you going through with this or do you wish to see me languish in jail?”
His impatience oddly pleased her, and she smiled. “As amusing as it might be to see you behind bars, it might be preferable to keep you from corrupting our criminal elements. Generally, they overindulge in only one vice at a time.”
He looked startled when he realized she was laughing at him. He raised one eyebrow in his loftiest manner. “Does that mean we are betrothed, Miss Wellington?”
“Oh, certainly. Why not? I have never been betrothed to a rake and a bankrupt before. I am certain my reputation can only be enhanced when I display my excellent taste in choosing you. Shall I have to see you very often when we are officially affianced?”
His fingers closed about her nape. “Every night, my dear, until I teach you respect. Don’t you think that’s fair?”
His mouth closed over hers, and Evelyn shut her eyes and gave herself up to the kiss. It was a reckless, mad thing to do, but she wanted it, and it seemed only fitting to seal this insane betrothal with an equally insane kiss. Besides, she doubted that she could deny him if she tried.
His lips were strong across hers, knowledgeable and demanding. He knew what he wanted, and as his dark head dipped to extend his claim, Evelyn grabbed his shoulder to balance herself, succumbing to the tempest he aroused in her. She was almost relieved when the furious knock came at the door.
Upton threw open the door without waiting for a reply, catching them with their heads together. Behind him, his wife and daughter gasped in shock.
“That’s not fair! You wouldn’t even let me go down to the wharf to see him, and you leave her alone in there with him all she likes! You don’t want me to even have a chance.” Petulantly Frances glared at her father, then fled.
Mr. Hampton chuckled, but when Evelyn glanced at him with suspicion, he looked as solemn as ever. A slow flush colored her cheeks at her aunt’s shocked stare, and she realized the dratted man had not yet released her. As if he were divining her thoughts, his fingers closed tighter around her waist, keeping her close to his side.
“Evelyn has done me the honor of accepting my proposal. There is only one obstacle, and that is a mere formality. Since I am his heir, I must notify my cousin, the Earl of Cranville, and receive his approval before taking any vows. Not to do so would offend him, and he is quite capable of disinheriting me and leaving me with nothing but his title. A man of your consequence can understand my position, Upton, can you not?” The mockery in his voice dared an officer of the crown to challenge him.
Evelyn nearly strangled at his revelation. An earl! Cousin to a damned bloody earl! Lud, but she’d be drummed off the streets of Boston when they heard this. Heir to an earldom? Maybe he was lying. He had said his vices didn’t include lying, but a liar could say that with impunity. She glared, and Hampton shrugged unapologetically.
Her uncle looked thunderstruck to learn of Hampton’s rank. Rather than relieve his shock, Evelyn smiled up at her fiancé with the
sweetest, most insipid expression she could muster. “The Earl of Cranville? Does that mean I will be a countess? I have so wished for a title.”
They said revenge was sweet, and she savored it as Alex’s arrogant expression soured with her simpers. She displayed her scorn by acting the part of her cousin Frances, behaving just as her uncle expected. From the look on his face, Evelyn assumed she played the role well.
“Quite right, my dear. Someday you shall be a countess.” Grimacing, Mr. Hampton turned to her uncle, who looked stunned.
Her aunt, at least, had the decency to look concerned.
Mr. Hampton addressed her. “The time it takes for my cousin’s approval to reach us should be sufficient for your niece and I to become better acquainted, don’t you agree? We needn’t make the betrothal official until then.”
Her aunt clenched her hands anxiously. “This is rather hasty, isn’t it, George? I do believe the young man is correct.”
The promise of an earldom in the family was too much temptation to resist. Upton nodded reluctantly. “We will make no formal announcement, just let it be known that a betrothal has my approval. That should be sufficient for now.” He gave Hampton a warning frown. “Your ship will still not be allowed to sail with you on it.”
“I wouldn’t think of going anywhere without my own dear Evelyn.” Alex chucked her under the chin.
Chapter 5
August 1765
Wearing an expensive silk habit of silver gray, an embroidered vest of black on black, and a powdered cadogan wig tied with a black satin solitaire, and pinned in front with a diamond, Alexander Hampton appeared every inch the noble dandy he purported to be. Evelyn wished she could jerk his snowy cravat, kick his elegant silk stockings, and send him crashing down the majestic staircase they had just ascended.
As was befitting the almost-fiancée to an heir to an earldom, she had been feted by the elite of Boston these last weeks. She had grown weary of pressing and cleaning her only two decent ball gowns, of talking of the delights of the “home country” with Tories who hadn’t seen England in years, and of being looked upon with suspicion by people she had once considered her friends. The tasks of managing her family’s business all day and dancing all night had drained her energy and left her nerves at the breaking point. Again she glanced at her partner with venom as he graciously greeted their host. She was quite convinced he was more liar than heir.
Rebel Dreams Page 5
