Alex recovered himself and looked with longing at the sea. He considered jumping into the water to cool off.
“And who do you plan to tell about this?” he asked at last, no longer looking at her. He was too aware of the privacy of where they were to trust himself too far.
“The people of Warbrooke are afraid of Pitman because he represents the king—not to mention the English navy. But you, they aren’t afraid of you. If they knew what Nate heard this morning, they’d tar and feather you and then hang you. You wouldn’t be allowed to live. They want someone to blame for what happened to Josiah.”
“So what do you plan to do with your information?”
“It would kill your father if he knew.” She looked down at the rocky beach. Not far from her was a basket half-full of clams which she’d obviously been digging before he came.
“Perhaps I can make your decision easier for you.” He tried to keep his easy stance, tried not to let her see the energy and desire that was running through his body at the moment. “If you let other people know, even so much as your sister, your family will suffer. Now you have a roof over your head and food to eat.” He studied his fingernails. “And all those brats of yours are alive.” He looked back at her.
Something inside him tightened when he saw that she believed his threats. Was there no one who had known him all his life who’d stand up and say, “Alexander Montgomery wouldn’t do such a thing”?
“You…you wouldn’t.”
He merely looked at her, not bothering to comment.
“You make Pitman look like one of the Lord’s angels. At least some of what he is doing is for his country. For you, it’s just greed.” She turned on her heel as if to leave, then on impulse spun and slapped Alex across the face. A cloud of powder flew up from his full wig.
Alex had seen the slap coming but he didn’t stop her. Anyone who’d heard all she had that morning had a right to slap the cause of her pain. He dug his hands into the padding on his thighs. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
“I pity you,” she whispered. “I pity us.” She turned, her slim little body straight, and walked up the bank to the forest.
Chapter Four
BEN Sampson’s going to lose everything he owns. You mark my words,” Eleanor was saying. She and Jessica were in the Taggert kitchen, Jess finishing a meal, Eleanor cleaning.
“Possibly,” Jessica said mildly. “But then again he may make a profit.” Last night she’d docked her little ship next to Ben’s big one that had just returned from a voyage to Jamaica. While she’d been welcoming Ben home, one of his crew dropped a crate. The false bottom had been full of contraband tea. “All he has to do is store it twenty-four hours, then he can sneak it down to Boston.”
“If you saw the crate break, how many others did, too?”
“No one.” She gripped her wooden mug in her hand. “Not even your precious Alexander saw it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? All I said was that he certainly doesn’t eat much for a fat man and that he’s extremely polite and considerate. He never causes me nor anyone else the least bit of extra work,” Eleanor said as she chopped the head off a big haddock.
“You don’t know anything about him,” Jess said, thinking of what Nate had overheard. If Ben were caught and his property confiscated, Alexander would profit. “I just wish Adam or Kit would come home. They’d kick Pitman out of the house.”
“Their brother-in-law? A man appointed by the king? Be realistic, Jessica. Are you going to sit there and dawdle all night? I have to get back to the Montgomerys’ and you need to take these fish to Mrs. Wentworth.”
Jess glanced at the basket of cleaned fish. “Lazy bunch of women,” she sneered. “Mistress Abigail is afraid the men won’t like the smell of fish on her pure white hands.”
Eleanor slammed the basket on the table. “It wouldn’t hurt you to think a little more about how you smell. Now, go on, take this and don’t start a fight with Abigail.”
Jessica started to defend herself, but Eleanor didn’t bother to listen before leaving the little house. Reluctantly, Jess took the basket of fish and started toward the Wentworths’ big house.
She’d delivered the fish to Mrs. Wentworth and thought she was going to escape without having to see Abigail, but her luck ran out just as she opened the back door and stepped onto the porch.
“Jessica!” Abigail said. “How good to see you.”
Jess knew Abigail was lying through her teeth. “Good evening. Fine clear night it’s going to be, isn’t it?”
Abby leaned forward in conspiracy. “Did you hear about Mr. Sampson? He brought in tea today and he didn’t go through England. Do you think Mr. Pitman will find out?”
Jessica couldn’t speak she was so astonished. If Abigail had heard of the tea, then of course Pitman had. “I have to warn Ben,” was all Jess was able to say at last. She started toward the porch stairs with Abby, who had no intention of missing out on the excitement, close on her heels, when they were nearly run down by a man dressed in black riding a big black horse.
Both women came to a halt, Jess with her arm across Abby’s chest in a protective gesture.
“Jess,” Abby said breathlessly, “was that man wearing a mask?”