by Louise Clark
“I gave as good as I got,” Andrew said as he touched the bruise high on his cheek along with a black eye that couldn’t be missed. He’d noticed curious looks aimed his way all morning. Fletcher was the first to make mention of it though. “There were two of them, however, so they were able to land a few blows.” The ache in his ribs testified to that.
Turnbull’s expression darkened. “What did you do to cause Strand to waylay you?”
Andrew drew a deep breath. Not many people knew he’d been courting Mary Elizabeth. He wasn’t sure he wanted to circulate the news to all and sundry, but it wasn’t a secret either. “I asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Turnbull’s brows flew up again and his eyes brightened. “I had no idea! She’s a pretty young woman and a kind one too, I think. My congratulations to you, but I take it Strand turned you down, if setting his lackeys on you is any indication.”
“He did,” Andrew said, nodding gloomily.
Turnbull looked from Andrew to Ron, then moved a little closer and lowered his voice. “Did you see the fellow in uniform who followed Strand into church?”
Andrew and Ron nodded. Turnbull moved even closer. “He is a colonel of dragoons, I heard. He and his regiment arrived in Boston town less than a se'nnight ago. He’s here, I’m told, to keep the peace, and Strand is mighty familiar with him. His father is a nob, they say. A member of the government and a friend of Strand’s father-by-marriage, the earl.”
Andrew listened to this with grim dismay. The unnamed colonel was just the sort of man Strand wanted for his daughter. Was that why she had entered the church on the colonel’s arm? Why she didn’t look his way as she passed his pew? Was the colonel with the Strands because he had come to Lexington to court Mary Elizabeth with the full approval of her father? Panic at the thought tied Andrew’s stomach into knots.
He shifted uneasily, turning so that he could watch the door where Mr. Turner chatted cheerfully with his parishioners as they emerged from the church. As the queue slowly moved through the door and out into the churchyard, Andrew cursed inwardly at the reverend’s friendly nature and his willingness to converse with each of his parishioners in turn.
Finally, George Strand stepped out of the dimly lit church, his wife beside him. He stood in front of the minister, his back straight, his expression haughty. Lady Elizabeth said something to the reverend, then they both stepped aside. Mary Elizabeth and the colonel appeared in the doorway and paused. With the dark interior behind, the outdoor light shone upon them, a handsome couple linked together. Her hand was on the officer’s arm and there was a small smile on her face. The colonel’s proud military bearing seemed to claim the woman beside him, while the expression on his face was one of smug satisfaction.
As they hovered in the doorway, the babble of voices in the churchyard died down as though the interest of the entire congregation was fixated on the young, handsome pair. The knot in Andrew’s stomach tightened, for Mary Elizabeth and her colonel resembled a couple emerging from church on their wedding day.
George Strand gestured toward them, urging them forward, as he said something to Mr. Turner. The minister looked surprised, then he smiled in a congratulatory way and patted Mary Elizabeth’s hand as he spoke to her.
Andrew’s heart sank. The colonel wasn’t in Lexington to court Mary Elizabeth. The decision had already been made. He was here to marry her.
Chapter 3
Mary Elizabeth blinked as she and Colonel Jonathan Bradley emerged from the cool dimness of St. James Church. She had spent most of the service forming sentences, tearing them apart, then reforming them in a vain effort to put together a speech that would convey to Andrew that she still loved him and was simply trying to placate her beast of a father.
After a day and night sequestered in her room with only the necessities of water and a little bread to take the edge off the worst of her hunger, Mary Elizabeth’s mood was bleak.
When her mother tapped on her door at sunrise that morning Mary Elizabeth had already been awake. Lady Elizabeth hadn’t bothered to wait for her to give permission to enter. Instead, she opened the door and swept inside. There was a smile on her lips, but no light of laughter in her eyes. “Have you decided what you will wear to church this morning, my dear?”
Mary Elizabeth had opened her mouth to reply, but her mother waved her hand dismissively. “The pale blue muslin with the underskirt figured with spring flowers, I think.” She flung open the door to Mary Elizabeth’s wardrobe and found the articles of clothing. Scrutinizing them, she’d nodded decisively. “Yes, exactly what the day requires. Not overly ostentatious, but flattering to your coloring. Such perfect stitching, as well. The gown is beautifully made and the fabric is of the finest quality.”
Mary Elizabeth had sat up in bed, staring at her mother in consternation. “But that gown requires panniers, Mama.”
The gown was one of Mary Elizabeth’s fancier garments. Panniers were a frame-like structure worn around the hips and used to push out the skirts on either side of the body. Wearing them made movement awkward, forcing a woman to be very aware of her surroundings, since it was very easy to knock against nearby objects or people. They were all the rage in fashionable society, but impractical for everyday activities, so Mary Elizabeth rarely wore them.
“Yes,” Lady Elizabeth had said, contemplating the gown. “A simple, dark-blue ribbon around your throat for decoration, I think. That will set off the sash at the waist.”
Her words pulled Mary Elizabeth out of her personal nightmare and caused her to focus on her mother. She realized that Lady Elizabeth was dressed in a gown of rose silk, with a richly brocaded underskirt of pale cream. And she was wearing panniers. Her stomach did a little flip and she’d had to swallow hard. “Mama, we are attending church this morning, are we not? You have always said that when we attend services, we are worshipping God, not attending a ball. Surely, there is no need for such extreme finery?”
Lady Elizabeth had turned to face her daughter, her expression austere. “Your father has specifically asked that you look your best. We have a visitor he wishes to impress.” She’d swept toward the door without waiting for a reply. Her hand on the knob, she’d paused and looked back at Mary Elizabeth. Though her features were set, their expression implacable, there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “I will send my maid to help you dress. She will be here to carry out my orders. You will not protest her dictates. Is that understood?”
“No! Mama, what is going on?”
“You will obey, Mary Elizabeth,” was all her mother had said, before she left the room, closing the door with quiet finality.
Mary Elizabeth had discovered her father’s plans at breakfast an hour later. Her hair had been artfully arranged to show off her large brown eyes, heart-shaped face, and delicate chin. The blue ribbon had been tied around her slender neck, the pale blue gown emphasizing her creamy complexion and dark hair. Though she loved the gown, she hated the cumbersome panniers, which forced her to take small, careful steps as she negotiated the narrow staircase and the doorway to the breakfast room.
Her father’s visitor was an officer, one Colonel Bradley, who had recently arrived from England. His features were hard, but he smiled at her warmly when they were introduced. Breakfast had been a polite affair but had reminded Mary Elizabeth of the fashionable dinners she had attended when her father had sent her back to England for a London Season in a vain attempt to secure her a husband. Everyone was pleasant enough, but there was an undercurrent that flowed through every conversation, as if they all thought she was a mere country cousin and not up to snuff.
Mary Elizabeth’s stomach was in knots throughout the meal. Though she’d joined the conversation when asked direct questions, she hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to their chatter. She was polite, she smiled at all the right moments, but her mind had been focused on what she would say to Andrew.
She couldn’t break with him. She wouldn’t do it. Andrew was the finest man s
he had ever known. He was held in high regard by the community here in Lexington. He respected others. He did not jump to snap judgments, but considered options. He was intelligent and caring, and oh, so fun to be with. Just being in his presence filled her with a passion she had never experienced before. He completed her. She would be lost without him.
After breakfast, as they had prepared to make their way out to the waiting coach that would take them to the church, her father caught her arm, holding her back.
“You remember your duty, Mary Elizabeth. You will break with Byrne today. If you do not…the consequences will be severe.”
“Papa, surely you cannot mean this.”
His icy gaze did not waver. “I have never been more determined, daughter. Andrew Byrne is not for you and you will tell him so. Do I make myself clear?”
She searched his eyes for some inkling of kindness or regret that she could latch onto, but all she could see was cold condescension. “Yes, Papa.”
And now she was standing in the doorway of the church and the moment she must break with Andrew was upon her. The service hadn’t been long enough to tame the emotional chaos in her mind. She drew a deep breath to help steel herself for the role she must play. To rescue herself, to save the love she felt for Andrew, she would have to pretend, and she’d never been very good at that.
Somehow, she would have to come up with the words that would satisfy her mother and father and yet convey to Andrew that she needed to speak with him in private so that she could explain herself. She pasted a smile on her face, one that was supposed to look relaxed and happy, and hoped that Andrew—and everyone else—would see through it and understand.
Beside her, the colonel patted her hand in a way that seemed disturbingly possessive for a gentleman she had only just met. When they rose from the pew at the end of the service he had bowed elegantly to her and asked her if she would do him the honor of allowing him to escort her from the church. As her mother had put her hand on her father’s arm Mary Elizabeth had little option but to agree. Colonel Bradley smiled and placed her hand on his arm, with all the reverence of a gentleman for a lady he had special feelings for. But that was absurd. No one could discover love in an instant. She had no choice but to smile back, though, if she was to play the part she’d given herself. As they strolled down the aisle she nodded to whatever he was saying to her, all the while wondering desperately how to alert Andrew to the disastrous situation she was now in.
With the sunlight warm on her face, she scanned the crowd in the churchyard, searching for Andrew. Her heart leapt as she spotted him under a tree speaking with his friend, Mr. Ronald Aiken. That was unfortunate, as Mr. Aiken was another young man her father disparaged as a damned rebel, and no friend of England’s. Seeing Andrew with Mr. Aiken would do his cause no good in her father’s eyes.
Reverend Turner said her name, bringing her back into the moment. “Miss Strand, how delightful to see you this fine morning. And Colonel Bradley, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. How long will you be staying with Mr. and Mrs. Strand?”
“Lady Elizabeth,” George Strand said sharply. “May I remind you, Reverend Turner, that my dear wife is the daughter of the Earl of Alesford.”
Since Mama never bothered flaunting her aristocratic connections and Papa wasn’t in Lexington all that often, the minister was very properly flustered by this admonishment. “Indeed, sir. My very great apologies, Lady Elizabeth.”
Mama waved her hand in that airy way she had, bestowing a warm smile on the minister. “It is no matter, Reverend Turner.”
Papa frowned at this exchange. Mary Elizabeth saw a reprimand coming and quaked at the possibility. When her father was in a rage, his words could cut with the precision of a sharply honed sword.
Colonel Bradley saved the moment by answering the minister’s question. “I am here for several days, perhaps a se’nnight or more, Reverend Turner. I hope within that time to be able to make a very happy announcement.”
As he glanced at Mary Elizabeth at the end of that statement, no one in their little group could help but understand his meaning. Her father nodded, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Her mother lowered her eyes, carefully avoiding the minister’s gaze. Mary Elizabeth herself stared at the colonel, horrified.
Reverend Turner’s eyebrows rose, though he smiled politely. He was one of those who looked favorably on Andrew’s courtship of her. He must have been surprised by the colonel’s announcement. “Indeed! How very unexpected. I look forward to being one of the first to hear your news.”
Her father inclined his head as though he was a king bestowing a favor. “Indeed.”
“Come darling,” her mother said in a breezy tone. “Let us go and greet our friends.” She smiled at the colonel. “I must spirit my daughter away, Colonel Bradley. My deepest apologies.”
Mary Elizabeth withdrew her hand from the colonel’s arm. Her heart was pounding so hard she missed whatever Bradley said to her. Her mother linked arms with her and moved them both away from the doorway.
“Mama,” Mary Elizabeth said, feeling faint. “I…I can’t…”
“You can and will.” A fleeting look of sorrow crossed her features before it was replaced with her usual friendly expression. “You have no choice, Mary Elizabeth. Be kind to your young man, but be swift and clear,” she whispered, even as she waved and smiled at an approaching matron. “Why, Mrs. Yonge, how delightful to see you. How is your dear mother? Feeling better these days, I hope?”
Mary Elizabeth wanted to shake her head at her mother’s ability to smile and converse while they were in the middle of an emotional crisis. Indeed, her mother could have made a grand actress of the stage.
Their progress through the churchyard was necessarily slow as Elizabeth paused every few feet to speak to neighbors and acquaintances. Even though they were fairly new to the Lexington area, Lady Elizabeth had wasted little time in creating a large social circle around herself. George Strand might be roundly disliked, but few found fault with Lady Elizabeth.
Or her daughter. Mary Elizabeth knew that she was accepted in this community and that Andrew’s friends all approved of a marriage between them. That made today’s action doubly hard. She would be cutting herself off from not just Andrew, but from the friends she had made here. For that reason, every one of these small social visits was a blessing to cling to, while postponing the inevitable.
But she could put off the dreaded conversation for only so long. The crowd in the churchyard had thinned as parishioners made their way to their carriages, or set off to walk home. It was impossible to avoid Andrew now for he was heading toward her, his stride determined. She watched him come, enjoying the way he moved with such supple strength, but she frowned as he neared, for his beloved face was bruised and swollen.
She turned to her mother. “What happened to Andrew?” Fury ripped through her, for she thought she already knew the answer. “Was this Papa’s doing?”
“Your father did not lay a hand on Mr. Byrne,” her mother said calmly, though her eyes were watchful.
“Did Papa tell you of this?”
She said carefully, “Your father mentioned that he’d heard Mr. Byrne had been beset by footpads.”
Mary Elizabeth saw the resignation in her mother’s eyes. She knew the explanation for it what it was—an excuse. There were no bands of robbers working the area. If there had been, she would have heard of it, since keeping the town safe was of great concern to Andrew and his friends. He would have mentioned it to her.
“Was Papa behind this?” She kept her voice low, but there was furious demand in it, nonetheless.
Her mother shrugged. “Darling, please. This is not the time, nor the place for such a discussion. Mr. Byrne is fine, as you can see. You must do what your father has requested of you today.”
Anger made Mary Elizabeth’s cheeks heat. Requested? Her father had ordered her to break with Andrew. And her mother was evading her questions. The one person she trusted the most next
to Andrew, was lying to her now. Mary Elizabeth’s heart broke as outrage simmered in her mind, clarifying her thoughts as the quiet calm of the church had not.
“Concentrate instead on saying your goodbyes to Mr. Byrne,” her mother said patting her hand. “It’s for the best, my dearest.”
Before Mary Elizabeth could reply, Andrew was upon them. The bruises on his face could not detract from how handsome he looked in his dark blue coat, and contrasting gray waistcoat. His breeches were blue, like the coat, and his black boots, polished to a high shine. His thick black hair was tied back at his nape with a black ribbon.
Her breath caught as her eyes met his. Her stomach felt as though butterflies were flitting around inside as he drew near. She loved him. She could not let him go.
She removed her hand from her mother’s arm and extended it for Andrew to take. He lifted her fingers to his lips as his gaze captured hers. “Mary Elizabeth.” The way he said her name was both an endearment and a caress. It made her shiver. Made her yearn for more stolen kisses.
Her mother cleared her throat.
Andrew lowered Mary Elizabeth’s hand and shot a polite glance her mother’s way as he amended his greeting. “Lady Elizabeth,” he said with a nod. He turned back to Mary Elizabeth and smiled warmly. “Miss Strand. I hope I find you well?”
“You do,” she said, “but Andrew, your poor eye! What happened to you?” She used his Christian name deliberately. He would expect her to, for they had been calling each other by their intimate, personal names for weeks now. When she said her little good-bye speech she planned to change how she addressed him, using his more formal surname. She hoped he would understand that the switch was purposeful and that her words were not really hers at all.
She hoped.
He looked at her steadily. She thought she saw a message in that look, but she couldn’t be sure. It seemed that they were both talking in code today.
