Chapter Fourteen
It was early morning when Georgina woke her from a sound sleep. Rebecca bit back tears when she realized the space beside her was cold, indicating Alex had left the bed many hours ago. A faint indent remained on the pillow he used. Only that and the ache between her thighs offered proof that his visit in the night had not been a fevered dream.
“Mrs. Gallow is here to see you, m’lady.”
Before Georgina had completely uttered the sentence, Elizabeth burst into the room. Her blonde hair was in disarray, and her eyes were red from weeping. Her green pelisse hung off one shoulder, and the yellow morning dress underneath wasn’t buttoned properly. She held a crumpled piece of paper in hands bare of gloves.
With a curtsy, Georgina slipped from the room.
Rebecca scrunched under the covers, attempting to hide her state of undress. “What has happened, sister?”
She waved the letter in her hands. “Mama and Clarise are coming here to Boston.”
“Because I got married?”
“Of course not. Mama does not know of that yet.” She took a deep breath mingled with a sob. “She is virtually penniless. Aimes helped her smuggle a few valuable items from Stanhope Manor and pawn them. She was able to recover a few thousand pounds from the bank before the creditors got to the accounts, but that is all.”
“Slow down, Elizabeth. What are you talking about?” Her heart had stuttered at the mention of creditors.
“Father owed so much money that there are not sufficient funds to cover all of his debts. The creditors came knocking and seized the house and assets, allowing Mama only a few hours to pack. She and Clarise stayed at an inn for a few days while arranging passage to America.”
“They were driven from England?”
“Fled, Rebecca. Viscount Riche withdrew his offer for Clarise’s hand after the terrible rumors surfaced and news of Father’s debts leaked out. Mama and our sister are pariahs in London.” Elizabeth pleated the thick paper between her fingers.
“What rumors?” she asked in a hoarse voice, dreading the answer.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I cannot say them.” She hurried forward and thrust the abused missive at Rebecca.
She pulled an arm from the covers to lift the letter.
My Dearest Elizabeth, By the time you receive this missive, your sister and I shall be on our way to Boston. I anticipate we shall arrive within the two months following receipt of this letter. Many dreadful things have happened to change our circumstances, beginning with that fool, Lord Fenwick. At one of the gaming hells, deep in his cups, he sputtered ridiculous nonsense about a deal with your father. He claimed Winston paid him the sum of 100 pounds to stage the duel and shoot him.
Some refused to believe, but many shunned us. Viscount Riche withdrew his offer for Clarise’s hand. Poor dear is horribly distraught still. When I thought it could get no worse, the creditors stepped forward, picking at our fortune and your father’s reputation like the vultures they are.
Rebecca dropped the letter on the bed, needing to read no more. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “How could Father do such a thing?”
Elizabeth’s response was a wail and wringing of her hands. “I am so ashamed.”
She nodded. “As am I, but we are not responsible for Father’s actions.”
“All in Boston will know of these events within days of Mama’s arrival.” She turned white. “Many missives arrived today. Do you suppose all and sundry have been informed by now?”
Rebecca shrugged, accidentally displacing her sheet, which she hastily restored.” I do not know. It matters not.”
“Rebecca!”
“We cannot run from the scandal, so we must face it bravely.” She bit back a groan, realizing how news of her hasty marriage would cause the rumors to spread even more quickly. “However, there is nothing wrong with regrouping.”
Elizabeth looked confused.
“Begin your confinement early. You had planned to cancel social events in two weeks. Do so now. Refuse visitors and invitations. Allow some of the talk to die before venturing forth again.”
Her sister blinked. Calm seemed to gradually replace the fear on her face. “That is wise, dear sister.” She wiped her cheeks. “You are rational, as always.”
She inclined her head.
“What shall you do? I have a perfect excuse for taking a rest, but you will be expected to be out and about.”
Rebecca’s brow furrowed. By her count, she had seven months until her child came, so she could not use that as her excuse for declining obligations. “I will say I am spending time with my husband in privacy to get reacquainted.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He will be gone in a day. That will be the end of that reasoning.”
“What?”
Her sister frowned. “He told Philip yesterday that he must leave on business tomorrow. He asked us to check on you and keep up your spirits.”
She bit her knuckle to fight back a scream. “He knew even then and did not tell me?”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “I am sorry, Rebecca. I assumed you knew.”
She forced an overly bright smile for her sister. “I knew of the voyage but did not expect it to be so soon. Perhaps I will accompany him.”
She gasped. “You cannot go with him while he does business. No, we must think of another excuse.”
Rebecca sighed. “There is no need to excuse my absence, for I will face them all with my head held high. Mama and Clarise must do the same when they arrive, as should you when your child is born and you reenter society.”
Elizabeth nodded but still looked worried. “I should get home. Philip will be looking for me.”
Rebecca swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing she felt as brave as her words. “Good day, sister.”
As soon as Elizabeth departed, Rebecca slid from the bed and saw to her morning ablutions with a quick hand. When Georgina entered the chamber, she was struggling to fasten the buttons on a white muslin morning dress with two rouleaux trimming the bottom of the skirt. The maid hurried forward to offer assistance.
“Where is my husband, Georgina?”
“At his office near the docks, m’lady.”
“Please tell Henry I require transport.”
“Yes, madam.” She hurried from the room without a sound.
Rebecca put on a white bonnet trimmed with small pink flowers and grabbed a reticule as she swept from the room. The white slippers on her feet pinched, but she didn’t bother to search for a more comfortable pair. She paused only to put on a navy pelisse lined with ermine to protect her from the chilly morning air.
When she stepped outside her front door, she could hear the clatter of the horses’ hooves on the street. Henry and the carriage came around the block a few seconds later. She met him at the end of the walkway, waiting as he opened the door before climbing in. “Lord Hanover’s offices, please.”
He bowed his head, then closed the door and secured the latch. “Right away, m’lady.”
The jostling of the carriage through the uneven streets did nothing to quell Rebecca’s morning round of nausea. She gripped the strap hanging from the roof and focused on taking deep breaths until the carriage drew to a stop a short while later. She succeeded in subduing the nausea as she stepped from the carriage and got directions from Henry.
She switched to shallow breaths as the stench of rotting fish assaulted her nostrils. Rebecca fished a kerchief from the reticule and pressed it against her nose as she walked down the rough planks to Alex’s office. She entered the door the driver had indicated, finding an empty reception room filled with gleaming oak furniture. The carpet was a near match for her pelisse, which she removed and draped over the coat rack in the corner after returning the scrap of lace to her reticule. “Hello?”
A few seconds after her tentative query, a young man emerged from a door off to the left. He was tall and burly, with the complexion and look of a farmer, but the morning suit of a man of status. He bowed his head. “May I help you, m’lady?”
“I am here to see Alex.”
He opened a leather-bound book on the desk. “Do you have an appointment?”
She tilted her chin up another notch. “No.”
A frown marred his tanned brow. “I see. He is rather busy preparing for a voyage, m’lady—”
“So I have heard. You may tell him Lady Stan—” She shook her head. “Lady Hanover waits to see him.”
His mouth dropped open for a half-second before it closed with an audible click. “Begging your pardon, miss, er, madam. The captain said nothing about…” His cheeks had turned purple, and his hand seemed too large and awkward for the journal. “Congratulations.”
She gave him a brief smile and even briefer nod while she tapped her foot softly against the carpet. After he had disappeared through another door to the right, she turned her attention to the walls, focusing on the pictures.
Each was a miniature oil painting of a different ship. A schooner caught her eye, and she was squinting for the name when she felt Alex’s breath on her neck.
“That is Rebellious. She helped me build my import company when I arrived in Boston after my half-brother sent me away.”
She examined the two masts, searching for any sign of a Jolly Roger. “Was that your pirate ship?” she asked in a whisper.
He laughed. “Nay. She was Fury, the fastest little pinnace you could imagine.”
“You sound melancholy. Do you miss the life of a buccaneer?”
Alex shrugged. “Piracy is dangerous business and has fallen out of favor. I shall admit I miss the excitement at times, but it was not worth the risks. There are too many eager sailors with too much authority waiting with cannons for the careless or unlucky to make it a worthwhile enterprise.”
“So, tomorrow’s voyage is not to plunder?” She held her breath.
He scowled at her. “I have told you I am reformed.” His hand fell on her shoulder. “When did you learn of my trip?”
“Elizabeth paid a visit this morning. She is most distraught, m’lord.”
“Why?”
Rebecca turned from the picture to face him. “Rumors of my father’s deal with Fenwick have surfaced in London. The creditors tore our fortunes asunder and displaced Mama and Clarise from their home. She is coming to Boston to live.”
He nodded. “Your sister is concerned about repercussions among society?”
“Yes.” Rebecca’s lips trembled. “I fear them too. Already I would be the subject of rumor.” She touched her stomach. “Now it shall be unendurable.” To her surprise, he took her in his arms.
“I wish I could spare you the pain and shame, Rebecca, but I cannot.”
“Take me with you.”
He pulled away to look down at her. “Pardon?”
“May I come with you on your trip?”
“Nay.”
She glared up at him. “Why not? If you are doing nothing contrary to the law, why can I not accompany you?”
“It would be too dangerous.” His mouth firmed. “The waters are not safe from pirates even in this modern age, despite the risks to them—as you well know. I cannot needlessly endanger you or our child.”
She clutched a handful of his tan morning coat. “I do not wish to remain behind and face the wagging tongues.”
“They can only harm you if you allow them to. The blade of a villain does real damage.”
Rebecca toyed with the top self-covered button of his jacket, where the tails of his simple cravat disappeared. “You would protect me.”
“No, Rebecca. I cannot risk my most precious of treasures.”
She looked up at him with her eyes gleaming. “Truly?”
“Aye. You bear my son.” His expression closed. “Now, I shall see you home.”
She pulled away from him, desperate to hide her moist eyes. “There is no need to tear yourself away. Henry is waiting for me.” She hurried from the office, slamming the door behind her. She was glad he was leaving for—however long he would be gone. It would spare her the pain of his rejection for a few weeks. Perhaps it would even give her enough time to rein in her foolish heart and kill any feelings of affection for him once and for all.