Love’s Betrayal (26 page)

Late that night, Georgette snuggled into her featherbed, reading a novel by candlelight. Eyes wide, heart thumping, she sat up with a start when a knock came at her chamber door. “Who is there?” Then, recalling her role, she shoved the book under her blankets and lay back with one forearm across her eyes. “Enter.”

The door opened and hesitant footsteps crossed the room to pause near her bed. “Miss?” It was Biddy, the elderly chambermaid.

“Yes?” She put a pathetic quaver in her voice.

Biddy whimpered like a puppy. How odd. Georgette lifted her arm slightly.

A puppy goggled down at her, kicked its dangling legs, and whined again.

Georgette's eyes opened wide, and she sat upright. Biddy held the fawn-colored pug pup at arm's length. “The man told me to give it to you, missy. I am sorry to disturb you, but your parents are out, and Agnes hates dogs.”

“Oh, he is adorable!” Georgette reached for the pup and clutched him close. The puppy's pink tongue washed her cheek. Laughing, she held him away from her face. “Where did you say he came from?”

“A man, missy. Just now, at the front door. A cloak concealed his face, but he left this card.”

The puppy tugged at Georgette's braid while she read the inscription. “To Miss Georgette Talbot from a devoted admirer.”

She flung the braid back over her shoulder. “Is he still here?”

“I doubt it, miss.”

But even as Biddy spoke, Georgette scrambled out of bed, rushed to the window, and opened it wide. The street lamps below revealed a mounted horse standing in the middle of Broad Street.

“Hello!” She waved. The cloaked rider lifted his head.

“Missy! You'll catch your death standing at the window in your chemise. Your mother will be angry.”

Biddy's outrage discouraged her not a whit. “Thank you,” Georgette called down, cupping her hand around her mouth.

The rider lifted his hand. The horse wheeled and broke into a canter. Hoofbeats echoed down the empty city streets.

Georgette turned to meet Biddy's irate gaze, her hands clasped at her breast. “This is the most thrilling day of my life. Are you certain the man was a stranger, Biddy?”

The maid propped both hands on her scrawny hips. “You get back into that bed, missy, or I shall tell your mother about your showing yourself at the window in your chemise!”

“Oh Biddy, do not be foolish. I am certain he saw only a billowing white object. What did his voice sound like? Did he seem young or old?” A dreadful suspicion struck. Might her admirer be Mr. LaTournay?

“He sounded foreignlike. Not English like you, but maybe French or Spanish.”

An accent could be feigned. Georgette pulled on her bedgown, watching the pup waddle toward her across the tumbled counterpane, his curly tail wagging. No matter his origin, she loved her gift. When he reached her, she scooped him up and kissed his velvety head. “I must take my puppy to the garden, then find him something to eat. What is your name, pup? You are entirely sweet.”

For what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness?

2 C
ORINTHIANS
6:14

April 1775

F
or two hours Georgette sat and listened to a stand-in for the regular minister drone about the evils of disobedience to Mother England. Occasionally he referred to a Bible passage. Georgette tried to focus on the sermon, but her eyes kept straying toward a visitors' box across the church. The man seated there seemed familiar, though she could not see him clearly.

She was certain he had been watching the Talbot box. Perhaps he knew her father. She hoped he was not one of her father's gambling friends come to ask for payment. Papa never spoke of financial matters, but Georgette knew the situation at home was rapidly worsening. Montrose and two footmen had been let go over the winter, leaving only Biddy, Agnes, and Cook to keep the household running. For a family of high standing, two maids and one flighty Italian cook were insufficient household staff.

A disturbance outside sent a stir through the congregation. People glanced around, giving hushed exclamations of dismay.
Crack! Pop! Bang!
Cheering filled the streets, and the hoofbeats of running horses clattered along Broadway, yet the good reverend made no sign that he heard. Georgette decided the man must be deaf.

Several men slipped out of their boxes and headed for the door, among them the tall visitor. Georgette felt as though the minister would never stop, but eventually he wrapped up his oratory with a prolonged benediction.

Members of the congregation questioned each other in hushed tones, hurrying for the exits. Georgette followed her father into the churchyard as her mother stopped to chat with a friend. Firecrackers popped in the middle of the street. Boys in ragged clothes shouted. Although she was curious about the cause of this clamor, Georgette knew she could not barge into her father's conversation with a group of men. She glanced about in search of Marianne.

“Good day, Miss Talbot.”

Lifting one hand to shade her eyes from the spring sun's glare, she looked up. Her eyes widened, and heat rushed to her cheeks.

The visiting gentleman was Mr. LaTournay. “It is good to see you looking well,” he said quietly. “I trust you passed a healthy and profitable winter?”

She avoided meeting his gaze. “I—I am well, Mr. LaTournay. You are back in town?” Too late she realized the absurdity of her question.

“For a time. Have you heard the news?”

“No. What has happened?” Eager for information, she looked into his eyes.

“Four days ago, American and British troops fought a battle at Concord and Lexington, two villages not far from Boston. A courier brought the news just minutes ago. It was a defeat for the British, by his account.”

“Oh!” She covered her mouth with one hand and extended the other as if to ward off disaster. “How dreadful! What will become of us? Papa must agree to return to England now.”

LaTournay grasped her outflung hand. “I hope not too quickly.”

She yanked it away and glared at him. “It cannot be soon enough for me.”

The flicker in his eyes told her that her shaft had struck home; still he persisted. “May I call upon you sometime this week?”

Her fingers seemed to burn where his had touched them. “I—I shall be busy.”

“Mr. LaTournay! How delightful to see you!” Her mother arrived amid a rustle of petticoats and ribbons. Georgette wanted to groan.

“I hope you plan to call on us again soon,” she said, dimpling and nodding. “As you can see, Georgette is now quite well and able to receive callers.”

LaTournay's shrewd glance brushed Georgette. “Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Talbot. Ladies.” Touching his tricornered hat, he bowed and walked away.

Georgette exhaled slowly and closed her eyes.
Dear Lord, please let him never return!

“When next he calls, you will receive him.” Her father's voice held the ring of steel. He paced the sitting room, hands clasped behind his back. “Biddy tells me LaTournay attempted to call upon you last fall and you turned him away.” He jabbed a finger at Georgette. “Never again will you feign illness to avoid him. Attempt it, and I shall drag you downstairs in your shift to entertain the man!”

Georgette felt her facial muscles twitch as she fought back panic. “Papa, surely you would not force me to marry. I dislike Mr. LaTournay. He is evil.”

Her father swore, grasped her arm, and jerked her forward. Eyes narrowing, he hissed through clenched teeth. “LaTournay is a leading citizen in this province. His past is none of your concern. You will encourage his suit in every way possible. Do you understand?”

Georgette tightened her lips. Her father tightened his grip.

“Oww! Yes. I shall receive him.”

He let go. Georgette rubbed her arm as tears spilled down her cheeks. “But I shall never marry that man!”

Smack!
The back of his hand against her cheek jerked her head to one side. He pointed a finger in her face. “Never speak so to me again! You will do as I say, and that is final.”

Georgette fingered the welt left by his signet ring and felt her heart break.

That evening several men arrived to visit with her father. Her mother retired to her chambers, leaving Georgette to her own devices. Shouts and occasional bursts of laughter from the parlor drifted up the staircase.

More gambling. Georgette flopped upon the bed. If her heart sank any lower, it would punch a hole through the bottom of Manhattan. With a wry smile, she visualized the entire island upending and sinking into the river.

Her little dog, Caramel, strolled across the bedclothes. “You sleep too much,” she informed him, sliding his floppy ears between her finger and thumb. “But I adore you anyway. You mend my wounded spirits better than any physic.” For weeks after Caramel's mysterious arrival, she had questioned her acquaintances about pug dogs. Did anyone have a dog with puppies? Had anyone recently sold a pup? Her investigation turned up no clues.

“I wish you could tell me about the man who brought you, Caramel. Did you like him? Is he kind to fat puppies? Or was the cloaked rider a courier for my real benefactor?”

Caramel snorted and leaped off the bed in search of a toy.

Hearing the crackle of fireworks, Georgette hurried to the window to watch them flame across the sky. A woman's hearty laugh rose from the street below, along with the clop of hooves on cobblestones. The tavern at the corner did brisk business. Lively band music drifted on the chill night air, and the glow of bonfires dotted the city. A sudden breeze held the promise of spring, the sting of sea salt, and a whiff of gunpowder and smoke.

Georgette inhaled deeply. Excitement flooded her veins. She craved adventure, thrills—and romance. Anything to escape the future her father planned for her.

“Lord Jesus? Are You listening to me?” Her recent decision to devote her life to God's service had provided little respite from boredom, and instead of miraculously disappearing, her problems had multiplied.

Caramel brought her a leather ball. Georgette tossed it. She heard his paws scrabble on the floor, and a thump indicated when the pug slid into the wall. Small wonder his face was flat.

“I do not understand Your refusal to answer my prayers, God. Papa plans to marry me to a reprobate, and Mummy smiles and tells me not to worry.”

She accepted the slimy ball and threw it again. “Why would You put this desire for romance into my heart, then threaten me with a husband like Mr. LaTournay? I know I am to love You first, and I do. But I also wish for a loving husband and children. If You care at all, please send the right man to me soon. If only the admirer who sent my dog would make himself known.” A long sigh closed her petition.

Rising, she rang for a maid to help her prepare for bed.

No response came to her summons or her prayers. Annoyed, she shut Caramel into her bedchamber and padded down the back stairs to the kitchen. Biddy and Agnes bustled to prepare refreshments for her father's guests. “Where is Cook?” Georgette asked as Biddy passed her, carrying a loaded tray.