Rebel Dreams Read Online Free Page B

names and addresses when she received her uncle’s summons.
    She glanced at the long-case clock on the wall. Four o’clock!
Good heavens, Frances had taken longer than usual to win her father over, or
had maliciously delayed the message until there was scarce time for her cousin
to get ready. Whichever, Evelyn had to be satisfied with the hastily scribbled
notes in her hand.
    Calling for Jacob and the hired man, Benjamin, to close up
for her, Evelyn tucked the list into her pocket and hurried out into the
street. Her hair was dirty and disheveled, and she needed a bath. Heating the
water and hauling the buckets would take another half-hour. Her hair would have
no chance of drying. Perhaps she ought to just show up in breeches and smock to
teach her uncle the results of ill manners.
    Already tired, irascible, and worried, Evelyn was in no
humor to be treated as a dependent relative when she finally arrived at the
Uptons’. The maid abandoned her in the hallway, leaving her to discard her
mantilla on the hall tree and enter the drawing room unannounced.
    In deference to the occasion she had donned a lilac silk
that billowed extravagantly over her petticoats but did not require the use of
the French panniers. Her wrists and throat were unadorned except for the lace
frills on her sleeves and décolletage. She wore her still-damp tresses in a
loose coil covered with a bit of lace and a lilac ribbon, and not in the
English fashion of piling her hair upon cushions and covering it with powder
and plumes.
    If Uncle George complained of her plainness, she would tell
him in no uncertain terms that she would wear breeches the next time he
summoned her so late in the day.
    She entered the drawing room to find Frances clinging to
Hampton’s arm and gazing up into his sardonic face with a look of rapture.
Foolish creature! Couldn’t she see the mockery in the man’s damnable eyes? He
thought them all primitive amusements compared to his usual sophisticated
company. Even Frances’ elegant imported gown and fashionably coiffed hair would
not impress an arrogant aristocrat like Alexander Hampton.
    His gaze turned to her, and Evelyn felt it rake over her
modest silk and hair. It must be like comparing a caterpillar to a butterfly,
she surmised. He merely acknowledged her presence with a nod and returned to
her cousin’s conversation.
    Obviously he had dressed down for the dubious honor of
dining with colonials. He wore the same navy silk frock coat he had worn
yesterday. His lace was newly cleaned and starched, but no more elaborate than
for a business call. He had not even condescended to powder his hair but wore
it tied in a simple black ribbon. Uncle George must be choking at such impertinence.
    Evelyn assessed the remainder of the company. At such short
notice the guest list was small. There were the neighbors, the Stones, and her
uncle’s best friend, Thomas Henderson. Uncle George had been throwing her into
the lawyer’s company for several years now, but the feeling of antipathy
between them was mutual, thank goodness.
    She smiled at her aunt as she approached and submitted to
that lady’s questioning on the state of her mother’s health. Anything was
better than confronting either Hampton or Henderson.
    ***
    Bored by the chatter of the peacock at his side, Alex
allowed his thoughts to drift. The gracious smile Miss Wellington bestowed upon
her aunt revealed her affection for the older woman. What would it take for a
man to elicit such a response?
    From the glare with which she had gifted him, he was not
likely to find out. It was a good thing they were agreed on the priorities of
this situation. Now that he’d found a buxom tavern maid to ease his needs, he
could deal sensibly with Miss E. A. Wellington. He’d acquire the list from her,
conduct a quiet investigation, hand his evidence to the Admiralty Court, and
get the hell out before the straitlaced witch scratched his eyes out for
existing.
    Alex strained to keep a