The Duke's Redemption
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Prin laughed at her sarcasm. “I’m right for sure. That Englishman must have got under your skin like a hungry tick. You only desert subjects and get all huffy when you know I’m right and you’re feelin’ hooked.”
Elise pulled up the sheet and punched her pillow. “Enough, Prin, truly. You couldn’t be more wrong about my interest in that man. Beyond finding out his background for Zechariah, he doesn’t concern me in the least. Now go to sleep.”
“I wasn’t the one tossin’ and turnin’. That was you in a tumble.”
“Do be quiet, will you?”
“It is that man.” Prin leaned over her. A giggle in her voice, she whispered, “That tall, mysterious and darkly handsome English man.”
Elise gritted her teeth. An unsolicited image of Amberly invaded her mind. She saw again his golden eyes and knowing smile. Heard his smooth, rich voice in her head. She squeezed her eyes closed tight, desperate to ward off the warmth that suffused her heart when she thought of him. “Believe what you will. You always do, no matter what I say.”
“It’s your own fault, you know. You prove me right so often I’d be silly to doubt myself.”
A rooster’s crowing startled Drake from a deep sleep. The creature sounded as though it were right outside his window. He pushed back the mosquito net and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet hit the smooth wood, and he took a moment to clear the grogginess from his mind.
Last night he’d declined Zechariah’s offer to have a servant wake him. Normally an early riser, he hadn’t anticipated the image of Elise occupying his thoughts or disturbing his rest enough to make him oversleep.
Wearing the same clothes from the previous night, he stood and stretched his knotted muscles. He crossed to the open window, hoping for a breeze that was, unfortunately, not to be. The sun had barely risen, but the heat was high and the air steamy with humidity.
He looked out across the lush green lawn to the dock. The ferry to Charles Towne had yet to arrive, though a few people waited along the bank of the smooth-flowing river.
Abandoning the window, he made use of the pitcher of cool water and ornate basin on top of the bureau. He changed into fresh clothes, pausing to tie his hair back with a leather string before heading to the first floor.
Downstairs, the clatter of cutlery lead him to the dining room. Zechariah Sayer sat at the head of a long, polished pine table, a plate of bacon, eggs and fresh rolls arranged before him. An array of foods filled the silver trays along the sideboard, scenting the room with the aroma of cinnamon and fried bacon. A handful of servants stood along the bright green walls, obviously waiting for Sayer’s other guests to arrive and break their fast.
Zechariah picked up his steaming cup of coffee and gestured toward one of the chairs. “I’m afraid most everyone else is still abed. I’m an early riser myself. Can’t abide the idea of frittering away half the day in idleness.”
Drake pulled out the chair and made himself comfortable. He snapped his napkin from its neat fold and spread it across his lap. One of the female servants placed a plate of breakfast in front of him. He noted how attractive the girl looked with her lovely brown eyes and full lips. She reminded him of Elise, which was nonsense. He must be going round the bend. The chit was invading his dreams and now he was starting to see her in every pretty face he came across.
He took a drink of his coffee and added a teaspoon of sugar to mute its bitterness. “I, too, prefer an early start. At home I enjoy exercising my horses in the cool of the day.”
“We have a full stable here. Make use of it if you wish.” The older man took a bite of egg and chewed with greedy enjoyment. He poked his fork in Drake’s direction. “Just stay clear of Elise’s gelding, Freedom. She’s in love with the mount. I’d hate to have to rescue you from her ire if you borrow him.”
A half smile curved Drake’s lips. He accepted a roll from the pretty, light-skinned slave. “Thank you for the offer—and the warning. I shall look forward to riding tomorrow. I believe you said the ferry leaves for Charles Towne this morn at half past seven?”
“Aye,” Sayer said, motioning toward the mantel clock with his knife. “It should be here by now. You’d best hurry if you hope to be aboard.”
Ten minutes later, Drake joined the other passengers waiting on the riverbank near the garden house. Birds chirped, hidden in the towering oaks. The musty smell of moss hung in the steamy air. Kirby had stayed behind to continue the hunt for clues to the Fox’s identity. Drake had yet to see Elise, and his disappointment was acute. With the ferry leaving soon, he’d have no chance to see her for the rest of the day.
Waving, the ginger-haired ferry captain jumped onto the dock, his freckled face split in a huge, snaggle-toothed grin. “Miss Cooper!”
Drake pivoted on his heel to find Elise rushing up the path. His chest tightened in appreciation. She was exceptional. The daylight allowed him to see details of her face previously concealed. Her smooth skin and startling green eyes were no mistake of the candlelight. She’d forgone a wig and a cap, allowing him to indulge his curiosity about her hair. Dark brown with thick strands of red and gold that glinted in the morning sun. Tied at the nape, the long tresses hung over her shoulder and swayed below her waist as she walked.
With a smile and a wave to the captain, Elise joined Drake at the back of the queue. All bright smiles and vivacious energy, she reminded him of a perfect spring morning.
“Hello, Mr. Amberly. Fine day for a sail.”
“Fine day, indeed, Miss Cooper. Most fine, now that I’m aware you’re following me.”
“Following you, sir? You’re mad if you think so.” She lifted the leather satchel she held. “If not for a friend in need, I’d still be asleep.”
He smiled. “Then thank heaven you’re a friend willing to help.”
Elise ignored the sudden racing of her heart. With the letters for Tabby hidden in her satchel, an emergency stop at Riverwood Plantation to rescue muskets and Drake Amberly to dissect for information, she had too much to do to be taken in by his charm.
The bell rang, announcing their imminent departure. The other dozen or so passengers, some carrying chickens or leading goats on leashes, moved en masse onto the ferry’s deck.
Drake helped her onboard, but the captain was there to meet her. He doffed his tricorn. “Good mornin’, Miss Cooper.”
“Good morning, Captain Travis. How’s your mother since her illness last week? Did the honey and lemons I sent make a difference?”
The young man beamed. “She’s back up to snuff, ma’am, and told me to thank you. The toddy she made did the trick. Her lung rattle’s gone.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Let me know if she needs anything else.”
The captain nodded his appreciation and reluctantly went back to his work. Elise moved starboard. She placed the satchel between her feet and beneath the hem of her yellow skirt before taking hold of the ferry’s rail. Drake joined her, his height and broad shoulders casting a long shadow over the deck.
“I dare say our young captain is another of your smitten conquests.”
“Don’t be silly, Mr. Amberly. Travis isn’t smitten, he’s my friend.” In truth, he was her partner in espionage. Over the past year she’d taken this particular journey more times than she could count. Beyond her regularly scheduled trips, Travis aided her often when an unexpected need to travel presented itself. Zechariah paid him well for his inconvenience, but his loyalty was free.
“Like Christian?”
The ferry wobbled as it launched. She gave him a saucy grin. “Careful, Mr. Amberly. We haven’t known each other long enough for you to be jealous.”
He frowned. “Perhaps not, but I do believe I am.”
He sounded as surprised by his confession as she was to hear it. Facing him, she was struck by how dangerous he was to her peace of mind. Something rare and beyond her experience had snuck up and bloomed between them. Other men had been as blunt, but they’d left her cold. With Drake, she felt as if she were being bathed with the sun.
He brushed her cheek with his fingertips and slipped a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “It’s my fondest hope we’ll grow our acquaintance.”
Breathless, she stared into his golden eyes, wishing she was the carefree young miss she pretended to be. She forced her gaze out across the river. Focus, focus, she warned herself. Prin is depending on you. The patriots need you. Dear Lord, please help me! Determined to carry out her task, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I agree, Mr. Amberly, we should grow our acquaintance. By all means, let’s chat.”
Chapter Five
“Shall I begin, Mr. Amberly?” Elise prayed their discussion would go well. What a blessing it would be if she were able to uncover all the information Zechariah required before they reached Charles Towne. With her orders fulfilled, she would be free to avoid the man and no longer have to worry about the disturbing emotions he stirred in her.
“If you like. But first, please call me Drake?”
“It wouldn’t be proper.”
His golden eyes danced with mirth. “Last night I was given to understand you care little for propriety.”
“What of your family and background?” she asked, determined to keep the conversation focused on him. “Are your parents living? Have you any siblings?”
His expression sobered. “My mother was of Roman extraction. My parents and older brother perished on a return voyage from Rome ten years past. I was left with the care of my two younger siblings. A sister, Eva, and brother, Anthony. Anthony passed away a few months ago.”
Her heart twisted with pity. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing worse than losing a loved one.”
“I agree. Especially when he died by means of foul play.”
“My goodness! That’s doubly distressing.”
“I’ve come to terms with his death, but I won’t rest until his murderer is punished.”
She leaned forward and touched his hand in commiseration. “I’d want to do the same if it were my brother, but I hope you won’t allow your vengeance to rule you.”
“Anthony has no one else to avenge his honor.”
The fire in Amberly’s eyes frightened her. “I believe vengeance is best left to God.”
“Are you a religious woman, Miss Cooper?”
“Religious? Not terribly,” she admitted. “However, I am a Christian and do my best to follow God’s word.”
Drake glanced across the river to the passing shore. “I gave up on God ages ago. A man can only endure so many disappointments before he realizes his faith has been misplaced.”
Elise noticed his white-knuckled grip on the ferry’s rail. Her heart went out to him. “I don’t believe the Lord abandoned you. Not when His word promises He’ll never leave or forsake us.”
His mouth tightened into a hard line. “I hope you’re right.”
She recognized the bitterness and grief churning beneath his matter-of-fact tone. She understood loss. In the past two years, her home, freedom and many of her loved ones had all been taken from her, yet she couldn’t imagine how empty her life would be without her faith to sustain her.
A flock of birds landed on the river’s calm surface. Elise used the distraction to gather her thoughts. “What of your sister? I’m certain you must miss her.”
His expression softened and she could tell he and the girl were close.
“Eva is fifteen. She’s a hoyden despite my best efforts. She’s still in the schoolroom and loathes every moment of it. I’ve no doubt the servants have their hands full while I’m away.”
“I’m sure she’d prefer sailing the seven seas with you.”
“Most doubtful. She prefers horses to anything or anyone else. I understand you also have a horse you’re quite fond of. Zechariah warned me of your ire should I borrow him.”
“Zechariah exaggerates.”
“He said you’d take a horsewhip to me. That he’d have to scrape me from the stable walls if I dared to touch the beast.”
An indignant retort bubbled to her lips until she noticed the teasing gleam in his eyes. She laughed at her own quick temper. “I see that you jest at my expense, but Freedom is dear to me.”
“No doubt.”
“Zechariah loaned him to me when I first arrived to stay at Brixton Hall.”
“And when was that?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? The Sayers are amicable people.”
He nodded in agreement. “I, too, have found them as such. But the circumstances that brought you to Zechariah’s wardship must have been tragic for you.”
She bowed her head and her fingers fiddled with the end of the silk tie joining her bodice. She knew he must think her an orphan. Most people assumed she needed a protector because they believed the history Zechariah had created for her when she came to work for him at Brixton Hall. “Aye, most tragic.”
She looked beyond him to the calm river and marshy green banks that stretched as far as the eye could see. In truth, her situation was grim for entirely different reasons. She’d come to work for Zechariah because of her stepfather’s greed. After Roger wed her mother, Anne, he’d claimed the Virginia land and slaves as Anne’s property, then sold everything off for a tidy sum.
When Roger sold Prin to Zechariah, Elise did all she could to see her set free. Sayer refused to sell her, but had offered Prin’s freedom as the prize in exchange for Elise’s loyalty and work as a spy until the war’s end.
At the time, she’d been praying for a way to escape Roger and thought the Lord had made a way. For half her spy’s pay, she and Prin received room and board. In exchange for his silence, Roger gleaned another quarter of her profits though he never let her forget he could make just as much or more by turning her over to the British if she refused to compensate him for his silence.
Up until the night of Hawk’s death, she’d been convinced the Lord would see her through. That her success as a spy had been God’s reward for serving a just cause. Now, racked by guilt for her part in a man’s death, she wasn’t so certain.
“Have you been in shipping long?” she asked in an effort to draw the conversation back to Drake.
“Twelve years, counting my stint in the Royal Navy.”
“The navy?” Elise asked with interest.
“Aye, I left home at sixteen and went to sea. Over the next two years, I learned to love all things nautical and decided to make my fortune in shipping. When my father and older brother passed away unexpectedly, I took on the responsibilities of family matters, though I never forgot my own aspirations. I bought my first ship at twenty. Since then, I’m happy to say, I’ve steadily added to the line and hope to see its continued growth and prosperity.”
“From the moment I saw you last evening, I knew you were a determined man.”
He shrugged. “I suppose so. However, I must confess my determination is born from a fear of being idle. My family has farmed for years. Unfortunately, it bores me senseless.”
“How coincidental. My father farmed near the western border of Virginia.”
“Virginia? I’ve heard the land is rich and untamed, but that living there is nearly impossible with the savages roaming hither and yon.”
“It can be,” she acknowledged. “We did well enough in our dealings with the natives. My father made treaties with their leaders, and we respected one another. It was beautiful there. Untouched country with trees so high the mist settled in their branches and an abundance of game that would feed an army for a score of years.”
“The place sounds like Eden.” His expression turned thoughtful. “I was under the impression land grants were given by the king for service rendered. Did your father begin as a military man?”
She lowered her eyes. “No, I’m ashamed to say he didn’t believe in the king’s sovereignty.”
His eyes darkened. “He spoke treason.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter now. He died two years ago.”
“I apologize,” he said and quickly changed the subject. “What did you like best about living in Virginia?”
“More than anything else, I enjoyed the solitude and freedom. A blessing I’ve had to relinquish since I came to live at Brixton Hall.”
“Little wonder you named your horse as a reminder.”
The ferry’s bell rang and the craft lurched as it shifted course. Drake looked over his shoulder. “Obviously we’re not to Charles Towne. Where are we?”
“We’re docking at Riverwood Plantation. Its owner, Robert Gray, is a friend of the Sayers. Did you happen to make his acquaintance at the ball last night?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“He’s a pleasant man. Last fall a storm struck and ruined many of the Grays’ fields right before the harvest. Zechariah is exchanging rice for other supplies to aid him.”
“Is Gray one of the rebels or is he Tory?”
Elise thought of the gunpowder and muskets being traded for rice. “I believe his politics match those of Zechariah. I don’t usually pay attention to such things. Men are always preaching to us women that we shouldn’t bother with politics. They say our minds are too simple and can’t grasp the intricacies required to understand. They’re probably right. I have enough trouble counting my cross stitch.”
Elise almost choked on her words. She expected Amberly to agree with her in typical male fashion, but he surprised her.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “I find that women, given the right encouragement, have no difficulty understanding any given subject. Some are even more clever than men, while the majority are more cunning.”
The ferry jarred against the dock. Watching the deckhands rush to tie the mooring lines, Elise noted the cynicism in Drake’s voice. She wondered what foolish woman had hurt him.
A loud crash drew Elise’s attention to a crate being hauled aboard. She drew in a sharp breath. The box contained weapons and ammunition sorely needed by the patriots. French and American privateers smuggled the weapons as far as Riverwood. From there, she or Christian supervised their removal to Brixton Hall, then saw them farther upriver, and that much closer to the swamps that provided protection for the war-ravaged militia.
It was dangerous to transport munitions to Charles Towne, especially in broad daylight. Under normal circumstances she would have collected them under the cover of night. She didn’t have that option today. At the ball last night, a loyal agent had warned Zechariah that the British had gotten wind of Riverwood’s stash and planned to raid this afternoon. Now when the Brits arrived on Gray’s doorstep, they’d find nothing stored but indigo and cotton, the very crops English merchants demanded of their Colonial brethren.
Seeing the box was safe, she released a sigh of relief, which quickly disappeared when she noticed Amberly’s interest in the crate. Hoping to distract him, she entwined her arm with his and acted as though she might faint. “I declare the sun is blinding me. It’s strong enough to set my skin afire.”
“Would you care for a drink?” he said with concern.
“No, thank you. I just need to sit down.” She hated to play the roll of insipid female, but she wanted him as far from the crate as possible. After all, he was English and subject to suspicion.
The ferry rocked again, announcing its departure from Riverwood. She heard the slap of water on the sides of the ferry and felt safe for the time being. The crate would be hidden away from notice. All would be well as long as they avoided the British patrolling the river.
They arrived in Charles Towne a short time later. The British-held city provided the main port for English supplies entering the Southern colonies. From the ferry’s deck, Elise watched as ship after ship filled every available berth, their tall masts rising high like a forest of leafless, swaying trees. Seagulls squawked as they dipped and dived in the cloudless blue sky.
With no berth available, the ferry captain anchored in the harbor. He signaled a pair of skiffs to transport his passengers ashore. Grateful for the development, Elise viewed the situation as a blessing. With the ferry anchored away from shore, enemy soldiers would be less tempted to search the nondescript craft. Evidently the Lord had taken pity on her after all.
Elise stepped aboard the second of the smaller boats. Amberly followed and sat beside her on one of the rough-hewn benches that ran horizontally within the skiff. Seven other passengers joined them. The craft moved at speed once the oars were put to water.
The closer they came to the pier, the greater the odor. The stink of rotting fish, unwashed bodies and overripe produce infested the wind. Elise removed a scented handkerchief from the satchel she held secure in her lap and covered her nose and mouth.
Drake leaned close. “As I said, Miss Cooper, women are often more clever than men. If not, I’d be the one with something to spare my nose from this stench.”
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