Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) (37 page)

Season gasped, and everyone began to mumble.

"I knew it! I knew you were a coward, Lucas. Your father would not be proud of you today," Gilbert said, a great deal of satisfaction in his voice.

Robert stepped forward and took Lucas' arm. "Perhaps it would be best if you and Season left," he said grimly.

"No, no," Rebecca cried, running forward and standing beside her brother. "Lucas, don't allow it to end like this."

Lucas looked down into his sister's face. "It's best if I leave now, Rebecca. Forgive me for spoiling your party." He took Season's hand and bowed curtly to Gilbert Bartlett. "My wife and I wish you well, sir."

Season was astonished as Lucas led her to the hallway and asked the butler for their wraps.

"Lucas, how can you allow Mr. Bartlett's insult to go unanswered?" she asked, as he placed her cape about her shoulders. "He has shamed you among your friends."

"What would you have me do, Season—kill him for expressing his views?"

"There is more to it than that, Lucas, and you know it. He insulted you."

"It isn't for you to question me, Season," Lucas replied, taking her arm and leading her outside.

As they waited for the horses to be hitched to the sleigh, Rebecca came out of the house and threw her arms about Lucas. "Please talk to Lucas, Season, and make him stay," she pleaded.

"No, Rebecca. Lucas is my husband and I will abide with what he decides."

"I will never forgive Robert for asking you to leave, Lucas," Rebecca declared.

Lucas placed a quick kiss on his sister's cheek and then lifted Season into the sleigh. "Don't be hard on Robert, Rebecca. He has his reasons for doing what he did."

As the horses started forward, Season stared at Rebecca's forlorn figure standing on the steps. "You hurt her, Lucas. You should never have taken Mr. Bartlett's insult."

"It isn't my practice to go around fighting duels with old men, and since the question of my politics never came up until he knew I was not going to marry his daughter, I question his motives now."

Season felt her stomach tie into knots. Surely Lucas wasn't a coward!

The ride home was a silent one. Whenever Season glanced at Lucas, he seemed to be brooding, and she felt miserable.

After Lucas and Season left, Robert asked Mr. Bartlett and his daughter to accompany him into his study. When he had closed the door he turned to the older man. "I brought you here to ask you both to leave my house. I was not at all happy when you forced me to ask Rebecca's brother and his wife to depart."

Gilbert Bartlett shook his head. "You of all people should be enraged by Lucas Carrington's behavior. The two of you grew up together. You have fought bravely for our cause, and you state your politics honestly and openly while Lucas licks the boots of the English."

"Lucas married that English trollop," Mariana stated angrily. "How can you allow her into your house?"

Robert's eyes blazed. "Do not speak against Lucas or Season in this house, Mariana. I would suggest that you are speaking out of jealousy rather than patriotism."

"You dare say this to me, Robert!"

He turned back to Mr. Bartlett. "I would suggest you leave now. I will make your excuses to the rest of our guests."

Gilbert Bartlett turned red in the face. "I don't see how you can defend Lucas; he acted the coward today."

Robert laughed a humorless laugh. "Lucas isn't a coward, Gilbert. Had he accepted your challenge tonight, you wouldn't have had a chance against him.

He saved your life at the price of his own pride. I would say that took a great deal of courage, wouldn't you? Now get your things and leave."

When they reached Rosemont, Lucas lifted Season out of the sleigh, and she followed him into the house.

She removed her cloak and started up the stairs. Then she realized that Lucas was just behind her. When they entered the bedroom, she dropped her cape onto a chair and removed her bonnet.

"You think I should have fought that man just to prove my bravery, don't you, Season? I believe it sometimes takes a much braver man to walk away from a fight."

Season turned to Lucas, her eyes blazing. "You allowed Mr. Bartlett to make a fool of you. I find no honor in that, Lucas."

"You think I am a coward?"

"What I believe is not the important issue here, Lucas. What do you think?"

"I believe a wife should have more faith in her husband. She should stand beside him no matter what."

"I will stand beside you, Lucas," she said, tossing her head defiantly. "But courage is the one thing that I admire most in the world."

He grabbed her and brought her up against his body. "You are comparing me to your precious sea captain again. I have had enough of being compared to The Raven and found wanting."

"Lucas I didn't—"

"Spare me your excuses," he ground out, raising his hand in dismissal and stalking out of the room.

Season walked over to the window and watched the snowdrift down. She had the strangest feeling she had failed Lucas in some way, but how could she have condoned his behavior. He had acted the coward, and she felt shame for him.

When Season went downstairs the next morning she was still tired. She hadn't slept well, and she wanted to apologize to Lucas for behaving so badly the day before. She had lain awake long into the night, mulling over the whole unpleasant incident in her mind. She now realized that Lucas had acted with great restraint in dealing with Mr. Bartlett, and she wanted to tell him how she felt.

When Season entered the dining room, she discovered that Lucas wasn't there, but a note was propped against her plate. Picking it up, she began to read:

Season, I had to leave. Urgent business in New York needed my immediate attention. Try not to think too badly of me. I am sorry about our misunderstanding yesterday. When I return we will have a long talk. I may be away for several months, so if you should need anything talk to Robert.

I remain your husband,

Lucas.

Season sank down in her chair and stared at the note. What did Lucas mean he could be gone for several months? Why hadn't he told her goodbye? She pushed her breakfast plate aside and stood up, feeling strangely empty inside. How could she go on for months not knowing when Lucas was coming home. What was she supposed to do with herself?

She walked out onto the veranda and watched the heavy snowdrift down. Lucas wouldn't be home for Christmas. She would be alone, just as she had been as a child growing up at Chatsworth.

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Why, Lucas, why did you leave me without saying goodbye?" she cried, leaning her head against the veranda for support.

She watched as several men began to shovel snow from the driveway and clear a path to the stables.

Molly came out on the veranda and placed a warm wrap about her mistress. "You are going to catch your death if you don't come into the house, my lady."

Season sighed. Who would know if she just wasted away and died? She thought about The Raven. Perhaps he would, but she wasn't even sure about that.

27

The days seemed endless to Season. She spent Christmas with Rebecca and Robert, but she saw the New Year in alone without celebration or fanfare. Each day she waited for the post, hoping for some word from Lucas, but so far, she had received none.

January was a bitterly cold month, and Season was forced to stay indoors. She passed the time by alphabetizing the library. Each book was put in order, and she made an index catalogue, listing each book by its title. Some of the books were in bad repair, so she sent them off to Philadelphia to be rebound.

February came and went, and Season still hadn't heard from her husband. She couldn't get Lucas out of her mind. She remembered their parting and the hurtful words she had said to him. She wondered if he was still angry with her.

Season received a letter from her father. All was well at Chatsworth, but he missed her. He wrote that he would be returning to London in the spring, and Season knew he would again be taking up his political life. She doubted he would ever be content to stay at Chatsworth for an indefinite period of time.

Sometimes, when Season lay in her bed alone, she remembered the night she had met Lucas in New York. He had been surrounded by a swarm of beautiful ladies. She often wondered if he had now found some woman to warm his bed. Then she became jealous and cried herself to sleep. Season knew she couldn't blame Lucas if he turned to another woman; she hadn't been the ideal wife. He probably thought she had betrayed him with The Raven, and after all, she had, hadn't she?

She tried not to think of the captain of the
Andromeda
, but he sometimes crept into her mind uninvited. Season knew it was wrong to let her thoughts dwell on a man other than her husband, but she had little control over her fickle heart. Indeed, she had begun to wonder if she would ever have control over her own life. Was it her lot to be always alone?

As Season watched the heavy snowflakes fall, she yearned for spring. She wanted to ride over the valley and feel the warm sun on her face, and she wished with all her heart that Lucas would return so she could apologize to him for the cruel things she had said.

The captain of the
Andromeda
stood on deck and watched the billowing sails catch the wind as he changed course. He had taken three English merchants and two frigates as prize. The crew had been celebrating the night before, for each man knew he had made his fortune. When the war was over every seaman aboard would have the wealth that other men only dreamed about.

Deep in thought, The Raven didn't hear Briggs come up behind him until he spoke.

"We have a fair wind, Captain. I sight land dead ahead. Do we go ashore at Tripoli, sir?"

"Aye, Briggs."

"You can't be too sure what our reception will be. Everyone there will know that you disposed of De Fores. He had friends among the scum there."

"We have little choice, Briggs. We need to put in for repairs and supplies. I don't anticipate trouble. That lot always shies away from a bold show of strength."

The next morning the captain of the
Andromeda
stepped ashore at Tripoli and walked slowly down the streets as if he were out for an afternoon stroll. When he entered the foul-smelling tavern, he was flanked by twelve of his crewmembers. Suddenly the din ceased and hostile eyes watched his progress. He looked neither left nor right, but kept his hand lightly resting on his sword hilt.

The Raven nodded his head at several of the men, but he didn't stop to talk. Finally he stood, legs spread apart in his usual arrogant stance, and scanned the room as if daring one of the pirate captains to challenge him. Angry murmurs arose, and his men came up beside him to show their support for their captain.

"If they was of a mind, sir, there could be a nasty fight," Briggs said, his eyes alert.

"Fear not, Briggs; there is no fight in this motley lot. We could easily handle anything they might throw our way, and they know it." Even as The Raven spoke he began to move among the tables. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a group of men come through the door and move to his side. He smiled, knowing Maude had sent her crew to reinforce his men.

At one point a mountain of a sailor stepped angrily in front of The Raven, but when he saw the masked captain fingering the hilt of his sword he moved aside.

Maude sat with her feet propped up on a table, watching his progress. The Raven smiled and made his way toward her.

When he reached her table, he pulled up a chair and rested a booted foot on it. "I am glad to see you are well, Maude. Thank you for the support."

She leaned forward and motioned for him to be seated. "It's good to see you, Raven. I thought I might be called on to help you as you crossed the room. You always were a bold devil."

Laughter issued from behind the mask. "It would seem this lot has no stomach for a fight. They don't know how to band together—they are too busy trying to cut each other's throats."

"I would have died defending you had the need arose, Raven," Maude said with glowing eyes.

A gloved hand reached out and touched her face. "You are much too fine a woman to be wasted on this beggar's lot, Maude," he told her.

"If only you felt…" Maude's voice trailed off. "I heard that you rescued the Lady Chatsworth from De Fores."

"You heard right."

"Where is she now? Did you bring her with you or take her back to England?"

"As it happens, Maude, she is married and lives with her husband in Virginia."

Maude tried to see past the black leather mask. She knew The Raven had been bewitched by the lady. "I'm sorry, Raven."

"Don't be sorry for me, Maude. Let's drink and be merry," The Raven said, as he lifted a mug from a passing serving maid's tray."

Maude picked up her mug of ale and held it out to him. "What do we drink to, Raven?"

The Raven laughed deeply. "I drink to a fair wind and a fair friend. May the first always blow strong, and the second live long."

Maude took a drink of her ale. "Later, will you come to my house? On your last visit, when I kept the lady for you, I waited for you but you never came."

The serving wench passed the table and gave The Raven a saucy wink, but he nodded a negative response. He lifted his mug and took a drink before he answered. "I won't be coming this time either, Maude. We have to make some hasty repairs and then head out to sea again."

Maude sighed and, trying to act indifferent, shrugged her shoulders. "I would venture to guess that the lady hurt you badly, Raven."

"Perhaps we hurt each other, Maude."

"Will you see her again?"

"Yes."

Maude stood up and smiled at him. "Don't forget you always have Maude to help you over the rough spots, Raven. Should you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Goodbye, Maude," he said in his raspy voice. "Take care of yourself."

Maude tipped her hat and smiled before turning away. She had a strange empty feeling, as if she would never see The Raven again. She left the tavern, knowing her crew would look after The Raven's safety while he was in port.

As Maude made her way to her house the sky didn't seem as blue as it had before. She shrugged her shoulders. Men were plentiful. She would try to put The Raven out of her heart. She knew he had never thought of her as other than a friend. The Lady Season Chatsworth came to her mind and she wondered how the lady could marry another man when she had won The Raven's heart. Maude knew she would give all she owned to have The Raven feel deeply about her.

When the
Andromeda
was under sail once more, her captain stood on deck and watched his first mate turn the wheel into the wind.

"Where do we head, Captain?" Briggs wanted to know.

"Set a course for the United States. I have just received word that the British have waged an all-out campaign in the South. They think to weaken our forces by dividing our troops; let us hope they will not succeed."

"All hell's going to break loose, sir."

"Yes. Our army in the South has been joined and reinforced by French troops, and they now pose a serious threat to Charleston. France and Spain have formed an alliance and threaten to depose the British supremacy at sea."

"The war cannot last much longer, sir. We are getting stronger, but I do not know that we can defeat the British on land," Briggs stated.

"If the men in the Congress would only stop quarreling among themselves and give their wholehearted support to General Washington, the war would have been won long ago."

"Do we join the French and Spanish fleets, Captain?"

"No, I have received word that General Washington wishes to see me. I must find him."

As spring came to Virginia Season felt her heart become lighter. She often rode over the plantation, watching the slaves till the land and plant the seeds. Everything seemed to be reborn. Foals frolicked about in the meadows, and calves trailed after their mothers. Season couldn't help but think she would be a mother now if she hadn't lost her baby.

Each day she hoped for some word from Lucas, but nothing came. For all she knew he might be dead.

She had tried to keep busy by rearranging the furnishings, and by now she had taken over the tasks of the lady of the manor. The servants had readily accepted her authority and the house was running smoothly, but Season rarely saw her neighbors, and was never invited to their houses. She knew they resented her because she was British and because of Lucas' stand on the war.

She had heard rumors that the war had come to the South, but so far she had seen no signs of fighting.

Season refused to let herself be overcome with melancholy, although each night when she climbed into her big empty bed she ached for her husband's return. She realized more and more that they were little more than strangers. They had not been together long enough to really know one another.

Season was determined that she would care for Lucas' home and be his wife in the eyes of the world. She knew when he did return home, she and Lucas would have to come to some kind of understanding. She was beginning to resent the fact that he seemed to have cast her aside as if she didn't exist. She doubted that Lucas had even given her a thought since he had left Rosemont.