by Louise Clark
“My sister is holding a dinner party.” He lifted his mug and sipped, watching Andrew over the rim.
Ron’s brother-by-marriage, Maurice Hodder, that most conservative of gentlemen, assumed all sensible men were supporters of English rule. He refused to acknowledge that his wife’s brother was plotting the downfall of the British colonial government and Franny made sure that he never fully understood how rebellious Ron was.
Andrew raised his glass and looked at Ron over it. “A party, you say.”
Ron nodded. “She’s invited the Lady Elizabeth and her daughter.” He paused to drink. Andrew waited. “A going away party, as it were.”
“I thought that was supposed to be the tea Lady Elizabeth was giving.”
“That’s the final do. They’ll leave for Boson the next day.” He leaned forward. “This gathering of my sister’s is the start of the town’s send off. Franny wanted to make it a widely attended celebration, but my dear brother-in-law thought that inviting a select group of local landowners would be more appropriate.”
Andrew raised his brows. “And am I considered to be an appropriate landowner?”
Ron grinned. “Well, you’re a landowner of some consequence.” His expression sobered. “Maurice may not hold with rebellion, but he doesn’t accept that everything the English do is suitable. He doesn’t like how Strand is treating his daughter.” Ron paused to drink a hearty draft of his ale. As he set his mug down on the table, he slanted Andrew a shrewd glance. “There’s an opportunity here, if you’re willing to take it.”
Andrew raised his brows. “I should be delighted to attend your sister’s party. When is to be held?”
“Friday. I’ll let my sister know. She’ll be pleased. She likes the idea of playing matchmaker.”
Andrew frowned. “Are you suggesting that she’ll find a way for Mary Elizabeth to be alone with me?”
Ron sent him an amused look. “You know my sister.”
Yes, he did. She had been a hellion before she married her very respectable husband. Ron never understood what she saw in Maurice, but Andrew always assumed it was his steadiness and confidence. She might no longer be a hellion, but she had a mischievous sense of humor and a strong sense of right and wrong. If she’d decided that Mary Elizabeth deserved the opportunity to plan her own life, she’d act to ensure it happened.
Ideas began to form in his head. He finished his ale with one last gulp, then set his mug back on to the table with a determined thud. “Thank you for the conversation, Aiken, but I must leave you now. I’ve arrangements to make.” His friend nodded and raised his own tankard in salute as Andrew rose from the table.
Night was chasing away evening dusk as he rode back to his farm, indicating that the hour was growing late. Despite the dim light, the horse trotted along peacefully, clearly knowing the way. Andrew let the animal pick out the path as he thought about timing. The Hodder’s dinner was in two days’ time. He needed his plan in place before he spoke to Mary Elizabeth. Formulating it would be so much easier if he had more details.
Faith knew those details. He had to talk to her, to convince her to tell him everything she knew.
The horse stumbled on a stone. He steadied it, then drew it down to a walk. He was almost home now and darkness was falling fast. He didn’t want to take the chance of the rest of Faith’s interfering family being there when he asked her for assistance. Madame Chloe would shake her head, denying his request, while the objectionable Daniel would blather on about influencing the future and then declare it wasn’t allowed. Mistress Liz would follow her mother’s lead, even if she wanted to talk to him.
However, today was Wednesday, mid-week. Faith rarely entertained or went out on Wednesday evenings, so it was likely her beacon would be waiting for him if he went to the grove. He urged the horse back into a trot and changed direction.
He was right. Her light blazed through the woods. He dismounted and tied the horse to a tree, then he walked into beacon.
In an instant he found himself in Faith’s living room. The electric lamps were turned low, but he was still able to see Faith and Cody entwined on the couch, in the middle of what appeared to be an intense embrace. “Dear God,” Andrew said and stepped back out of the beacon.
He gave them enough time to untangle themselves before he stepped into the light once more. Faith and Cody were still on the couch, but now Faith sat up straight and Cody had his arm draped across her shoulders. Though Cody didn’t appear upset at the intrusion, Faith was clearly flustered. Andrew made haste to apologize.
She unbent a bit at that and said, “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Yes, we were,” Cody said. “We just didn’t know when you’d show up.”
“Cody,” Faith said, frowning. She poked him in the ribs with her elbow, turning the word into a warning.
He turned his head and kissed her temple. “You know my thoughts on this.”
“Yes,” Faith replied. “But…”
Andrew took heart from the conversation. Faith knew when and where he and Mary Elizabeth would wed. She and Cody must have been speculating on the details that were never written down. They’d come to some conclusions, that much was apparent. Now he just had to coax them to reveal what they’d guessed, as well as what they knew.
He sat down on the chair that faced the couch. “I won’t be visiting as usual on Friday.” He paused, waiting to see if that got any response.
Cody raised his brows. Faith said, “Oh?” in a casual way. Her face showed polite interest and nothing more.
“I’ve been invited to a dinner party.”
Faith and Cody’s expressions didn’t change. He wondered if Friday was significant as more than just the day he discovered whether Mary Elizabeth was truly willing to defy her parents in order to marry him.
He tried again. “I wrote my sister in New York and asked her to arrange for Mary Elizabeth and me to be married.”
“And did she respond?” Faith asked.
He’d learned from Chloe that he and Mary Elizabeth would wed in New York, but she had not said how he would arrange it. He assumed his sister would help, but he couldn’t be sure. Her husband was a merchant whose trade was dependent on England’s good will. Though he sympathized with much of what Andrew and the other rebels believed, his brother-in-law had a business to run and a family to support, so he stayed neutral. Andrew wasn’t sure he’d condone a runaway marriage that involved the daughter of a senior British official in Boston.
“Not yet,” he replied, answering Faith’s question. He watched her expression, hoping for answers. There were none. Annoyed, he said, “Mary Elizabeth will return to Boston town with her mother next week. I need to act quickly. I had a thought that I’d bring her here and abide awhile, until the hue and cry from her disappearance died down. Then I’d find a way to get her down to New York to be wed.”
Faith sat up straight at that, sliding out from under Cody’s arm. She said urgently, “You can’t, Andrew. You know you can’t! Mary Elizabeth can only travel through the Beacon with you. She can only stay in my time if she is touching you. You know that!”
He nodded. “Of course I do. But, Faith, I’m desperate. I have not had a moment of privacy with Mary Elizabeth since the night I asked her to marry me. Her parents kept her under lock and key all last week, until they forced an agreement from her to marry the English colonel. Even now she is never out and about unless she is with her mother. I do not know what Friday will bring, but I must be prepared for any and all contingencies.”
Faith drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Andrew, if you are here, in my time, and you break physical contact with Mary Elizabeth, she will pop back into the eighteenth century. Have you any idea how difficult it will be to keep her here with you? For a short time, it is possible. But to remain long enough for people to stop searching for you both? Impossible!”
“She’s right, you know,” Cody said. “When you come into our time you need to have a limited purpose.”
When Cody agreed with Faith, Andrew’s fantasy of escaping to the future dissolved. Faith understood the Beacon and its rules, but Cody was a logical man of science. If he was siding with Faith, it meant there were too many difficulties for the plan to succeed. “What am I to do?”
“Go to your dinner on Friday,” Faith said. “Find out how Mary Elizabeth wants to proceed.” She reached out and caught his hand, squeezing it. “She may want to find a way to marry you without breaking with her parents.”
“That would be impossible. George Strand would never allow us to wed. He’d rather disown his daughter than have it happen.”
“What about Lady Elizabeth?”
Andrew thought about Lady Elizabeth, whose charming, friendly demeanor seemed to hide a dislike of her husband. She and Mary Elizabeth were close. To forever be unable to communicate would be heartbreak for both of them. “She does what her husband tells her.”
Cody raised his brows. “Does she?”
Andrew sat up straight. “Are you telling me—”
“We’re telling you nothing,” Faith said hastily.
“Then it’s possible that Lady Elizabeth will help us elope,” he said. He looked from Faith to Cody, but Faith had her stony expression firmly in place and Cody’s face was alight with laughter. Andrew couldn’t tell if that was because his probing amused Cody, or if he and Faith had just sent him chasing after a phantom possibility.
Either way, he thought he’d discovered as much as he could tonight. He stood. “Wish me luck on Friday.”
Faith stood and kissed his cheek. “You don’t need luck, Andrew.”
Cody grinned at him. “She’s right. A plan is better than luck.”
Chapter 10
Conversation stopped when Andrew strolled into the Hodders’ formal front parlor on the day of Franny’s dinner party. Although Maurice Hodder was a prosperous gentleman, and his home was substantial, the parlor itself was not overly large. At the moment there were seven other people in the room, a comfortable size for the space. Andrew’s gaze quickly found Mary Elizabeth, who was sitting on a brocade-covered sofa beside her mother.
He drank in her appearance, from her pretty sky-blue gown and embroidered underskirt, to the way her dark hair was elaborately dressed so that lustrous curls fell over one of her bare shoulders. Though she was smiling, her skin was paler than usual and the soft rose that pinkened her cheeks was absent. Her warm brown eyes, usually so bright and lively, were shadowed.
She had glanced his way when he’d arrived—he knew because his skin had prickled with awareness—but now she kept her eyes averted, obviously careful not to appear interested in him.
He knew differently, though, and it made him glad that he’d taken care with his appearance, choosing to wear a dark, wine-colored coat that Mary Elizabeth had once told him made him look very fine. He complemented it with a white, figured silk waistcoat and black silk breeches. His shoes were polished to a high sheen and his hair was tied at his nape with a black ribbon.
Her studied disinterest told him that he needed to tread carefully if he wanted to make this evening a success, so he focused his attention on his hostess and tried to act normally when all he really wanted to do was to sweep Mary Elizabeth away with him. “Good evening, Franny, Maurice.”
Franny Hodder beamed at him and said, “Welcome, Andrew. We are delighted you were able to come tonight.” She held out her hand to him.
Andrew captured it in his, then executed his most sweeping bow over it. Franny, who had known him since they were both children, giggled. Her husband Maurice shook his head. “If a fellow didn’t know you were as sensible a farmer and as canny a businessman as was ever born, I’d have you down as a popinjay, Byrne.”
Franny shot her husband a flirtatious look from blue eyes that danced with mischief as she said, “Really, Mr. Hodder, to chastise one of our guests in such a way!” She shook her head. Maurice grinned at her. They had been married less than a year and he was clearly besotted with his lively blonde bride.
Her brother Ronald wandered over. “Well met, Byrne. You know everyone else here, I think?”
Of course he did, but Ron’s question allowed him to bow to the Reverend and Mrs. Turner before he focused on Mary Elizabeth and her mother.
Lady Elizabeth’s mouth was set in a straight line and her expression was haughty. “Mrs. Hodder,” she said, rising from the sofa and drawing Mary Elizabeth up with her. “I fear that my daughter and I must excuse ourselves. I do apologize—”
Mary Elizabeth shot her a distressed, look. “But Mama!”
Lady Elizabeth put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “Hush, child.” She didn’t take her eyes off the little group around Andrew. “I was not aware of the company—”
“But surely, dear lady, you cannot object to Mrs. Hodder inviting her brother, Mr. Aiken, to dine,” the reverend said innocently.
Lady Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot together into a frown at that. “No, of course not…”
Smiles wreathed Turner’s cheerful countenance. “Nor can it be Mr. Byrne, whose family has been prominent in the community for two generations and more.”
Lady Elizabeth stiffened and her frown deepened. She opened her mouth to reply. The reverend rolled on. “It must, therefore, be myself and my wife. I am desolated, dear lady. Pray tell, what must I do to return to your good graces?”
Andrew blinked. It appeared that Reverend Turner had decided to be one of his champions.
Color crept up into Lady Elizabeth’s cheeks. “My sincere apologies, Reverend. I have nothing against you and Mrs. Turner,” she protested.
Andrew took the opportunity to ease closer to Mary Elizabeth. He hoped to have a moment to talk to her while Turner distracted Lady Elizabeth, but she was not about to be outflanked.
Her glance was steely as she said, “Everyone in this room is aware that Mr. Byrne has been turning his attentions to my daughter. Now that she is betrothed it is inappropriate for them to be together.”
“Surely not, Lady Elizabeth,” Mrs. Turner said. She was dressed in a dark gown with a matching underskirt and if she wore panniers they were tiny compared to the fashionably sized ones that added such width to Lady Elizabeth’s skirts. She was sitting on a comfortable wing chair positioned opposite the sofa. “Mr. Byrne is a gentleman and Miss Strand has been brought up most graciously. Nothing could happen during a dinner amongst friends.”
Mrs. Turner was wrong. If he had the chance, he’d spirit Mary Elizabeth away in an instant. At her mother’s comment, she had clasped her hands in front of her lap and lowered her eyes. Color stained her cheeks and she was worrying her lower lip between her teeth. She looked miserable. Then she lifted her head, found his gaze and smiled. His heart turned over and started to pound.
“Mama, we are to leave Lexington in another week,” she said, her voice husky. “Do allow us to stay. Mrs. Hodder has been a particular friend since we came here and once I am wed, I will be returning to England. I will not have an opportunity to visit with my friends here and I will miss them when I am gone.”
Lady Elizabeth studied her, then she pursed her lips and shot Andrew a narrow-eyed glance. “Very well. We will stay, provided Mr. Byrne promises to acknowledge your betrothal and behave appropriately.”
Andrew didn’t hesitate. He bowed with an elegant flourish and said, “As you wish, my lady.” Even as she tilted her head in stiff acceptance, he was plotting ways he could draw Mary Elizabeth for a private conversation. In his heart, she was engaged to him, for she had agreed to marry him. Nothing else mattered.
Ronald Aiken sauntered over to hand him a glass of rum. “Don’t rush your fences, Byrne,” he murmured. “Between us we’ll ensure you’ve a moment or two alone with Miss Strand. Give it time.”
Andrew tipped his glass in salute. “My thanks, Aiken.”
Ron nodded and moved away. Mrs. Turner continued to chat with Lady Elizabeth, who had returned to her seat on the couch, while Franny drew Mary Elizabeth off with
the excuse that she wanted her to look at her embroidery work. Andrew joined the men and found they were discussing a new family who had recently moved to the area.
By the time dinner was called, the initial tension had dissipated. It wasn’t precisely a jolly meal, but conversation flowed without restraint. Inevitably, Mary Elizabeth’s betrothal became a topic of discussion. “Do you expect a long engagement, Miss Strand?” Franny asked as the girl she’d hired to serve for the evening brought in the final course, a syllabub made with rich cream and flavored with wine and lemon.
Mary Elizabeth smiled her thanks to the girl before she said, “My father is having the banns read now. The colonel and I are to be married as soon as that process is completed.”
In less than three weeks, then. Andrew knew a moment of panic. That was hardly enough time to organize an escape to New York and a clandestine marriage there. Of course, he didn’t really have three weeks anyway, since he needed to get Mary Elizabeth away before she left Lexington for good.
“That is rather soon, is it not, Lady Elizabeth?” asked Mrs. Turner. She’d couched the words as an innocent query, but Andrew caught an undercurrent of disapproval.
Lady Elizabeth must have caught the inference too, for she put her spoon down, then patted her lips with the starched white linen napkin. “My daughter can hardly sail for England with Colonel Bradley as an unmarried girl,” she replied stiffly. “I believe, as well, it is best for her to be settled with her new husband before they travel. The first weeks of marriage can be difficult for a young couple.”
Mrs. Turner nodded. “That is true,” she said in a thoughtful tone. “It is wise to have family and friends around while the young people make adjustments. However,” she paused, deliberately Andrew thought, before she added, “Her betrothal is one of the highlights of a young woman’s life. It seems a shame to rush the process in the case of Miss Strand.”
