Devil's Embrace (39 page)

Trade was brisk. For the British army and the loyalists, New York was an oasis where food was cheap and plentiful and the markets overflowed with merchandise that catered to the British taste in comfort. Even throughout the winter months, when snow covered the frozen ground and howling winds whistled through the city, dinners, balls, and plays were not uncommon diversions to while away the frigid evenings. With the coming of early spring, the colonial loyalists threw themselves into a frenzied succession of social gatherings, seemingly intent on proving that, despite the rebellion, New York could still be a place of extravagant gaiety.

Edward learned forward and patted his gray mare’s glossy neck. She had no particular liking for the noisy harbor, preferring, he knew, the quiet of the countryside or the order of the March. She was skittish and tensed for
action, reminded, Edward supposed, of the tumult of battle by the boisterous human activity of the thriving dock.

He laid his hand on his left thigh and rubbed it. The saber wound he had suffered in one of the many skirmishes with the rebels on Staten Island still ached. He stroked Delila’s neck once again in gratitude. Had it not been for her rearing up to protect him, the wild-eyed rebel’s saber would have slashed through his belly.

He turned her away from the Battery to his destination, Number 1 Broadway, General Howe’s residence. A message from the general had interrupted him just as he had finished the review of his troops at City Hall. He shook his head in frustration at the prospect of speaking to Howe. The general’s calmly announced plan to open communication lines with Burgoyne marching from Canada by removing south to Chesapeake had left Edward and many of his fellow officers stunned. Edward knew that General Howe and General Burgoyne held each other in mutual dislike, but it seemed fantastic to Edward that such petty rivalry could cloud Howe’s military judgment. To leave Burgoyne in the lurch would be of incalculable assistance to the rebel forces. It was a ridiculous plan that Edward still hoped to forestall. Time, at least, was on his side, for it was unlikely that Howe would move before summer.

The Kennedy House at 1 Broadway was a stately two-story Georgian mansion set back from the busy street and overhung by giant elm trees. Edward’s summons here rather than at General Howe’s headquarters north of the city at Beekman House likely meant that the general was readying for the encounters the spring would bring and wanted to be closer to his troops. Edward grinned ruefully as he handed Delila’s reins to a young private and walked up the wide front steps. It was not so much that he would have liked to join Howe’s expedition southward, it was rather that the assignment would have freed him of the person of Sir Henry Clinton, who was to take over Howe’s command as lieutenant-general. General Clinton, in Edward’s opinion, was more unfit even than General Howe. A more haughty, churlish, and stupid man Edward had yet to meet. General Howe, at least, was well-liked by the
Tories in New York for his fairness in his dealings with them, particularly after the fire of the previous September, and was a credit to his rank at social gatherings. Even General Clinton’s aide, Major Andre, himself a brilliant ornament in New York society, agreed with Edward on this point. But they were both helpless in the face of General Howe’s unlikely decision.

“The General is expecting you, sir.”

“Thank you, Dobbs.” The fresh-faced young lieutenant newly arrived from Dorset was, like Edward, assigned to remain in New York and endure the command of General Clinton. As he walked past Dobbs, he wondered about the excited undercurrent he had heard in his voice. Perhaps General Howe had changed his mind. He walked faster, ignoring the twinge of protest from his thigh.

A young private scurried to open the door to the General’s sitting room. Edward nodded at him, smiling. He was scarce more than a boy out of short coats, and yet, he was proving to be eager and not unintelligent. When General Clinton finally assumed command, he would see to the boy’s eagerness, poor lad.

Edward squinted while his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlit room. The long curtains were opened wide to the morning sun, which was enough to warm the room pleasantly.

“Good morning, sir.” Edward saluted General Howe smartly. “I received your message.”

General Howe rose from his chair and Edward saw that the man whose mercurial humors left many of his officers quaking in their boots appeared jovial today. Indeed, a deep smile promptly indented his heavily jowled cheeks.

“I have a surprise for you, my boy.” Again that beaming smile.

“You have changed your campaign plans, sir?”

General Howe’s smile disappeared. “That discussion, Captain, is closed. Accustom yourself, sir, to remaining in New York. You and Major Andre will have the important assignment of keeping General Clinton within the ropes, so to speak, when we finally have a change in command. No,” he continued, his good humor restored, “I asked you here
for a very different reason. Captain Crowley, allow me to introduce you to Captain Lord Delford, one of my finest officers.”

Edward turned to see a man emerge from the far corner of the large sitting room. He was of the general’s age, and heavyset like him, but dressed in a naval officer’s ornate blue and white uniform.

Somewhat surprised, Edward extended his hand. “My pleasure, Captain Crowley.” He turned again to General Howe, his brows raised in question.

“Captain Crowley has just arrived from Boston, early this morning, on his majesty’s frigate,
The York.
”

Edward sensed that he was being studied closely, and he stiffened.

“You are Viscount Delford?”

Captain Crowley’s deep voice was oddly assessing. Edward’s gaze was locked by the man’s cold gray eyes.

“I have that honor, sir.”

What the devil is this about, he wondered, shifting his weight to his sound leg.

“I believe, my lord,” Captain Crowley said, his gaze flickering briefly toward General Howe, “that you will indeed be pleased at the surprise General Howe spoke about.”

“Surprise, sir?”

“Aye, my lord. And I have personally escorted her from Genoa.”

Edward thought the world, or the captain, had taken a faulty turn.

A door opened at the far end of the sitting room.

“Your wife, my lord, returned to you safe and sound.”

“My
what?
”

Edward’s question hung unanswered. “No,” he whispered, his face draining of color. She was an apparition, some cruel jest played upon him by his mind. She stood very quietly, watching him. Edward took in her long thick golden hair, her exquisitely slender figure, and her deep blue eyes upon him, holding gentle affection.

“Cassie?” He was shaking his head even as he uttered her name.

“Yes, Edward, it is I.”

“But you are dead; it cannot be.” He groped for the chair beside him. “My God—Cassie?”

General Howe and Captain Crowley ceased to exist for him. Edward took a stumbling step toward her, his eyes locked upon her, as if to prevent her image from vanishing. Numbly, he stretched out his hand.

Cassie gazed mutely at Edward. He looked striking and elegant in his scarlet and cream uniform, his brown hair powdered as white as the cravat around his throat. His deeply tanned face looked older than she remembered, and his bright hazel eyes were incredulous. When he reached out his hand to her, her throat closed on a mighty sob. She dashed toward him and flung herself into his arms.

“Edward, my dear Edward.”

“Cassie, oh my God, I thought I had lost you.” He whispered her name again and again, and clutched her tightly against his chest. He pushed her away from him and stroked her hair and her cheeks, still repeating her name.

Vaguely, Cassie heard Captain Crowley’s deep, pinched voice. “Well, General, it would appear that I have executed my most pleasant mission in this wretched rebellion. As to the viscount’s taking good care of my cargo, my mind is now at ease.”

Cassie gently freed herself from Edward’s arms.

“I must leave you now, viscountess. Although our voyage had its interesting moments, I am pleased to have delivered you sound as a roast to your husband.”

Edward showed no surprise at the captain speaking of him as Cassie’s husband. Indeed, it scarcely penetrated his mind. He clasped Captain Crowley’s large hand and pumped it.

“My deepest thanks, Captain. There is no way I can repay you, except to assure you that we are both profoundly grateful.”

“And I too, Captain,” General Howe said. “I am certain, my boy, that we can rub along without your presence for say a week.”

Edward nodded, so clearly befuddled that General Howe guffawed.

Captain Crowley’s cold gray eyes rested upon Cassie for some moments, and softened.

“Good-bye, Captain, and thank you.”

“Take care, viscountess, and strive not to get yourself lost again from your husband. I am not always to be found in odd parts of the world, you know.”

“I shall, Captain.” Cassie stood on her tiptoes and kissed the Captain’s cheek. “Do give my thanks again to Mr. Thompson. Both of you were exceedingly kind to me.”

Captain Crowley, as if embarrassed by her show of affection, merely nodded, saluted smartly to General Howe, and took his leave. There was suddenly silence, broken only by the sound of his retreating footsteps, amazingly crisp and controlled despite his great weight. Edward was gripping Cassie’s hand tightly, so tightly that she winced.

“I trust your lodgings are suitable for your lady wife, my boy?”

“Indeed they are, sir.”

“Then off with you both. I trust you will find sufficient to occupy your time.” He paused a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was strangely sad, for he knew that Edward would now not long remain in New York. “At least you have gained from this wretched rebellion, Edward. When all is said and done, the rebels may have their way. I will look forward to seeing both you and your lovely wife in England some day, I hope not too long distant.”

“Yes, sir,” Edward said only. Unlike General Howe, he had not yet realized that the strife in these colonies would soon be an ocean away from him.

“Off with you now, my boy, I have much to do. Goodbye, my lady. Keep that husband of yours away from Staten Island. I don’t want him stuck again with a rebel sword.”

Cassie bent her knee in a slight curtsy and allowed Edward to lead her from the room. She could feel the tension in his hand as he escorted her through the outer rooms to the entrance hall.

“So this is your wife, Edward.”

“It seems that I was the last to know, damn you, John. Cassie, this is Major Andre, aide to General Clinton.”

“A great honor, my lady.” Major Andre lifted Cassie’s
hand and lightly kissed her wrist. She regarded the slightly built officer, and knew him immediately to be a charmer with the ladies. His pale blue eyes held warmth and interest, and his genuine smile was a pleasure to behold.

“Thank you, Major Andre.”

“Now, Edward, don’t get on your high-ropes. Old Howe himself said you weren’t to be told.” He added in a pensive tone, “I hope this doesn’t mean I won’t be seeing much of you anymore, old man.”

“Of course you will.” A faint smile turned up the corners of Edward’s mouth. “Well, perhaps not in the next few days.”

“Aye, that’s as it should be. Perhaps I will let the captain find me a wife on his next voyage. I’d say that he did a superb job for you.” He gazed at Cassie with undisguised approval. What a lovely girl she was, her ample woman’s charms ill-disguised by the light yellow muslin gown. And that glorious hair. It had amazed him to learn that Edward had been married, but then, Edward wasn’t much of a lover of society. Perhaps believing such a woman to be dead was reason enough for his aloofness. He wondered if Edward’s beautiful viscountess would change her husband’s hermetic habits.

Edward, who knew Major Andre’s thinking well, since he usually spoke his assessments of women aloud, pulled Cassie gently to him. “I am certain you have much to do, John.”

“Yes, I believe that I do.” Major Andre turned to Cassie. “Welcome to New York, my lady. I do not believe that society will allow Edward to keep you to himself.
Adieu,
Edward, for a couple of days!” Major Andre gave Edward a jaunty salute and turned away.

“My portmanteau, Edward.”

He looked at her blankly.

“It contains all that I own and I cannot leave it.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, and picked it up.

Cassie shaded her eyes with her hand when they emerged into the bright sunlight. “How very changeable the weather is here, Edward.”

“Is it not in Genoa?”

She stared up at him, an unpleasant knot growing in her throat.

“Captain Crowley said he had brought you from Genoa,” he said gently. He touched his fingertips to her cheek. “I do not wish to cause you discomfort, Cass. We can talk when we reach my lodgings.”

She nodded, without speaking.

He pulled up suddenly and frowned. “I have only my mare, Delila. If you are tired, Cass, you may ride.”

“No, Edward, I am not the least tired. Are your lodgings far from here?”

“Not very far. I live in an inn, The King George, on William Street. ’Tis not more than half a mile.”

She watched him silently as he fastened her portmanteau to his mare’s saddle. He led them onto Broadway, which seemed to her to be teeming with scarlet-coated soldiers, many of them fully equipped with gear and weapons. And ladies. So many ladies, most of them elegantly dressed. Yet they seemed overly open with the soldiers.

“For the most part they are prostitutes, Cassie,” Edward said, reading her thoughts. “Where there are soldiers and sailors, there are always women gladly willing to part them from their guineas.” Edward paused a moment, running his hand along his jaw. It was ridiculous to chatter like this.
She has returned from the dead to me and here I am prosing about prostitutes and soldiers.

“Cass.”

He spoke her name so softly that she was uncertain whether she had imagined it. She turned and looked up at him.

“I cannot believe that you are here.” He suddenly dropped Delila’s reins. He gave a shout of joy, closed his hands about her waist and lifted her high off the ground.