Laurel McKee Page 9

  “Nay, I moved to lodgings in Castleton Street. My family’s house is far too gloomy for me, I fear. Good night, Eliza.”

  “Good morning, Will.”

  He hurried to the window, unlocking the casement and lowering himself down to grasp the thick growth of ivy clinging there.

  “I grow too old for this,” he muttered as his well-exercised muscles gave a twinge. Too old, indeed, especially after a night of passion. But it was thrilling, too, he had to admit. The subterfuge of being Eliza’s lover at last.

  Thrilling—and dangerous.

  Chapter Eight

  And I call this meeting to order,” Mr. Boyle announced, banging on the table with his gavel.

  Eliza took her place at the table, her notebook open before her as she studied the men gathered around. Boyle, O’Malley, Jameson, and a hard-faced man named Duson from the islands. But not her old friend from home at Kildare, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who was still deep in hiding.

  And they should all be in hiding really, she thought wryly, twirling her pencil nervously between her fingers. With watchful military men like Will back in Dublin, they had to be doubly careful.

  She frowned, tapping the pencil against the table. She should be the one most careful. It had been three weeks now since she and Will became lovers, three days since she last saw him at a card party. Then he vanished from Dublin. They said his regiment was sent on patrol to Queen’s County, so she agreed to attend this hidden meeting.

  Where was he? Was he only biding his time until he caught her out?

  “Lady Mount Clare has generously agreed to act as secretary, in Mr. O’Connor’s absence,” Boyle said, dragging her out of her whirlwind thoughts. “We will keep this meeting as short as possible.”

  “Aye, the longer we stay, the greater the chance of a raid,” Jameson, the delegate from Munster, said harshly.

  Eliza glanced around the windowless room, a cellar far beneath a bookshop. All seemed quiet outside, but the very air in the stuffy little chamber seemed to shimmer with tension. The usual civility of an executive committee meeting, as opposed to the rowdier general meetings, seemed strained.

  “Then perhaps you will give us the news from Munster, Mr. Jameson,” Boyle said, nodding to Eliza.

  She jotted down the reports as each man spoke, using the code she would translate into dispatches to send around the country. If she was caught with the notes now, they would merely look like a lady’s rambling diary of gowns and tea parties. In reality, they were words of arms, troops, hiding places, strategy.

  The island delegate finished up the reports with tales of caves that could be used to hide guns from France—if they ever showed up as promised. So much depended on that, and Eliza didn’t like that at all. Surely the uprising should depend on the Irish alone now.

  She studied each man’s face, their expressions written with grim determination in the faint lamplight. What was writ on her own face when Will looked at her? What did he read there with his too-perceptive gaze?

  She took a deep breath, setting thoughts of Will aside for the moment. “Gentlemen,” she said. “It sounds as if the work in the counties is progressing much as planned. Now it is Dublin’s turn.”

  Boyle frowned, leaning forward in his chair. “In what way, Lady Mount Clare?”

  “Tomorrow night is the queen’s birthday ball at the Castle,” Eliza said. “All members of the Irish Parliament, all the nobility, will be there.”

  “Are you suggesting we mount an attack on the Castle?” Jameson said. “On a day’s notice?”

  Eliza laughed. “I would hardly say we are ready for that. No, our cause can be served in a much… quieter fashion, I think.”

  A ripple of interest went around the table. “What do you suggest, Lady Mount Clare?” O’Malley asked.

  “I suggest,” Eliza answered, “that people such as Lord Lieutenant Camden will be much preoccupied with the festivities. His offices will be empty, and guards are often easily bypassed in a party atmosphere. Especially by tipsy ladies…”

  Boyle laughed. “You are bold, my lady.”

  “Taking a little peek at papers left carelessly lying about is not as bold as going into pitched battle,” Eliza said, starting to gather up her own papers—and trying not to think of battles that would surely involve Will. “But we all do what we can. I suggest you all watch for a new dispatch soon, gentlemen.”

  “Troop numbers?” O’Malley asked. “Regimental movements into the counties?”

  “If we’re fortunate,” Eliza answered. She thought of Will and the Thirteenth marching on St. Stephen’s Green. But this was what she had set out to do; she would finish it. “Now, if there is no more business, I must go before I am missed. Good night, gentlemen. And Erin go bragh.”

  Will stared down at Eliza as she slept in his arms, her naked body as pale and perfect as marble in the darkness. Their lovemaking that night had a strange edge to it, almost frantic as she grabbed him in her arms as soon as he climbed in her window. He had been gone for a few days on patrol and just returned, not sure of his reception in her house. Not that he minded her haste in the least—making love with Eliza made him feel intoxicated, drunk on her scent and feel, her kiss. But still, he wondered what came over her tonight.

  He leaned over, kissing her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder.

  “Will,” she murmured, her breath cool against him in the shadows of their bed. “It’s late; we shouldn’t—”

  “Shh.” He pressed his lips to that soft, sensitive little spot just below her ear, the one that always made her sigh and moan. And wriggle against him, as she did now. His body hardened as her skin slid against his, his pulse thrumming in his veins.

  “We have a little time,” he said. He pressed his open palm against her hip, sliding it up, up, over her slender waist and her ribs. At last he brushed the underside of her breast and balanced its weight on his hand, feeling her heart beat frantically.

  “I’m afraid a little time won’t be enough,” she said, her words fading to a moan as he stroked her nipple.

  She rolled over in his arms, arching up to kiss him. It was a frantic, wild kiss, full of need. A kiss that said all they could not in words. Their tongues touched, wet and hot.

  Will pressed her down into the rumpled sheets, covering her with his body. She smelled of roses still, of cold night air, the salt of sweat and sex. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, skin to skin. He felt her hands on his shoulders, the nails digging into his back as if she would hold him her prisoner, would never let him go.

  And he was more than willing to be chained to her. But he was determined to hold on to her in turn, to make her his own forever.

  His kissed her jaw, her neck, sliding his lips along the soft inside of her arm. He reveled in the moaning sigh she made as his teeth grazed her breast. Her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him to her. He was happy to oblige. Lightly, he bit down on her erect, rosy nipple, flicking it with his tongue.

  “Will!” she cried. “You make me insane.”

  “That’s two of us, then.” He stared up at her, their eyes meeting for one long moment. “Let’s never be sane again.”

  She laughed hoarsely, tugging at his hair until he slid back up her body. “At least until the morning,” she whispered against his lips.

  Until the morning. At the taste of her, he forgot everything that waited outside this room. Ireland, England, duty, family—all gone. There was only Eliza and Will, the way he felt when he held her in his arms.

  He clasped her hands in his, entwining their fingers as he held her to the bed and pressed deep into her body, into the warmth and heat of her. He threw his head back, his jaw clenched with the rush of raw, primal pleasure. She tightened her legs around his hips, drawing him even deeper until he couldn’t tell where his body ended and hers began. They were like two halves of the same whole, as they always had been.

  Would they be ripped apart in the morning? Even that didn’t matter now
, not with her wrapped around him, the sound of her voice in his ear.

  “Will, Will,” she sobbed as he drew back and plunged forward again, deeper, faster. The pressure built and built until he exploded with it.

  “Eliza!” he shouted, feeling her body go taut beneath his with her own release. “Eliza.”

  He collapsed to the bed beside her, quivering as he pressed his face into her hair. She whispered soft endearments, holding on to his shoulders as if she, too, feared to fall. And morning was rushing upon them much too quickly.

  Chapter Nine

  Will you wear the diamonds, my lady?”

  “Hmm?” Eliza said, distracted. Diamonds were the furthest thing from her mind. She was far too busy thinking of Will. Would he be there tonight at the Castle? Would he discover what she was planning?

  She did a fine enough job concealing her intentions last night. But those eyes of his sometimes seemed as if they could see into her very soul.

  She pushed away those worries. “I’m sorry, Mary,” she said, turning to her maid. “I fear I was woolgathering. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you’ll wear the diamonds, my lady. They’ll look so well with your new gown.”

  Eliza held up her arm, examining the satin sleeve. “White, of course. Why must it always be white for the queen’s birthday? I’m too old to be a bride or a debutante.”

  “White looks well on you, my lady,” Mary said soothingly, putting the final touches on Eliza’s coiffure, the upswept dark curls fastened with pearl combs.

  “It makes me look like a silly miss in her first Season. But, yes, the diamonds will do very well.”

  As Mary fastened the heavy necklace and earrings, Eliza reached for her pot of rice powder, dusting it over those freckles. Another queen’s birthday ball at the Castle. And no plans for the uprising yet, despite the fact that Kilmainham Gaol was filling up with United Irish from the north, and delegates from the counties arrived daily with reports. Surely they were doomed to always live in this limbo, she thought with a sigh. Maybe what she found tonight could change all that.

  “How is your family, Mary?” she asked.

  “Well enough, my lady,” Mary said. “My mum thanks you for the ham you sent for Boxing Day, and my brother Billy took us out for a sail on his fishing boat. It was ever so cold in the bay, but the fresh air did my mum some good, as did seeing Billy. He’s been away so much of late.”

  As so many young men were. “The British frigates gave you no trouble on your pleasure cruise, then?”

  Mary shook her head. “Mum always acts so stern and respectable; I’m sure they would have let us go at once if they dared board us and listen to her lectures! I daresay it’s not so easy for Billy in his work now, my lady, having to get up before dawn and try to get the fish and avoid the patrols, too. They seem to stop everyone not in regimentals now.”

  “I can imagine,” Eliza murmured, remembering what she had learned at last night’s secret meeting. No one was safe any longer.

  “Speaking of regimentals, my lady…,” Mary said, gathering up the feather fan and reticule and tucking a handkerchief in its beaded depths. “I saw Major Denton marching in St. Stephen’s Green this morning.”

  Eliza felt her cheeks turn foolishly warm at the mention of his name. Anyone would think she was a silly miss in her first Season! “Indeed?” she said, hoping she sounded quite indifferent. She covered her blush by reaching for her scent bottle and dabbing a drop of rose perfume at the base of her throat.

  Just at that spot he liked to kiss, to taste with his tongue…

  “Oh yes, my lady. He drew quite a crowd of gawking females. Such a lot of silliness over a handsome face and a red coat! As if they had never seen one before.”

  “Do you not care for handsome faces and red coats, Mary?”

  “The coat I can do without, my lady. But if the face looked like the major’s…”

  Eliza laughed despite herself. “I would not know. Major Denton has not shown himself at a gathering for some days.” He had only shown himself in her bedroom, as soon as he returned to Dublin.

  “I hear tell the Thirteenth was sent out on patrol, my lady. Quiet like.”

  “Patrol?” Eliza asked, pretending no knowledge at all.

  “There was some rumor of unrest at Prosperous Town, my lady,” Mary said. “They say there was some thought of reinforcing the barracks there, but it came to nothing. A few pikes found and a hay rick burned, that was all. So, back the Thirteenth came. But I don’t think they will be sent north after all. We’re going to need them here.”

  Prosperous Town—that was not so far from Killinan. “I’m sure the young ladies are glad of that. There will be no lack of dancing partners tonight.”

  “Shall you dance, too, my lady?”

  Eliza laughed. “You and Anna, always trying to get me to dance! I suppose I might, depending on who asks me. If anyone does ask me.”

  “I don’t think you need worry about that, my lady. You look grand.”

  Eliza stood up from her dressing table to face the full-length mirror. Her white gown was trimmed with black velvet and pearl beadwork. Black plumes, fastened by her pearl combs, nodded in her hair.

  “I would not say grand,” she said. “But certainly presentable, entirely thanks to you, Mary.”

  The maid handed her the fan and reticule along with a pair of gloves. As Eliza drew the thin kid over her hands, she noticed the gold glint of her wedding ring. It had been over a year since Mount Clare died. Why did she still wear it? Sentiment? A sort of armor? Certainly not in memory of some undying flame of love.

  She had the sudden flashing image of Will in her bed, their bodies entwined as they rolled through the sheets, all that heat and need in the darkness. And she slid the ring off her finger, handing it to Mary before pulling on her gloves.

  “Put that in my jewel case, please, Mary,” she said. “We probably won’t be gone late; Castle events are rarely raucous, dance-until-dawn affairs.”

  “No, my lady,” Mary said, staring down at the ring with wide eyes.

  Eliza hurried down to the foyer, where Anna already waited. She, too, wore white satin, her gown trimmed not with black but with pale pink and glistening silver embroidery. Pink plumes nodded in her blond curls, secured with their mother’s diamond tiara.

  “Mama entrusted you with that?” Eliza teased her sister as the footman assisted her with her heavy cloak. “You must have made a concerted effort to be very good indeed before you left Killinan!”

  “I can behave, when I so choose,” Anna said airily, touching the delicate floral loops of diamonds and small pearls. “And when there is a reward for it. Mama says it is only on loan for the birthday, though, then back it goes.”

  “It suits you very well. Much better than it did me.”

  “Is that why you have not worn it since your wedding?”

  “Exactly so. Plus it is so monstrously heavy. I wager you will not be able to dance at all!”

  “Oh, I can always dance, even if I wore leaden boots.” Anna swept out the door and down to the carriage with Eliza close behind. Perhaps Anna would marry a duke after all—tiaras and sweeping parades became her so well.

  “And you will have no shortage of eager partners,” Eliza said, settling herself on the seat with all her heavy skirts and feathers. “Mary tells me the Thirteenth is back in Dublin.”

  “Indeed? That is good news for you, Eliza.”

  “For me?”

  “Oh yes. Now you can cease pacing about the house so restlessly and dance all you like with Major Denton.”

  Eliza stared out the window at the passing houses. It was a good thing indeed that Anna was going home soon. “I do not pace.”

  “Certainly not,” Anna said, obviously not at all convinced.

  “And I will not dance tonight, either. Staid Castle minuets are hardly worth the trouble.”

  Anna smiled smugly. “If you say so, sister.”

  “Major Denton. How very ple
asant to see you again,” Mrs. Hardwick, General Hardwick’s wife, said, holding out her hand to Will as he stepped under the columned portico of the Castle.

  The Hardwicks’ pretty blond daughter, Lydia, who had sat next to him at the theater, stood behind her mother. She smiled at him shyly from beneath her white plumes.

  Will bowed over Mrs. Hardwick’s hand. “And pleasant to see you as well, Mrs. Hardwick. Miss Hardwick. You are both looking splendid this evening.”

  “We were not sure you would return to Dublin in time for the festivities,” said Mrs. Hardwick. “My husband told me the Thirteenth was dispatched to keep the peace in some horrid little village.”

  Will thought of the town of Prosperous, so near to Moreton Manor and to Eliza’s family at Killinan. While Queen’s County just to the south was in a state of insurrection, Kildare County had been eerily quiet. The streets of Prosperous had been nearly deserted, suspicious eyes peering from behind shutters. Green streamers fluttering from flagposts had been torn down and trampled by the soldiers.

  “It is quite fearsome that the rebellion draws so close,” Lydia whispered. “I have the most frightful nightmares….”

  “I should not worry, Miss Hardwick,” Will said reassuringly. “We found the town, and all of Kildare, to be quite peaceful. And Dublin is well fortified.”

  Mrs. Hardwick gave him an approving smile. “And we have fine men such as Major Denton to protect us, do we not, Lydia dear?”

  Lydia smiled and blushed. “Indeed, Mama. I see we need not fear at all.”

  “Though perhaps the major, having been away, has not enjoyed a dance in many days?”

  Will could take a hint. “I have not, Mrs. Hardwick, sadly enough. Perhaps Miss Hardwick will honor me with the first dance, if she is not otherwise engaged?”

  “Thank you,” Lydia breathed. “I am not otherwise engaged.”

  “My dears!” General Hardwick boomed, emerging from a door hidden to the left in the dark gray stone wall. He was followed by two other men in brightly decorated regimentals. “Are you importuning the poor young man for dances already? He has scarcely arrived! I vow, Major Denton, facing our fair Dublin ladies is far more hazardous than any pack of rebels.”