Authors: Juliet Waldron
Chapter Three
They rode in silence. Angelica, who thought she ought to keep up her guard, found herself lulled by the strong body her arms enclosed, as well as by the loveliness of the warm, bright spring day.
The river on their left sparkled, each ripple capped with a glittering top. Birds sang in the high branches. Ducks bobbed in ceremonious courtship among the rushes.
“You were in the army, I understand,” she finally said. It was easier to make conversation
then
silently dwell on the events of the last two hours.
“His Majesty’s cavalry. For twenty years.”
“You must’ve been young going in,” she said, suddenly wondering if she misjudged his age.
“I was eleven.”
“Truly?
”
“I was formally an ensign, but my actual work was as a servant to a major. I blacked his boots and ran his errands. My first promotion was to cleaning up after his horse,” he said with a grin. “Old Cummings knew how to handle me.”
“What could a boy of eleven have done to merit such a punishment?”
“Well, I was in and out of scrapes from the time I could walk. When my father died, my grandsire, the general, could see my mother wasn’t up to coping with me and sent me to the army. It was, he said, an occupation well suited to a wild ruffian of a third son.”
“You seem quite orderly now,” Angelica said.
“I assure you, Miss TenBroeck—” He turned his head to smile at her. “—I am.”
“Have you seen action, sir?”
“Oh, yes. I started in Ireland, then was ordered to Lower Canada and, after that, I spent time in Germany. At first, I confess, I was enough of a barbarian to like the army. Time makes changes, though, and after Germany, I’d had enough. My mother felt it would be useful to her if I’d come to America and oversee her property.”
“You might’ve got a posting,” Angelica said. “Especially now.” “It was better for my purposes to be a private citizen.”
“I hope you do not find me rude, but I’ve heard there were other reasons for you to leave England.”
“Yes.” He turned his head to give her a thoughtful look. “It was prudent.”
“But a bad time to look into your business here—in the middle of all this.”
“Well, this was supposed to be over in a few months. At least, according to the Tory politicians.”
“I think the Tory politicians are in for a surprise, in spite of how badly we were beaten at White Plains.”
“I think there’s something in what you say,” he replied.
Angelica was pleased—and surprised—by that, for Jack didn’t seem to be humoring her, but simply assessing the situation.
“I cannot say I approve of dueling,” she continued, daring to remark upon the gossip she’d heard.
“Even when it’s in defense of a lady?”
“Was that the subject of your quarrel?” Minerva had said “over a woman.” Now, the way Jack said it, it sounded different.
“Yes, and I would do it again. You know, miss, my mother is a widow. She sometimes complains about the lot of her sex. She has had offers for her hand, but she always refuses, saying she’d far rather be widow than wife.
”
“Still, until this spring, I’d never given her attitude much thought. Lately, however, I’ve come to the conclusion that the world is, in many ways, unfair to your sex.
”
Angelica had never heard a man voice such an opinion. Sometimes, her Uncle Jacob said the world was dangerous for women, especially for those “without a man’s protection.” He never, however, said this state of things was “unfair.”
“I confess, sir, it is true,” Angelica replied. “Although my Aunt Laetitia and my Uncle Jacob, too, both say I am not properly biddable, as a woman ought to be.”
“I will recklessly state here and now that no woman worth her salt is ever biddable,” Jack replied. “For instance, when I came from behind the curtain, you did not wait to see what I wanted, and you didn’t bother with screaming. Instead, you sensibly tried to knock my brains out.”
He kept turning his head to talk to her, always, she noted, showing her the side without the scar. Close against his back, she saw him in profile, his fair English complexion and one lovely, long-lashed, clear eye, etched about with the fine lines of good humor.
How hard he was, how muscular! After the terror this morning, it was unnerving to be so close to so much man.
“I was far too frightened to do anything else,” she replied, trying to keep her thoughts away from the virility her arms embraced.
“Fear is often good sense, not the same as cowardice at all. Had I known you were such a cool hand, I would’ve been more careful,” he added. “Still, the odds of a rescue were not very good. The best plan would’ve been to smash whatever head presented itself with the hardest object you could find. Worry about who you’ve knocked senseless later.”
“Truly?”
“Oh, yes. Surprise is always the superior tactic, Miss TenBroeck, especially when you are the weaker party.
”
“I will remember that.”
They shared a smile, then he turned to look ahead.
“Had you been in the house long, sir?” Angelica asked.
“Armistead and the madame were in the hall while I waited on the stairs. I confess, miss, one more bullying word from him and I would’ve knocked him down the stairs. And her after him.”
“Didn’t you also say that discretion is the better part of valor?” she teased.
“I’m better at giving advice than taking it,” he said.
***
There was company on the road now—first carters and drovers, then a tight square of marching redcoats. When Angelica saw them, she shrank and shivered.
Noticing, Jack ran a hand over her arm. “Don’t let them see you are afraid,” he murmured. “It might set someone wondering. Do you know why we suddenly have so much company?”
“We’re close to the ferry.”
In another half mile, they would encounter the narrow blue band of the Harlem River that cut off Manhattan Island from the mainland.
Jack made his way to the ferry master, who explained his next two trips were full of soldiers and supplies, but he marked them down for the third passage. They retreated to a place where they could rest, but remain inconspicuous.
Already waiting, a covered wagon festooned with pots and pans, sat beneath the trees. The father smoked his pipe while his wife sewed. Their children whooped and threw a ball for a cheerfully barking yellow dog.
Further along, however, they found solitude in the green shade of willows. Jack threw his leg over his horse’s neck and slid down, then turned to help Angelica. She went into his strong hands without apprehension.
He clasped her waist and let her down very slowly. It was as if he wanted to show off his strength by not hurrying.
As if he wants to hold me for as long as possible...
For one alarming instant, Angelica saw a playful flash in those silver eyes, as if he wanted to use the up-in-the-air moment for a kiss. Instead, with careful deliberation, Jack gently set her on her feet.
“Miss TenBroeck,” he said, formally bowing her towards a fallen tree. This, from the lack of bark, looked as if it was often used as a bench.
Angelica sat. She could feel her cheeks glowing, though she wasn’t sure why.
“I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough for taking me out of that terrible house, Mr. Carter—for getting me away from that man. I— I—”
Speech failed her. She was a lady, but hardly sheltered. Raised on a frontier farm among the sights of the barnyard, what Armistead had planned was no mystery. Moreover, hadn’t she read—with fascinated horror and many tears—the tragic novel Clarissa, whose heroine is abducted and then raped in a brothel?
Instead of words, she simply shuddered. The evil I have so narrowly escaped—
“Try not to think of it,” Jack said. “‘Tis
the
past.” In the ensuing silence, a warm hand came to enclose hers.
“You’ve put yourself in jeopardy for a stranger, sir,” she finally managed. His understanding, his touch, kept her throat tight. “And— and—such generosity from a loyal subject of His Majesty to a rebel’s child! Major Armistead said I was spoils of war, that anything could fairly be done to me.”
“A contemptible opinion from a contemptible man,” Jack replied. “He had earlier offered to marry you, I hear.”
“Yes, and he had just made that proposal again—as if I could believe anything said to me in such a situation. In a small way, I am an heiress, Mr. Carter,” Angelica confessed. “The major made it plain my property was a great attraction. He said after—after—I would have no choice but to marry him.”
danger she was in. No feigned innocence, either.
Not only a beauty and an heiress, but a great lady! And here she is, the prize my mother promised, dropped into my hand like a ripe apple. I wonder if she’d bolt if I told her that my real name is Jack Church, not Jack Carter? Would she put two and two together, remember that it is my mother’s property which—so conveniently— adjoins her own?
Instantly, Jack rejected the notion. Miss TenBroeck was smart as a whip and, besides, all these Hudson Valley Dutch knew kith and kin back ten generations. In fact, through their Livingston mothers, Angelica and Jack were distant cousins.
He fought back the idea of what she’d feel like in his arms, of the probable taste of her sweet mouth. He did not want his unruly male self to rush, to frighten her.
“I have been in New York but three weeks,” Jack was careful with his reply, “but I’ve already heard the major’s—amusements—have come near to bankrupting him.”
“How on earth did you discover his plan to abduct me?”
“One of his men, a decent fellow, a common soldier who’d served with me in Canada, spilled the beans. By the time his conscience got the better of him, however, it was far too late to go to Governor Tryon. A man who knows Crimp’s establishment told me about the outside stairway and the hidden door. So, I filled my purse and sent a few messages. Then Daniel and I galloped out there.”
The lady beside him shivered. Jack hoped his story didn’t seem too pat.
“What do you mean,” she asked, turning away from the shining river, “about a special sympathy for my sex?”
Well, he thought, it is a bitter story and a true one. ‘Twill not harm my cause to repeat it.
“Miss, the young lady I fought my duel over was my second cousin. She was seduced, used by a scoundrel, and discarded in a house like the one I just took you from. Her father was willing to leave her there. He, exactly like the world, judged the sin to be hers. It was left to me to seek justice. I killed the man who dishonored and abandoned her, and I shall never repent the deed.”
The way he spoke, his gray eyes turning to flint, sent another shiver through Angelica.
It was a story far removed from what Minerva had intimated... “My family is respected, and their pockets reasonably deep,” Jack continued, “but not enough to protect me entirely, for my adversary
was highly placed. That is the long and the short of how I come to be in America.”
“You speak of this unfortunate young woman in the past tense.” Angelica crossed her arms over her bosom tightly and hugged. Her own raw brush with the nightmare was horribly fresh.
“Yes, Miss TenBroeck,” Jack replied solemnly. “Mary was in decline when I found her. Although I left her safe, in a good country place, she died. You see she had been in love with the bastard. Her death was the last news I had before I sailed.”
There was no more to say. Clearly unsettled himself, Jack turned his attention to his horse. The big bay had edged close, and was now trying to push a black velvet nose into his master’s pocket.
“This fellow—Hal is his name—he and I, we’ve been through some adventures together. Even though he’s not young, I could not leave him.”
Out of the pocket he pulled a withered winter apple, apparently what the horse had been after. “He’s gelded, so there was no good reason to bring him, but he’s just too much of a trusty friend to leave behind.”
There, Angelica thought as she watched the horse’s fuzzy lips receive the apple, is a being who does not know how to lie about his feelings. This horse has been treated well—and for many years—by this gentleman stranger.
She was soothed by the sight of Jack stroking Hal. His strong fingers rubbed the horse’s ruddy ears and caressed his black poll.
As she watched, the horse closed his eyes in pleasure. After a while, Jack stepped back and began a search for something in the saddlebag.
“The sun will be down in three hours. Will we come upon an inn?” he asked. “I hear they are scarce.”
“They are indeed. Before the war, we could simply sail up to Kingston. Just above Tarrytown, the cliffs come right down to the river and the road becomes very difficult.”
“I’ve heard the gaps are full of bandits, so we shall try the water.” “With your pass, we can sail all the way to Newburgh.”