Captive Pride (7 page)

“Perhaps another time then?”

“Of course,”

CC was paying little attention to their small talk as she sat at the table opposite Noah. The titillation of his touch had left her disturbed and distracted, and she was still wondering, in some confusion, why she had reacted the way she had. What was there about this man that he had the power to unsettle her with such a simple touch? Surely, CC tried to rationalize, it was only because Kincade was handsome, and nothing else. But even as she made the effort to convince herself of that, she knew that she had been with good-looking men before and had never experienced any reaction like this. Finally, unable to find a logical answer, she determinedly put all thoughts of it from her and busied herself with the meal.

“We're having a formal ball on Friday evening, and we'd be honored to have both you and your brother attend,” Edward invited.

“It's most kind of you to include us, Edward,” Noah replied graciously, hoping that the rebels he needed to meet with did not hold their next meeting that night.

“Then you'll come?”

“Matthew and I would be delighted.”

“That's wonderful.” Edward smiled widely as he glanced at CC. She had been quiet during the dinner, too quiet, and he wanted to bring her into the conversation. “Don't you agree, CC?”

“Oh, definitely, Father.” CC forced a smile as she looked up. She fought to keep her expression pleasant, but when her gaze unwittingly locked with Noah's, she couldn't hide the irritation she felt at knowing that he would be in attendance Friday night. Thank heaven she had John! At least with him as her escort, she would be able to avoid Kincade as much as possible.

Noah saw the flicker of annoyance in CC's face, and his eyes narrowed as he regarded her coldly. CC found herself staring into his impenetrable silvered gaze. Though she was unnerved by the complete lack of warmth in his mirrored regard, she held his eyes levelly, breaking away only when the sound of her father's voice broke the mood.

“Good, good,” Edward was saying cheerfully. He had been so absorbed in his food that he had missed the sudden tension between them.

Desperate for something to say to prove to him that she had not been affected by his frigid glare, CC asked, “How old is your brother, Lord Kincade?”

“Matthew is seventeen, although he'll be the first to tell you that he'll be eighteen within the month,” Noah smiled.

It was the first time that CC had seen him smile, and the transformation in him was nothing short of amazing. His features before had been so cruelly arrogant, so set and hard. Yet when he smiled, he seemed a different man. His whole countenance had been softened by the power of that one gesture, and she wondered distractedly what it would be like if he ever smiled at her that way.

Her musings were interrupted then as the dessert was served, and when they'd eaten their fill of the chef's creamy concoction, they retired to the parlor to savor an after-dinner drink.

CC wanted nothing more than to retire to her room, to get away from Kincade's disturbing presence, but she knew she had no good reason to go to her chambers early. She had to remain and help entertain her father's guest.

“The dinner was delicious, Edward,” Noah complimented as he accepted a snifter of brandy from his host. “Extend my best to your chef. He's a talented fellow.”

“Indeed he is. I'm most fortunate to have him in my employ,” Edward agreed as he presented CC with her liqueur before seating himself beside her on the sofa. “You'll have to come to dinner often. We'd be delighted to have you.”

Noah sipped casually of his brandy. “Your hospitality is most welcome. I appreciate it.”

CC almost choked on her liqueur at her father's open-ended invitation. That would be all she'd need…Lord Kincade to dinner regularly. It took all her willpower not to show her displeasure at the prospect.

They chatted idly for a while, Noah filling Edward in on things back in England, and he, in turn, describing the pleasures of life in Boston.

“Tell me of the political scene,” Noah ventured, wanting his opinion on what he'd heard the day before. “Yesterday at the inn, Matthew and I overheard a conversation between two merchants regarding unrest here. Is there any truth to the talk?”

“I'm afraid there is some truth to it.”

“Oh? What's the problem?”

“The troublemakers are nothing but blithering idiots! That's the problem,” he told him heatedly.

“Who are they?” His question was mildly put, a mere request from someone who wanted to know what was going on.

“The refuse of the earth,” Edward snorted in disgust.

“Is it true that they want independence from the king?” Noah tried to sound incredulous.

“They're always trying to stir up trouble, but this time they're going too far. It won't work. We're loyal here. Have no doubt about that.”

“Oh, I don't doubt your loyalty to the Crown, Edward. I was just trying to understand why anyone would want to break away.”

“I don't understand it.” He took a drink of his brandy. “It seems outrageously drastic to me to scream for independence over a simple tax on tea. There have been arguments in Parliament before over taxes. I'm sure there always will be.”

CC tensed as her father tried to dismiss as unworthy the grievances of the dissenters.

“Indeed?”

“The agitators have been stirring mobs to action. They're trying to encourage an open rebellion against the king, but it won't work. This stupid tax on tea they're complaining about is negligible, and this argument that England now holds a monopoly on the tea trade is a most ridiculous complaint….”

“Father…” CC's tone was hard as she sat stiffly next to him, and Edward glanced at her with warm affection.

“My daughter is of a differing view, I'm afraid.”

“Oh?” Noah looked to CC, noticing the high color in her cheeks and the way her eyes flashed with an inner fire.

“She thinks it's wrong that—”

“I can speak for myself, Father,” CC cut in righteously, completely forgetting her father's admonition to keep her opposing opinions to herself. “It's a fact that Parliament has given the British East India Company a monopoly on the tea trade in our country. The point is, we cannot stand by and allow this to happen!”

“You say ‘our country,'” Noah pointed out. “England and her colonies are one and the same.”

CC gave a cutting laugh. “Hardly. We are not treated fairly, Lord Kincade. You Englishmen tax us without giving us a voice in our own affairs! We are—”

“Enough, daughter!” Edward interrupted, embarrassed by her cutting frankness. “Lord Kincade, I'm sure, is not interested in any of this.”

Silence hung tautly in the room as CC stood, breathless and magnificent in her barely restrained anger. It had been a long day—first, John's domineering attitude, then her father's. CC knew that if she didn't leave the room, she might say something she would later regret.

“As you can see, my father and I do differ on several major points of political interest. So if you'll excuse me? I believe I shall retire for the evening.” Without waiting for an answer, CC swept from the room.

“My apologies,” Edward began humbly, hoping his daughter's outburst hadn't discouraged Kincade's interest in doing business with him. “As I said before, CC is a most spirited young woman and—”

“That she is,” Noah replied dryly, “but there's no need to apologize.”

Noah had never known a woman to speak out so forcefully, and he found himself intrigued. She had the beauty of an angel, yet her temperament was fiery, her tongue sharp, and her convictions deep. Noah wondered why Edward had even allowed her to voice an opinion. Such was generally unheard of in England. Still, the news she'd imparted helped. It seemed there had to be truth to the talk of revolution if even the women were getting involved. He smiled slightly. All indications were that the
Pride
's shipment was going to be just the thing.

“You weren't offended?” Edward was surprised by his attitude.

Noah answered wryly, “Hardly, but I have to admit I was taken aback to find two such differing opinions in one household.”

Sighing, Edward rose and went to the liquor cabinet to refill his snifter. “I made the mistake of encouraging CC to grow intellectually, to think for herself, and to form her own opinions. I never dreamed hers would be so at odds with mine.”

“The curse of many a parent, I would think,” Noah replied nonchalantly as he swirled his brandy in the snifter before drinking of the heady brew.

“I'm sure,” Edward agreed. “You seem most interested in the unrest. Have you any thoughts on the matter?”

“I'm afraid I don't know quite enough about it yet to have full understanding of the incidents. I was asking more for business reasons.”

“Business reasons?”

“As you know, my other ship, the
Sea Pride,
is due in port soon.”

“Yes, so?”

“The
Pride
's carrying a full shipment of military supplies,” he informed him.

Edward nodded pensively before saying slowly, “As much as I hate to admit it, I'm afraid they may be needed by our troops.”

“I had been advised before I set sail that arms might be the most profitable of cargoes, but as an Englishman, I had hoped not,” Noah lied as he looked slightly remorseful.

“And I, too, but you see how easily tempers flare….” He shrugged, the action reflecting what seemed to be a weariness of soul over the matter. “There are powerful men involved in it now—rich merchant John Hancock, for one—and they're determined that there will be changes. He has quite a following, he and Sam Adams.”

“Sam Adams?” Noah frowned. “I don't believe I've heard his name mentioned before. What's his connection with this?”

Edward went on to explain the fiery orator's involvement with the Whig Party and his dealings with the shadowy group called the Sons of Liberty, unaware that CC was on the staircase listening intently to their conversation. It wasn't that she had been trying to hear their discussion, but their words had carried out into the hall. CC had been unable to ignore Kincade's statement that his ship was transporting war materials to the colonies.
Damn him!
she thought in outraged fury. He was one of those directly responsible for bringing in the military arms that would be used by the hated redcoats to maim and kill innocent civilians.

Her small fists clenched in futile fury, despising Lord Noah Kincade even more than she had before, she ran up the steps, anxious to seek out the solitude of her bedroom. He was dealing in war supplies. He would profit from their use. No wonder he'd wanted to know about the political situation!

CC was glad when she reached her room to discover that Anna was not there waiting for her. The last thing she needed was her maid asking her endless questions about “handsome Lord Kincade.”
Ugh!
she thought forcefully. She undressed on her own, pulled on her nightdress, and plopped down on her bed in frustrated irritation. Kincade was a pompous ass…an unprincipled cad…a…a…Yet even as she condemned him, CC couldn't help but remember the way her body had responded to his touch, and she wondered what it was about him that he could destroy her cool equilibrium with just a caress.

The disquieting remembrance stayed despite CC's best effort to banish Kincade totally from her mind, and when she heard the carriage pull to a stop in front of the house, she quickly climbed out of bed and rushed to the window. There, safely hidden behind the heavy velvet drapes, she watched in silence as Kincade strode purposefully to the conveyance and climbed in. It was only after the carriage had disappeared down the street that she returned to the warm comfort of her bed and sought elusive sleep.

CC couldn't believe her luck as she dutifully walked her father to the front door late the following evening.

“I hope everything goes well for you, Papa,” she told him, kissing his cheek as she bid him good-bye.

“I don't understand why this meeting is so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow morning, but I shall endeavor to make the best of it,” he groused. “As it's late already, I'll no doubt be delayed past midnight. Don't wait up for me. I'll just see you in the morning.”

“Yes, Papa,” CC answered respectfully as he started down the steps to his waiting carriage. “Good night.”

“Good night, CC.”

She watched until his conveyance was out of sight before moving back inside and closing the door against the slight chill in the night air. It was with a great sigh of relief that she gathered up her skirts and darted for the staircase. Now that he was out of the way, it was time to move, and move quickly. Hurrying to her bedroom, she locked the door securely behind her and began a breathless search through the darkest corners of her armoire to find her hidden cache. When at last she had the secret bundle in hand, CC tossed it on the bed and began to undress. She was busy struggling to unbutton the buttons of her dress when the knock came at her door.

“Miss CC?” Anna's call was muffled through the locked door.

“Yes, Anna. What is it?” CC took care to keep her tone relaxed.

“I was just wondering if you were going to be needing me anymore tonight.”

“No, I don't think so. Why?”

“Well, I'm not feeling real good. I thought I'd go to bed early, if it's all right with you, of course.”

“You go on to bed. I'll be just fine. In fact, I was thinking about retiring early myself.

“Thank you, Miss CC.”

“Good night, Anna. Get some rest.”

“Yes, ma'am. I'm sure I'll be fit as a fiddle in the morning. Good night.”

CC smiled to herself as she considered how perfectly everything was going. She had worried that she would have difficulty sneaking out of the house undetected at this late hour, but her father's unexpected imperative business meeting and now Anna's illness had rendered her escape a most easy matter.

Conquering her stubborn buttons, CC slipped out of her gown and quickly shed her petticoats and chemise before moving to the bed to untie the parcel she'd retrieved from her armoire. With eager hands, she pulled on the wrinkled, dark-colored boy's clothing, buttoning the loose-fitting shirt over her full breasts and tucking it into the waistband of the knee breeches. White stockings and heavier, low-heeled boy's shoes were donned, along with a baggy, nondescript vest to camouflage the swell of her bosom. Anxious to be gone, CC moved quickly to the mirror to pin her heavy mane up. That done, she snatched up the tricorn that completed her disguise and carefully anchored it on her head.

A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that any resemblance between her current self and young Miss Cecelia Demorest was remote. The breeches were skintight, as the young boys wore them, hugging her hips and thighs revealingly, but the baggy shirt and overlong vest helped to conceal her more feminine curves. She felt a sense of freedom whenever she wore her boyish garb, and she took secret delight in these times when she got to carry out her masquerade.

Though she knew she was being outrageously daring every time she ventured into town so disguised, she also knew that there was nothing more important in her life than being involved in the movement to rid the colonies of the hated British domination. It was necessary for her to pretend to be a lad in order to move about the city unobserved. A woman traveling alone at this time of night would draw undue attention to herself, but the sight of a boy walking the streets after dark was not uncommon.

Satisfied that even her father would have trouble identifying her should they meet on the dark Boston streets, she straightened her room and arranged her pillows under the covers on her bed to resemble a sleeping body, just in case someone decided to come checking on her. After unlocking the bedroom window that opened nearest the massive oak tree, CC took one last surveying glance around the chamber to be certain that all was set to rights, and then climbed nimbly out into the tree's thick, supportive branches.

 

Though he had spent the entire day on board the
Lorelei
going over the ledgers and manifests with Lyle, Noah was not particularly tired as he retired to his room that night. If anything, he felt strangely tense, as if a huge spring were coiled deep within him. Accustomed to being in complete control of himself, he found the stress annoying. Still, he knew the cause. It had been two days and he had not yet heard from Joshua Smith. He was certain that the rebel would contact him eventually, but that knowledge didn't make the waiting any easier.

Restlessly he moved to the washstand, poured a bowl of water, and then began to strip off his shirt. Bared to the waist, he idly rubbed the taut muscles in his neck, wishing that the inn boasted whiskey of the same caliber as he'd had at Demorest's home the night before. Certainly a glass of the smooth, strong liquor would help to settle the unusual uneasiness that gripped him.

The memory of the evening at Demorest's brought a fleeting thought of Edward's daughter, CC, and Noah grimaced. Lovely though she was, her profession of disliking him even before they'd met had done nothing to endear her to him. Not that it mattered, of course, for he had no intention of becoming involved with any woman. Still, it had been a most amusing scene when she'd turned to find him standing behind her in the hall. A slight smile curved the grim line of his mouth as he remembered her startled expression and the becoming blush that had stained her cheeks upon his most gallant introduction. Certainly, since she'd promised her father to do her best to “make him feel welcome,” the ball Friday night did promise some amusement.

The knock at Noah's door interrupted his thoughts, and thinking that it was probably Polly, he did not bother to pull on his shirt as he strode forth to open it. The sight of a tall stranger standing impatiently in the deep shadows of the hall, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, took him by surprise.

“Kincade?”

“I'm Lord Kincade,” he replied, regarding him levelly.

“I'm Joshua Smith.” Smith eyed the half-dressed Englishman skeptically. He had no use for these fancy aristocrats, and he took an immediate dislike to this one.

“Mr. Smith…please come in.” Noah held the door wide and then closed it securely behind him. “Have you come with an answer for me?” he asked quickly as he snatched up his shirt and began to dress.

“There are a few matters we have to discuss before we get to that,” Smith answered obliquely, waiting until he had Noah's complete attention before bluntly speaking his mind.

“Didn't Captain Russell tell you everything?” Noah was immediately on the defensive.

“He told me some.”

“And?”

“And we don't trust your kind, Kincade. Might as well get that out in the open right now.”

“I see.” Noah's tone was icy. “What is it that you feel you need to clear up about me?”

“I've cleared up a lot on my own, but what I haven't been able to find out is exactly why you're interested in selling to us and not the government. It seems rather odd to me that a nobleman like yourself would be willing to turn your back on your own kind.”

Noah's gaze turned steely as the man's question touched a nerve, and he replied with cold precision, “Why I'm doing this is none of your business. Either you are interested in what I have to sell or you're not. And if you're not, I'm certain there are others who would be more than willing to pay my price. It's that simple.”

They stood glaring at each other for a long moment, measuring one another's worth.

After weighing all he knew, Smith gave an abrupt nod. “The meeting's tonight. We have to leave now.”

Noah nodded tersely, not revealing any weakness to the rebel. The last thing he'd wanted was a discussion of his motives or a disclosure of his more recent past. It was private. Something he would never discuss again. “Fine, I'll—”

A sharp rap on his door cut him off.

“Noah?” Matt called out.

“Who is it?” Smith's tone was angry.

“My brother.”

“Russell didn't say anything about you having a brother. Get rid of him.”

Noah partially opened the door to speak to Matt. “What is it?”

“I thought I heard voices, and I thought something might be wrong….”

“There's nothing wrong, Matt,” he dismissed curtly. “Just business.”

“I see.” He knew that he had heard voices, and he now understood exactly what was transpiring. The rebel contact…

“I'm going out,” Noah informed him in a tone that brooked no response. “I'm not sure when I'll return.”

“I'll be up,” he answered. Though he did not approve of his brother's plan of action, he wanted to know exactly what was going on.

When Noah turned back to Smith, the colonist was watching him with narrowed eyes. “How much does he know?”

“Only the business end of the deal. Nothing else. There's no need for him to be involved.”

He studied the nobleman for a long moment. “Get ready. We have to go. And wear something dark. We don't want anybody taking notice of you when we're in the back streets.”

Noah pulled on his dark coat and quickly followed Smith from the room.

 

John Robinson was waiting for CC several blocks from her house, and they started on the trek to the Green Dragon Inn together, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast lest they run into someone they knew.

“Did you have any trouble getting away?” he worried.

“No. Luckily father had a business meeting he had to go to. As I figure it, I should make it home before he does,” she told him, matching him stride for manly stride as they trudged on toward the inn.

“CC, you don't know how I worry about you….” John began hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to continue this charade? You know the risk you're taking.”

He glanced at her quickly, and the look he gave her reflected his disgust with her outfit. He thought it much too dangerous when she disguised herself to attend the meetings. She was a lady and should act like one.

“John…” The unspoken threat was in her tone as she halted and faced him squarely, hands on hips.

“I know,” he replied, annoyed by his inability to control her. As much as he loved her, he found himself growing more and more disenchanted with her whenever he came up against her independent, headstrong ways.

“Then let's go.” She stalked off. CC had hoped that their conversation the previous day had blunted his feelings, but he seemed just as possessive and dictatorial as ever.

They reached the Green Dragon Inn without speaking again and, after giving the appropriate password, were admitted to the secluded room above the stable where the meeting was to be held. Greetings were exchanged among those present along with news received from the other colonies by the Committees of Correspondence.

“I've heard that an outsider is coming tonight,” Jack Dearborn, a small, nervous man who moved in the inner circles of the group, confided to CC and John as they settled in around the large table.

“Who?”

“Don't know his name, but I know there was a lot of arguing among the leaders as to whether to deal with him or not.”

“Why did they decide to do it?” CC wondered. “Is he someone important?”

“More importantly, is he someone we can trust?” John asked.

Jack shrugged. “Don't know. All I know is that Joshua is bringing him. They'll probably show up a little later.”

John and CC exchanged puzzled glances as they tried to imagine why a stranger would be admitted to their midst. Times were treacherous enough without risking the sanctity of the meetings.

A respectful hush fell over those gathered as John Hancock entered, followed closely by Sam Adams. They were a study in contrasts, the rich merchant and the fiery orator. Hancock, impeccably groomed, was a perfect example of the successful Bostonian. Adams, his gray wig askew, his brown suit badly in need of pressing, his shoes scuffed, tended to look as if outward appearances meant nothing to him.

All listened attentively as Adams, furious and indignant over the news he'd just received, addressed the group first. In his usual impassioned manner, he bombarded those present with the outrageous revelation that, along with the terrible monopoly given the British East India Company over colonial trade, Governor Hutchinson had cleverly arranged to have his own sons appointed as agents for the tea, thus ensuring their own future riches at the expense of everyone else. Graft and corruption! Monopoly!

Local merchants would be driven out of business by the English dominance! The people would starve! And if Parliament could ordain a monopoly on tea, what was to stop them from setting up other singular controls?

Those at the meeting responded with indignant fury at the news Adams imparted, and a rumble of protest swept through the room.

“There is only one solution to these abuses!” he declared. “We must be freed from tyranny! We must be independent! It's the only answer!”

Cheers of agreement answered his call, and Adams then relinquished the floor to Ryan Graves.

“I think we all are in accord with Sam's assessment of our situation. We are sending notice to the other colonies through our Committee of Correspondence to try to block the sale of English tea, and while this may help, it will not end the problem.”

“Here, here!” someone shouted in a patriotic frenzy.

“There is only one way to end Britain's stranglehold on us…” Graves's tone lowered as he prepared to deliver the most important bit of news. “There is only one solution, and it's inevitable. We must be ready! It is precisely for that reason that I have agreed to meet with a man Joshua Smith tells me could help our cause.”