Petals on the River

  “No regrets about leaving England, my sweet?” Gage inquired tenderly, laying a hand over the one she rested upon his sleeve.

  Her fiery head tilted forward as she tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Only that I miss my parents very, very much.”

  “Perhaps after I sell the ship we can visit them there,” he suggested. “Would you like that?”

  Shemaine nodded eagerly, and then fanned herself with a handkerchief, feeling rather faint. “It seems terribly stuffy in here, Gage, don’t you think?”

  Gage gently stroked a finger along the side of her face. “Your cheeks are flushed.”

  “You do that to me,” she murmured with a smile as her gaze delved into the warmth of his.

  “Would you like to go outside and get some fresh air?”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  It was only later, after blessings and good wishes had been bestowed upon the couple, that Annie again sought out Shemaine in the churchyard. Heretofore Annie had avoided talking in detail about the events that had led to her arrest, for she had deemed the memories far too painful to recall, but she seemed more relaxed about her past now.

  “This land an’ some o’ its, people have given me a new beginnin’, m’liedy. Here I be, married at last, an’ with some hope for the future.” Admiring her new gown, the petite woman smoothed her work-roughened hands over the sleeves. “I’d ne’er have been able to own anythin’ this fine in England, m’liedy. We hadn’t a farthin’ ta our name after me ma started ailin’. I begged a man what worked at the apothecary’s shop ta give me the herbs me ma needed ’cause she was really bad off sick. He said he’d do it if’n I’d let him have his way with me. He was so rough I started sobbin’ afore he finished with me. He got real angry an’ slapped me so’s I’d be quiet. Afterwards, he called me a li’l slut for sellin’ me virginity for a handful o’ herbs. Then he booted me out without so much as a sprig, sayin’ as how I didn’t deserve anythin’ ’cause I’d gone an’ disturbed him whilst he was havin’ his fun. I started poundin’ me fist on the door, pleadin’ with him ta give the herbs ta me, but he wouldn’t answer. Later, I found meself carryin’ his babe. I was nearin’ the time for it ta be born when I went back ta plead with him ’cause me ma had gotten so much worse. He laughed at me an’ said the brat was me own concern, not his. He made me so angry, I hit him over the head with a heavy vial an’ stole the herbs. By the time I got back ta me ma, she was already dead. I gave birth ta me son that very same night. I hid out for a time, not knowin’ where ta go, but the babe’s father seen me beggin’ on a street a short time later an’ had me arrested.”

  Shemaine hurriedly blinked against the tears that had welled up in her eyes and, slipping her arms around her friend, enfolded her in a long, soothing embrace. “Did you tell Colby what happened to you?”

  Annie nodded and sniffed. “I had ta, m’liedy. I couldn’t wed him without layin’ it all bare afore him. He said he loved me just the same an’ we’d make a new beginnin’ for each other. We’d start a family an’ grow ol’ together.”

  Shemaine smiled gently. “ ‘Twould seem you’ve been favored with a loving, caring husband, Annie.”

  Joining them, Colby slipped an arm around his bride’s shoulders. “Our guests are heading to the tavern, Annie. We’d better go on ahead so we’ll be there to greet them.”

  As they left, Shemaine glanced around for Gage, then smiled as she felt a presence stepping up close behind her and blue-clad arms slipping around her.

  “Are you looking for me, madam?” her husband whispered, bending near her ear.

  Her answer came in a blissful sigh. “Only if you’re the man of my dreams.”

  “Tell me, madam, what does the man of your dreams look like?”

  “Tall, black-haired, amber-brown eyes . . . far too handsome for me to resist.”

  “Do you want to resist him?”

  “Nay, never. I yearn for his touch even when I’m with others.”

  Gage swept his hands in a leisured caress of her arms. “Will my touch suffice, madam?”

  “Only until we can get back to our bed and I can hold the man of my dreams in my arms again.”

  “We can leave now, my love,” Gage suggested, intrigued by the idea. “There’s nothing I foresee happening here that would be as enticing as what you speak of.”

  “If we were to leave now, your father and Mrs. McGee would still be up,” Shemaine pointed out. “They’d wonder what brought us home so early and, no doubt, would want to talk. We’d face a delay either here or there. Besides, Annie will expect us to stay and share in her happiness.”

  Gage graciously yielded the decision to his wife. “As you wish, my lady. Shall we walk to the tavern or should I bring the chaise around?”

  “We can walk, I think,” Shemaine replied, and tossed a coquettish smile over her shoulder. “ ‘Tis not often I’m able to stroll along the boardwalk at a leisurely pace and watch all the women stare agog at you.”

  “That’s because I’m anxious to keep you a secret from all the men in the hamlet,” Gage countered. “They ogle you and make my temper soar.”

  “It needn’t, my love, because my eyes are only for you.”

  Gallantly Gage presented an arm and led her toward the tavern. They were intent upon each other and barely noticed Alma Pettycomb approaching until they were almost upon her and the man who walked along beside her. For once the matron seemed far more engrossed in her own affairs than in the affairs of others. She grumbled and twitched in irritation beside her stoic-faced husband, who seemed oblivious to her muttered ranting.

  “I told you, Sidney! I want to go to the docks to see that new ship that came into port!” Receiving no answer, she jerked testily upon his coat sleeve. “Did you hear me, Sidney?”

  “Who cannot?” he asked curtly.

  “Well?”

  “I want my supper, woman! And that’s final! I’m tired of you gallivanting all over creation, poking your long nose into everybody’s business. I’ve decided henceforth there’ll be some changes made in the way you conduct yourself, or you will answer to me. Colby Ferris is a friend of mine, and I was greatly shamed that you took it upon yourself to exaggerate a pettish argument he had with that toad, Samuel Myers. Because of you, I could not bring myself to attend his wedding until I’ve made some effort to put my own house in order. I’m a God-fearing man, madam, but I’ll tell you truly there’ll be some mayhem done if you don’t keep your mouth closed from now on. And if you think I’m fooling, then I just might decide to take a thin switch to your arse to show you that I’m serious.”

  Alma gasped in outrage. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Turning his head slightly, Sidney Pettycomb raised a brow sharply as he stared at her. “I’m a man of my word, madam. You’ll pay the consequences if I hear one more rumor about you viciously defaming another person.”

  Nearing the younger couple, Sidney politely tipped his hat as he gave a nod of greeting first to Gage and then to Shemaine. The younger couple were totally amazed by what they had just overheard and became even more hopeful when Sidney spoke to them. “Give my regards to Colby for me, will you, Gage? I’ve sent a gift, but my best wedding present is in the making.”

  Subduing the urge to grin, Gage inclined his head briefly, committing himself to carrying the man’s message and conveying his own interpretation of Sidney’s other present, which Gage could only guess would benefit them all.

  Musicians had been hired to lend a musical flair to the celebration, and a broad assortment of loyal patients, friends, and acquaintances came for the feasting. Gage was rather astonished that so many people were living in the area, but it was readily apparent by the vast collection of well-wishers that Colby Ferris was not without his supporters and a substantial number of friends. Ramsey and Calley Tate, toting their newborn in a padded basket, had arrived from the church to join in the festivities. Upon spying the Tates and the Thorntons, Colby beckoned the two couples to sit with
them, allowing Annie the nurturing comfort of being surrounded by close friends.

  The food was plentiful and delicious, but Shemaine found her appetite decreasing as the stagnant air in the tavern grew heavy with a mélange of odors: the foul stench of sweaty men, horse manure tracked in on the wooden floor, various aromas from the food laid out on the long tables, and the overpowering essence of toilet water with which an older matron had liberally doused herself. Whiffs of smoke from the hearth, where another suckling pig was roasting, made it difficult for Shemaine to breathe. Feeling nauseous, she dabbed a freshly scented handkerchief to her clammy cheeks, then pressed it beneath her nose. The delicate barrier sufficed for a few moments until her chair and her arm were haphazardly jostled by a backwoodsman, making her drop the filtering handkerchief in her lap. One whiff of the man as he leaned over her to apologize almost saw her undone, for he reeked of nearly everything she had been trying to avoid smelling. The man stepped away, and in something of a panic, Shemaine leaned forward to beg leave of her companions.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need some air,” she gasped out. Carefully averting her gaze from their plates, she rose to her feet, but when she turned stiltedly to Gage, he was already standing. She laid a trembling hand upon his chest and pleaded softly, “Stay and finish your meal. I won’t be long.”

  He took her hand in his. “Madam, I would hate for the newly arrived sailors and passengers to mistake you for one of the harlots who frequent this place.”

  Seeing the wisdom in his concern, Shemaine acquiesced and allowed him to draw her back to the boardwalk. Inhaling several deep breaths of the late afternoon air, she promptly obtained some relief and actually started feeling better as she strolled along beside her husband. As he wandered casually toward the end of town, she looked into the windows of the shops they passed, now and then drawing his attention to something she espied. She enjoyed their leisurely walk together and felt a great measure of pride to be on his arm.

  Passengers from the newly docked ship were already beginning to make their way from the wharf. A few of them seemed in a great hurry to reach the main part of the hamlet. A tall, dark-haired, well-garbed gentleman strode far ahead of them all. His long legs had served him well in that respect. Indeed, the silver-tipped cane he carried was obviously more of a swagger stick than an aid for walking. His strides were long and sure, and with his head held at a lofty angle, he glanced about, as if searching for something or someone. When he espied the Thorntons from a distance, he paused suddenly and cocked his head at a contemplative angle, staring intently toward Shemaine. Seeming somewhat confused, he resumed walking, but his pace was slower, a bit more hesitant.

  Gage came to the end of the boardwalk and turned, drawing Shemaine’s hand within the bend of his arm. “Are you feeling better, my sweet?”

  “Aye.”

  “Need more air?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Anything for you, love,” he replied, slanting a grin toward her.

  Gage caught the sound of running feet behind him and peered over his shoulder to see the richly garbed gentleman approaching them in haste. There was no mistaking it. The man’s eyes were riveted on Shemaine.

  A low growl issued from Gage’s throat at the man’s audacity. “What’s this? A recent arrival already taken with you?”

  Her husband’s muttered question drew Shemaine’s gaze back along the boardwalk, allowing the advancing swain to see her profile.

  “Shemaine! Shemaine! By heavens, it is you!”

  “Maurice?” Recognizing the voice, she turned in confusion, and suddenly her former betrothed was there, throwing aside his cane and sweeping her up in his embrace. Whirling her around in an ecstatic circle, he swung her completely off her feet.

  “Shemaine, we thought we’d never find you!” he cried, continuing his whirling dance. “ ‘Twas only by chance your mother spied a woman wearing your boots and bribed her to tell her where she had gotten them!”

  “Do you mind?” Gage barked. He had recognized the name and, upon espying the man’s handsome and aristocratic features, considered himself in serious jeopardy of losing his wife’s heart back to her former fiancé.

  “Maurice, put me down! For heaven’s sakes, put me down now!” Shemaine gasped, clasping the handkerchief over her mouth as her world reeled crazily awry.

  The Marquess complied and stood in some befuddlement as Shemaine stumbled away to the edge of the boardwalk. Taking in large gulps of air, she struggled valiantly to subdue her rising gorge, but the town still seemed to tilt at a sharp slant around her. Her stomach heaved in rebellion, and feebly she extended a hand behind her, bringing Gage swiftly to her side.

  Maurice watched in helpless, resentful confusion as the stranger slipped an arm around the narrow waist that he himself had once possessively embraced and laid a hand on the same smooth brow he had lovingly kissed. The casual handling of his betrothed aroused his ire to no small degree, and he almost stepped forward to protest, but the plight of his fiancée finally dawned on him as she tried to subdue a gag behind a lace handkerchief.

  Spurred to action, Maurice raced back to the horse trough, wet his handkerchief and returned to offer it to her. Meekly Shemaine nodded her gratitude and wiped her face as she leaned against Gage. Brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face, he laid an arm around her waist as she rested her head against the solid bulwark of his chest.

  The intimacy of Gage’s embrace invited a dark-eyed glower from her former beau, but that was not all, by any means.

  “What the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” another voice demanded from the thoroughfare, snatching the very words from Maurice’s mouth.

  “Papa?” Shemaine lifted her head and glanced around in search of the beloved face. She could not have mistaken the voice, and when her eyes lit on the short, wiry, nattily garbed man standing with arms akimbo and legs splayed in the middle of the road, she could not mistake her own sire. “Papa! Oh, Papa!”

  Nearly dancing along the edge of the boardwalk, Shemaine eagerly motioned him forward, and within four long strides Shemus O’Hearn was there, sweeping his daughter within his embrace. Gage’s brows flicked upward in a lopsided angle as he stepped back a respectful distance, allowing the two to have this moment together.

  “Just who the bloody hell are you, anyway?” Maurice du Mercer demanded as he stepped before Gage, but he gave the colonial no time to answer as he crisply explained, “When we started making inquiries at Newgate shortly after her boots were found, we were told that Shemaine had shipped out on the London Pride. We had the good fortune of catching sight of the Pride’s sails while we were steering a course here, and we had our captain bring our ship about to intercept the vessel. When we boarded her, Captain Fitch told us that Shemaine had been sold as an indentured servant to a colonial named Gage Thornton here in Newportes Newes. Are you that man?”

  “Aye, I’m that man.”

  Maurice’s face tightened with vexation. “The bosun on the Pride also informed us that he had heard rumors about town that the colonial who had bought Shemaine had killed his first wife.”

  “It was rumored,” Gage acknowledged sharply. “But it could never be proven because I didn’t killed her!”

  Maurice tossed his head in jeering disdain. “Why is it that I don’t believe you?”

  “Perhaps because you don’t wish to,” Gage retorted.

  “You’re right. I don’t wish to. What I really want to do is to lay you out with my fist!”

  Gage’s eyes grew noticeably less warm as he returned the Marquess’s glare. “I give you leave to try.”

  “Shemaine!” A feminine voice cried, drawing their attention to a small, slender woman with pale blond hair who was hurrying across the thoroughfare toward Shemaine and her father. On either side of her were two women garbed in servants’ attire who were hastening to keep up, one an older, plumpish woman with gray hair, and the other a maid of an age about a score and ten.

  “Mama!??
? Shemaine cried, and was immediately swept to the thoroughfare by her father. Sidestepping to avoid an oncoming wagon and team, she waved to her mother, and then, as soon as the conveyance had passed, the two came together with a cry of glee. With arms wrapped tightly about each other, they stood in the middle of the road, not caring that riders and wagons were passing in front and behind them. The fierce embrace eased to some degree, allowing them to touch and gaze at each other as if they tried to comprehend that they were actually together again.

  The older servant was weeping, anxiously awaiting her turn, and when she blew her nose loudly in a handkerchief, it finally dawned on Shemaine that their old cook was there also. Facing the elder, Shemaine hugged her jubilantly. “Oh, Bess! How wonderful it is to see you! All of you!” With a gay laugh, Shemaine stepped away and embraced the younger servant, who had come forward to claim her attention. “Nola! For heaven’s sakes, what are you doing here?”

  Her mother readily explained. “I’ve been using Nola’s services in your absence, Shemaine, because my old Sophy began ailing. But Nola will be yours again once we get you back to England.”

  Shemaine looked around and, extending her hand toward Gage again, invited him to join her. Her father and Maurice followed closely on his heels, having immediately taken a fierce dislike to the colonial. It was his familiar handling of the woman they held dear as a daughter and fiancée that they couldn’t abide.

  “Mama . . . Papa . . . Maurice . . .” Shemaine briefly settled a glance on each before she deliberately slipped an arm through Gage’s, drawing him to her. “This is my husband, Gage Thornton.”

  “Your husband!” Maurice barked. “But you were betrothed to me!”

  Catching Gage’s shoulder, Shemus spun him about until they stood toe to toe. It didn’t matter that the colonial stood a whole head taller. The elder seized his lapel and glared up at him with all the fury of an outraged father. Even his frizzled red hair, which had paled over the years with whitening strands, seemed to stand on end with his wrath. “What do you mean, marrying my daughter without my consent?”