Patricia Rice (38 page)

When Morgan arrived in Williamsburg to find every
inn and tavern stacked to the rafters, he accepted it as one more
punishment that he deserved. Finding a liveryman who appreciated fine
horseflesh and agreed to set some of the nags into a paddock in order to
stable the thoroughbreds, Morgan left his trunks and horses and set out
on foot to explore the town Faith had taken for her own. He hoped.

The main thoroughfare almost put an end to his
hopes. The street was wider than any Morgan had ever seen, and it was
packed from end to end with expensive coaches-and-four, and even
coaches-and-six. Elegantly coiffed ladies in luxurious silks and
powdered hair rode behind liveried servants. Gentlemen clad in sober
black mingled on the green with wealthy planters garbed in the finest
silks and laces. Such a profusion of wealth all in one place instantly
brought to mind his days of riding the high toby, and Morgan mentally
counted the proceeds should he take to the road again.

A man obviously wouldn’t starve in this place. The
streets seemed remarkably clean of the ragged urchins and maimed beggars
that congregated in every major city he had ever known. It was
impossible to imagine a place where everyone had enough to eat. Morgan
knew if he looked hard enough, there had to be the poor and hungry here,
but he was beginning to think it would only be the lame and the mad who
went without in these streets of gold.

The May sun sent him searching for shade, and he
found it in a pleasant tavern fronting on Duke of Gloucester Street. He
ordered rum and listened to the frock-coated gentlemen expound
vociferously on the day’s happenings in the Assembly. It seemed every
man in here had an interest in the government, not just an idle, blasé
interest, but an adamant, aggressive opinion on every topic to come
before the Assembly. Morgan thought that intriguing, but it brought him
no closer to finding Faith.

But the polished pewter and neatly swept floors of
the tavern gave him another idea. How many inns and taverns could there
be in a colonial town? He had to find a place to stay. That gave him
excuse enough to stop and question at every one. Knowing the way his
little Methodist’s mind worked, she would have hunted for work in the
places she knew best.

Someone, somewhere, would be able to tell him of a delicate female with a lady’s ways applying for position of tavern maid.

“I can’t. I simply can’t. There isn’t time....” Faith protested.

The young gallant in satin waistcoat with lace at
throat and wrist made a dramatic gesture to dispel her remonstrations.
“We will make time, Mistress O’Neill. The day is made for the out-
of-doors, and I have a brand-new carriage I wish to display in style.
How better than with the most beautiful woman in all of Williamsburg by
my side?”

Faith’s lips quirked with amusement. Randolph Blair
had become a regular at Needham Inn since his father had taken a seat in
the House. He was only a few years older than she but he had led a
sheltered, pampered life that had left him happy and carefree, and not
exceedingly wise or mature. Still, he had a lively sense of humor, a
quick wit, and he treated her as if she were a princess. Such treatment
was exceedingly hard to resist, and she gave up her attempt now.

“I’m scarcely attired for elegance, Mr. Blair. You
will have to give me a few moments to don something appropriate for
showing off a new carriage.”

Randolph grinned, a sloping grin that spread across
his narrow face and illuminated his blue eyes. “I will take one mug of
your fine ale while I wait. Then the day is mine.”

Faith shook her neatly capped curls. “Not quite, sir. You forget my demanding son. One hour I give, no more.”

“Two, and you will be forgiven.”

“We’ll see.” Faith escaped before he could persuade
her into more. Never in his spoiled life had Randolph Blair been denied
anything, and he had learned too well all the ways to turn women to his
thinking. She wouldn’t fall into that trap, but he did make it difficult
to say no, particularly on a lovely spring day such as this one. She’d
never been courted before, and she wouldn’t be female if she didn’t
enjoy his admiration.

She came down a while later wearing the yellow silk
that Morgan had given her the previous summer. The style still served
here in the colonies, and she was extremely proud of her elegant
confection. A stiff petticoat and white satin underskirt with rows of
lace billowed the gown into a stylish bell, and the matching lace at the
elbow-length sleeves and in the curve of the bodice declared her a lady
of leisure. She had thought the gown ridiculous until she had noted
those of the ladies in the shops and streets.

As Randolph’s eyes widened in appreciation, Faith knew she had successfully made the transition from servant to lady.

“I trust I won’t clash with your new carriage,” she said as he guided her toward the street.

“I would run the thing into the river should that be so,” he declared brashly as he handed her into the waiting curricle.

Faith looked at the new vehicle with surprise,
gazing upward to the sky, where there should be a roof, and to the
sides, where she could easily see the dusty street below instead of a
proper window. The whole thing looked extremely rackety, and she turned
to her companion as he took up the reins. Only then did she realize that
there was no driver, and that he meant to leave his groom behind.

“Whatever on earth is this thing, Mr. Blair? I fear I shall be dashed to the street at any minute.”

“It’s a curricle. Don’t you like it? Wait until you
feel it run when I let the horses have their heads. It’s like flying.
Hold on to your curls.”

His attention was entirely on his horses and the
spectacle they were making as they pulled out into the road, without the
least bit of concern for Faith’s fears. With one hand she grabbed the
scrap of lace holding her hair in place, and with the other she grabbed
the side of the curricle as Randolph sent the horses into a swift
canter, barely missing a narrow coach.

“Mr. Blair, you will walk this carriage or I shall
never ride with you again.” Faith spoke loudly enough that he could hear
over the sound of the wheels hitting every rut in the road.

Randolph turned her a cheery grin and slowed the
horses. “A sedate walk to please the lady for now. After we have showed
the town our paces, we will try her out in the country, shall we?”

“No, sir, we shall not.” Faith breathed easier as
the carriage slowed and turned onto the wide thoroughfare of the Duke of
Gloucester. Releasing the side of the vehicle, she primly folded her
hands in her lap. Refusing to respond to the young man’s cajoling smile,
she gazed around her, admiring the sights from this vantage point.

She was thoroughly delighted with this town she had
adopted. The streets lay in well-planned parallels lined with neat
cottages, imposing houses, and well-kept businesses. With the new
Capitol rising splendidly on one end, the impressive college at the
other end, and the Governor’s Palace just off to the center, it suited
her sense of orderliness. All the yards had formal gardens that grew the
most marvelous fruit, along with herbs for the kitchen and flowers for
beauty. She would think she had found heaven had not one important piece
been missing.

Just as that memory made her flinch, Faith noticed a
massive black stallion. The horse would have caught her attention at
any time, but the tall, immaculately turned-out rider in black frock
coat managing the great beast made her breath catch. The curricle rolled
by before she could observe his face beneath the jauntily cocked hat,
but that brief sight was enough to jar loose a flood of emotions she had
long since locked away.

It couldn’t be him. That would be impossible.Miles
Golden would never have revealed her hiding place. It had to be someone
who rode like him. There must be other experienced horsemen in this
world. She had no reason to believe that the one man in the world she
needed to make her happiness complete was riding down this same street
behind her.

The intensity of the emotions just the possibility
stirred nearly broke the calm that she had worked so hard to restore. It
had taken months to wipe away the tears, piece together her heart, and
stow away the longings.

Choking back the sob lurking in her throat, Faith
stiffly checked the pins in her cap and turned her attention back to the
young man merrily greeting friends and neighbors.

***

Behind her, Morgan had no doubt of the identity of
the woman riding in the expensively useless vehicle beside a young fop.
Of all the things he had imagined in these last months, finding Faith in
the lap of luxury had not been one of them.

Miles had told him she had never drawn on the bank
draft he had given her. Morgan had assumed her pride would force her to
work for a living. But seeing her now in silks and laces in the company
of a young macaroni who could very well have made her his mistress
roused a black temper Morgan had not let loose in years.

There was the chance that she had married. The
legality of the marriage might be questionable, but Miles had said she
had never given him word one way or another as to nullifying that
fraudulent piece of paper that bound them. Perhaps in her own unworldly
way Faith had assumed the marriage was null and void. He would give her
credit for that much. He would make no assumptions until he knew the
truth, but it was awfully easy to assume that a man like that would make
her his mistress, not his wife.

Morgan wanted to strangle the arrogant bastard in
the carriage ahead, who hailed all and sundry as if to show off his
newest possessions. Faith seemed to be known by most of them, and few
cut her publicly.

From what Morgan had seen, the colonists were an
amiable lot when it came to class differences. Perhaps they even greeted
lightskirts. But he thought it more likely that they knew Faith and
liked her. A blade twisted in his heart as he realized Faith could very
possibly have found the home here that he had never offered her.

It wasn’t difficult to follow the curricle. It
paraded through the center of town, drawing comments, turning heads,
setting tongues to clacking. Morgan smiled grimly at the comments he
overheard. If she had married the young rascal, Faith had fallen into
the next-best thing to the nobility that she had come from.

He didn’t like the idea of giving her up, but as he
watched those lovely russet curls dip and bob ahead of him, Morgan knew
he couldn’t take her away from the kind of luxury that young man had at
his command. What had he to offer in comparison? Two horses and a meager
bankbook.

Had simmering anger and anguished fascination not
led him on, he would have turned around and given up any fool idea of
wooing her back.

But he had to know that the bastard was treating her
right, so Morgan followed the carriage’s progress. Out in the open
country, the curricle began to pick up speed, and Morgan set his horse
into a fast canter to keep up.

He watched Faith grab her hair and clutch the side
of the curricle. He caught sight of her pale face as the light vehicle
took a turn too quickly. And when he heard her voice rise in fury,
Morgan kicked his stallion into a gallop, pulled his sword, and set out
to stop the expensive carriage in the same manner as he had once done on
the roads to London.

Faith screamed as the black beast bore down on them,
his furious rider brandishing a sword and hurling curses. Randolph
urged his team to greater lengths, but the highwayman kept easy pace.
She didn’t even have to look to know this was the same man she had seen
earlier. The huge pistol and the imposing blackness of man and beast
terrified her too much to register the features beneath the hat.

But when Randolph finally brought the weary team to a
halt and the horseman caught up, Faith turned her head and her heart
lodged in her throat at the familiar harsh face and green eyes.

“Morgan,” she whispered, forgetting to hide his name.

He was more handsome than she remembered, his black
hair curling from beneath the cocked hat and caught tightly in a bow at
the base of his neck. The lacy jabot tied loosely at his throat looked
familiar, and with shock Faith realized it was the shirt she had sewn
and left for him those many months ago.

Morgan made a polite bow and doffed his hat. “Excuse
me, but I thought there might be some distress. The lady appeared
somewhat frightened.”

Randolph glanced from Faith to the stranger. “Is he known to you?”

What should she reply?
He’s my husband
.
She didn’t know that for a fact. She had assumed Morgan would have the
marriage annulled. But why, then, was he here? Uncertainly she replied,
“He’s an old friend, from England. If you would, please, let us turn
around and go home.”

Randolph’s usual sunny face turned hard. “Perhaps you should introduce us, my dear.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Faith stumbled, not knowing
what Morgan was calling himself, not knowing if she should say “O’Neill”
and raise a thousand other questions.

Morgan handled the matter himself. “Morgan de Lacy,
at your service. If I have disturbed your idyll, I will apologize and be
on my way.”

One glance at his face said he lied through his
teeth, but there was nothing to be done but play along. Faith gestured
toward her companion. “Randolph Blair, Mr. de Lacy. We were just going
home. Would you care to join us?”

Home. They were just going home. Morgan fought
against the pain twisting in his gut and straightened in his saddle.
“Happy to meet you, Mr. Blair. If you wouldn’t mind, I have news from
England that your lady might wish to hear.” He lifted a questioning
eyebrow.

Grudgingly Randolph lifted the reins to turn the horses about. “If the lady commands.” He turned a quizzical look to Faith.