Even with the mask covering his nose and half of his forehead, I could tell that he was more than handsome. There was an intensity to him, and when he smiled, I felt it in every nerve of my body. I took a step back. He still had my hands clasped between us as he took a step forward. I took another step back, and my legs bumped against the bed.
In a skilled movement, he knocked my foot out from beneath me with his own and I tumbled backward, landing on George’s soft mattress. I struggled to get up, but his arm came across my chest, holding me pinned in place.
My breaths came in short, fast intakes, but as I looked into his eyes my panic melted away. He did not have the look of an attacker, neither was he doing more than staring at me. I could defeat him.
Our gazes remained locked as his free hand fished in his pocket, and he brought a white handkerchief up and rubbed it against first one of my cheeks and then the other.
“Just so,” he murmured, and his warm mouth was upon mine in a breath-halting embrace.
It was the kiss of an expert, of that I was left with no doubts. His mouth moved over mine until my lips parted. Warm, firm, possessive; he was the master of the situation. It took me a few heartbeats to react, but react I did. I threw my fist against his side.
He groaned against my mouth and pulled back, smiling. He had an alluring smile, another thing I found annoying. His finger came up and stroked my cheek. He pushed off the bed and moved to the door. I sat up, leaning against my elbows on the bed and watched him open the door. He cast me a quizzical look then went out, slamming the door behind him.
By the time I grabbed my pistol—he had stolen the other one,—and went to the door, he was gone. I did not know where he went or how he moved so swiftly or what he was doing in George’s house, but I knew that I did not want to be there any longer. I ran down the stairs, pulled off my mask, and slipped out the front door.
When I finally reached my house and went up the back stairs, I was fuming. Why had I not done more? I could have bested him.
No, I could not. I knew the truth, and it only added to my anger.
We were to attend a party that evening, so when I reached my chamber, I pulled the bell for Mariah and threw off my hat and boots in angry, jerky movements. I ordered a hot bath, and when it was ready, I stepped in and sank down until the water was to my chin. I remained in the tub for some time thinking about a pair of stormy eyes and a foe that deserved to be beat.
***
When we arrived at the Harvey’s house for a dinner party, Andrew greeted me warmly, bringing relief to my troubled mind. I had not been able to put the startling and unfortunate events of the day out of my thoughts until I was standing beside him. Edith had said it would be a small party, but the table was set for twenty persons; not as small as I had thought.
A few minutes later, Guinevere entered with Richard, and as soon as they separated, I watched Jack go to her. Even from across the room, I could see her shake her head and turn her back to him, speaking instead with Thomas and Dudley.
Jack looked so hurt that I wanted to claw Guinevere’s eyes out for treating him like that. But, when Jack moved away, Guinevere turned, and her eyes followed him with so much hurt and longing that I knew it had all been Richard’s doing. She loved Jack as much as he loved her.
At dinner, they were seated beside each other, much to Richard’s chagrin, but from my place across the table between Dudley and Thomas, I noted that they did not exchange above twenty words throughout the meal. Jack would try to speak to her. Her eyes would move immediately to Richard, and she would say something or shake her head and turn to the man to her left.
The entire day had been almost too much for me, with the run-in I had had at George’s, and then seeing my brother’s anguish and knowing there was nothing I could do, I needed a reprieve. When they women left the dining parlor, I did not join them in the drawing room but walked up the stairs to the large, elegant landing. I sat upon a red settee in the small alcove with my thoughts moving a thousand miles a minute.
“Elizabeth,” a smooth, deep voice said, and I started, nearly leaping off the settee.
Andrew smiled. “I do apologize for startling you. May one hope to have been the cause of such deep contemplation?” It was meant as a light jest, but it carried the needed jolt. I stood reaching out and took Andrew’s hand. Without thinking of anything but needing some air and a moment of quiet, I lead him up the stairs to the third floor. Andrew followed without a word until we were passing the maid’s bedchambers. He asked where I was taking him.
“You shall see,” was all I replied as I lead the way into the attic.
“My dear Elizabeth, should I be worried?”
I laughed though it sounded rather overwrought to my ears. In the attic, there was a ladder that led up a few steps to a door. I pushed open the door and climbed through.
Edith and I had spent many evenings on the roof stargazing when we were younger, but it was not for that that I taken Andrew up there. I truly did not have a reason other than needing air and not being able to get it by standing on the front steps of the house. The air was cleaner on the roof, and the view was magnificent. The roof was flat, so it was easy to walk, and when we were both standing at the edge breathing in the crisp night air, I spoke.
“Edith and I used to come up here before she left for the seminary, before the war,” I told Andrew as I stared at the lights that could be seen of the city from illuminated houses or street lamps. Even the Delaware River could be seen in the distance.
“Yes, the seminary.” He turned to look at me. “The place where we first met.”
“Twice you have rescued me from intended capture,” I replied, thoughtfully. I still was not sure about the second attack on me. We had captured the men of the black carriage, but that did not mean that Richard would not send out more. But, if that were so, I would have to consider the possibility that Richard knew my identity. It was unfathomable. Surely he would have struck against me if he did know. He had had ample opportunities.
“I would do so again though I pray that the need will never arise,” Andrew assured me.
With Andrew staring at me and the world feeling miles away, I could envision my life with him. Comfort and protection. The security that I had desired for years. To be loved and valued. To be a wife and one day a mother. I would give up everything else for it to come true. Jack could carry on the Phantoms, or if not him, one of the others. Married to Andrew, freedom would be mine.
Andrew’s head lowered a fraction, but paused, hovering over my lips. “May I?” he asked huskily.
Slowly, intimately, I nodded. As Andrew eliminated the distance between us and our lips met, anticipation danced in my belly. His arm wrapped around my waist, and my hands moved to his shoulders. His mouth was roving over mine, his hands moving along my waist, when a horrible comparison sprang to mind.
No!
I did not want to think about that, but it was too late. The comparison had come, and what I discovered I did not like. Andrew went on kissing me, but I was doing nothing but standing there. He broke the kiss for a moment before capturing my mouth again in a heated, hard, wet kiss. I shoved everything else from my mind and wrapped my arms around his neck. There.
Ten minutes later, when Andrew and I were making our way down the stairs, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Elizabeth, I want you to know that I do not take what has transpired between us lightly. I await only a reply from my family before I approach your brother for his blessing.”
He had said it. It was out there, and I knew I could ask for no better man. He left me in the hall so I could go down the main stairs alone with all propriety intact, while he went down the back stairs.
When Mother, Jack, and I left the Harvey’s, I was sure of my feelings. I wanted to marry Andrew.
We arrived home, and Arnaud was there to greet us. “Miss Elizabeth, there was a gentleman here to see you.” I looked around, but Arnaud told me that the visitor had left an hour earlier. “He
asked that I give you this. He would not give his name; insisted that you would know.”
“Of course. Thank you, Arnaud.” I took the heavy brown paper parcel that he held out to me, bid my mother and Jack a good night, and ran up the stairs to my bedchamber.
Seated before my desk, I tore away brown paper to reveal a box. As I lifted the lid, my heart jumped, and all my happy feelings fell away. There was a sealed letter lying atop a pistol. My pistol! Grabbing my letter opener, I tore through the wax seal.
My dear Raven, the letter began, and my heart started to beat an untimely rhythm.
My apologies for not introducing myself earlier, but as you were trying to put a period to my existence, introductions seemed the least of my worries. If I had known that you have such spirit, I would have come to Philadelphia much sooner. I regret, and oh, how I do regret it, that we shall not be able to meet again, for, by the time you receive this message, I will be on my way home. Know that I enjoyed our little interlude, and I look forward to when our paths should cross again.
Ever your faithful chevalier,
Joutaine
As I lowered the letter, my face was aflame in indignation and remembrance. That dog! I crushed the letter into a ball. That roguish dog was none other than a Phantom leader; George’s nephew Samuel Mason.
Instead of throwing the letter across the room as I longed to do, I unlocked my desk and placed the letter in a book. I would keep it, and when the time came, if it ever did that I met with Samuel Mason again, I would give him the letter along with a resounding slap for his audacity. He knew that I was Raven, and yet he still behaved atrociously. Not at all as a leader should.
I did not know why Samuel Mason had been searching George’s house, but at the moment, it did not matter. I had more important thoughts to occupy my mind, and I would not waste another moment upon an up-to-no-good rogue––no matter how well he could kiss.
Chapter 22
Jack
The morning of the fourth day of July dawned frosty and chilly, but the gray overcast could not stop the excitement of the day. After breakfast, Andrew arrived. He had said he would only be staying for a few weeks, but my sister had changed that. Something happened to them at the Harvey’s party; I did not know what, but their formality ceased, and they were behaving more like a betrothed couple. Since I had not been approached with an offer for her hand, I had questioned Bess. As she blushed, which she never did before Andrew, she told me that Andrew was only awaiting a letter from his family before he approached me.
Andrew was to escort my mother and sister to Centre Square to hear the celebratory speeches; then later he would join me as the festivities livened.
Andrew and I were standing in the foyer while I was putting on my hat, when Bess appeared at the top of the stairs. She was dressed festively in a long, blue coat with military style fastenings, and her hat had a white ribbon with some small red flowers. Her brown eyes were fastened on Andrew as she made her descent, and I swear, I heard his breath come out in a low whistle. Seeing them, the way they stared at each other, General Harvey had to be mistaken. Andrew was in love with my sister and she, well, she was on her way. Bess may have been taller than the average woman, but next to Andrew she was perfect. When my mother joined us, we set out.
When we reached Centre Square, the place was alive with activity. Tents were thrown open with displays inside, and the more affluent citizens had tables spread with an array of food and drink for their friends. The captain of the horse guards was lining up his men, and in the background rose the white marble pump house. It was a square building with a large, round, water tank on top. Until last year, water was drawn from the Schuylkill River at the Chestnut Street pump house, and then pumped to a sufficient height so that it could flow by gravity through a tunnel to Centre Square. Those who paid water rent and constructed a connecting pipe could have water delivered directly into their homes as we had. There were too many issues with the steam engine that pumped the water, so last year; this pump house was shut down, and the new Fairmount water works now distributed the water.
It was my first year attending this celebration in Philadelphia, but Dudley assured me it was not to be missed. I needed some sort of amusement that would help to take my mind from Guinevere.
After she gave me the cut direct at the Harvey’s party, I set out to show her that whatever Richard had told her was a lie, but she would have none of me. I was turned away from her house every day without a glimpse of her. I did not know how much more of the separation I could take. It felt as if my heart had been torn from my chest, cut in two and then only half returned. Guinevere held the other half, and I was afraid that until I made her my wife, I would not feel whole.
I stood beside my mother as the speeches were given, my eyes always searching the crowd for a fiery head and a pair of purple eyes. After the band played, my mother and Bess bid me goodbye, and I set off in search of friends, food, and fire water; not necessarily in that order.
As I walked through the crowd, there were men and women at tables with petitions, people selling goods, men dressed in military uniforms telling stories about the war, and some men already boisterous from generously flowing ale. I stopped beneath a picture of George Washington that was hung from the top of a tent. The nation’s flag swayed in the wind above the portrait, reminding me of why we celebrated and why I was a Phantom.
The last year had been spent trying to recover from the war to rise above the losses, the destruction, and become a better united nation.
The strange behavior of the weather was making recovery difficult. Some called it a purging of the nation after so much blood had been shed, and so much anger had been exchanged. On this day, a day that should have been hot and the dangers of disease rife, the weather was like what would be expected in April.
“John!”
I turned to find a group of my friends advancing upon me with Dudley at the center. We spent a few hours laughing as we watched some of our friends participate in the strong man games that were offered by the owners of a traveling carnival. It was dusk when we sat down to dinner. Andrew still had not returned, not that I blamed him.
Most of the men were well and truly drunk, as they started toasting the reigning beauties. I could hold my wine better than most, my father having schooled me at a young age how to hold my liquor.
Every night for a week, my father, forced me to partake of strong spirits until my tolerance was high. I was only twelve at the time, but my father was adamant, saying that to hold one’s liquor was important to a spy, for one would never know when that skill would come in useful. I looked around me and examined my friends’ actions. There were chucklers, thinking everything was humorous; swearers, damning everything and everyone; high-lows, one minute being jolly and the next ready to fight; and then there were mopers. Dudley was a moper.
One chap by the name of Philip, who was a chuckler, raised his glass, saying, “To Dudley’s lament.” Laughter rolled down the table, but they were not finished. Philip started to sing, and after a moment, the others joined in.
“When first a babe upon the knee, My mother us’d to sing to me.
I caught the accents from her tongue, And e’er I talk’d I lisp’d in song.
I’m little Bess the Ballad singer
I’m little Bess
I’m little Bess
I’m little Bess the Ballad singer.”
They broke off in shouts of laughter, and I could not help but laugh along. I was thankful Andrew was not there.
Dudley jumped up; red faced, shouting, “You will not be-smirch my ff-air ff-lower's nn-ame! Nn-ame your ss-seconds.”
I pushed Dudley down to a chair, laughing. “My sister will never marry you if you are to create scandal by fighting over her fair name.”
“Sh-ee will not marry me, regardless-ss, and it is-ss all the fault of that damn Madis-son,” grumbled Dudley as he slouched in the chair. “He prom-issed. He ss-said I sh-should have her if I would ss-urrender
her fortune.” Dudley leaned on the arm of the chair, sinking his chin onto his hand.”
Philip directed a question to me, “Why not give your consent and allow the man to marry?”
Another fellow shouted from down the table, “Because, I would not be able to marry her.”
Ignoring the others, I sat beside Dudley, asking quietly, “Who said you should have her?”
“That pp-uffed up pp-eacock,” replied Dudley, his brows knit together in a scowl.
Of all that is holy! “What is the name of the peacock?” I asked, needing to hear it from Dud.
Dudley’s eyes moved toward me, and then his body shifted to lean on the other arm of the chair near me. “Your ff-uture ff-ather.”
Murderous rage was racing through me, but I kept my voice level as I asked, “When was this?”
Dudley stared at the men down the table laughing and drinking and did not reply.
“When did Richard promise that you should marry Bess?”
Dudley sighed and closed his eyes. “It does not matter. My hope is dashed; my dream is gone. My dove has found a new man to love,” Dudley whispered in perfect clarity.
My anger grew rampant. There was no end to Richard’s vice. I blamed Dudley not at all. All blame lay at Richard’s feet. To make Dudley such an offer, knowing that Dudley would never refuse as his love for Bess outweighed everything else was, to me, a crime that could never be forgiven. My thoughts turned to Guinevere, causing my hands to ball into fists. The thought of Richard threatening her made my blood boil to a nearly uncontrollable degree. Well, things would change tomorrow. I was going to find her in the morning, and I would not leave until she promised to marry me. I would see her well away from Richard if I had to destroy the man.
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