Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland Read online

  No, that look his friend shot him was not good. Not good at all. Hope mixed with determination, and a bit too much certainty. Emerson handed off the bag to a stable hand. “Oh, just a trip for personal matters. Hopefully short. I feel the sudden urge to visit our alma mater, Wiley, and pay my respects to Mr. Randel.”

  Wiley bit back a curse. “Mr. Randel, you say? The two of you never much liked each other.”

  “No, but you and he always did, didn’t you? I cannot believe I missed it this long. You did not just cancel your trip, you sent her in your stead. They had even invited her to begin with, had they not?” He shook his head. “She merely traveled with the Thomases as you had planned to do.”

  Wiley swept his hat off his head and dashed it to the ground. “Emerson—”

  “You wonder how I finally pieced that together?” His friend offered his usual charming smile, the one Wiley hadn’t seen since…well, since it was aimed at Penelope. “Chance—no, Providence—led me to Mr. Thomas’s door for some legal advice today. But of course, he wasn’t home—though I had forgotten that—so I asked after him at the post office. And once Mr. Tillman began talking…well. He is always a fount of information, is he not?”

  Wiley’s dusty hat looked pitiful on the ground. He picked it up with a sigh and brushed it off. “And you think the proper response is to rush after her? Emerson, I wrote her as I said I would, and I told her I thought you sincere in your desire to make things right. Mother has urged her to come home as well. Give her a chance to respond.”

  “No.” Something else burned in Emerson’s eyes now, something closer to need. “I cannot rest until I see her again, until I can speak to her myself. I cannot sit idly by now that I know where she has gone.”

  Wiley shook his head. “Emerson, she will not receive you. Not yet. Give her time to heal. Write her a letter—”

  “It is not enough.” Yet he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked suspiciously like one. Though it appeared a bit worn, so it was surely not one he had just written her. “This letter she wrote has shown me a glimpse of the young lady I ignored, and I must know more of her. More than ink and paper can tell me, more than the miles between us allow.”

  “Oh. Hmm.” Several choice words flitted through Wiley’s mind. Most of them pertaining to what his sister might do to him if she realized he had given Emerson the note she had written only for cathartic purposes. He took a step back from her imaginary rage and folded his hands behind his back. “You kept that.”

  Emerson looked at him as if he were a madman. “Of course I kept it. What did you think I would do, toss it into the fire?”

  Wiley hadn’t really thought that far ahead when he carried it downstairs along with the jewelry. He had only wanted Emerson to see what he had lost, and why he had lost her. “I had hoped so. She…well, to be honest, she wrote it for her own benefit, not for me to give to you. Before we went down to the library.”

  “Before?” Emerson’s hand fell limp to his side, his expression one of a man who had been stripped of his last shred of hope. “She felt this way before she saw what she did?”

  Well, deuces. Wiley hadn’t meant to make him feel worse. “Since her birthday, though I suspect it had been brewing a while before that.”

  Emerson’s shoulders sank. “So even had I not been a complete dunderhead with your cousin, she might have cried off.”

  “Hence why you need to give her time to sort through things. ’Tisn’t only about her justified anger, ’tis about what she desires in general.”

  Emerson’s shoulders rolled into alignment again. “No. Hence why I need to make all haste to Annapolis and bring her home. We must address this.”

  Wiley sucked in a breath and blew it back out in a gust. “There is no talking you out of it, is there? Short of tying you down for the next three months.”

  “None.”

  “Then I will come with you. If you convince her to return home, you cannot travel together alone.”

  Emerson quirked a brow. “My mother has already considered that, Wiley, and has sent me with a letter for a friend of hers—an upstanding widow from Annapolis who has been wanting to visit. She would make a better chaperone than you. Besides, your original reason for staying here still holds. You must keep an eye on Penelope.”

  Blast, he was right. Who knew what stories the little minx might come up with if both he and Emerson left? They could return to find a very different wedding in the planning. Wiley sighed and set his hat back onto his head. “Emerson…try not to be an idiot, will you?”

  Emerson offered a crooked smile. “That is my foremost goal as well.”

  “Go with God, then.”

  “Thank you. I shall return soon, my friend, with your sister.”

  Wiley clasped his hand, but he couldn’t stop the shake of his head. Somehow, he didn’t think Emerson would find it so easy when he knocked on Randel’s door. Now that Lark had taken a stand, she wouldn’t be easy to budge.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lark spun through the last steps of the cotillion, petticoats flashing, and laughed as the music came to a boisterous end. Out of breath and feeling pleasantly flushed, she curtsied to her partner and made no objection when he offered to fetch her some punch.

  “You are such a good dancer.” Sena linked their arms together with a grin and spun them in a quick circle. “You put me to shame. It is no wonder all the best partners seek you out.”

  Her cheeks grew hotter, but Lark laughed. She wasn’t so sure of the reason—for all she knew Sena had put all her gentlemen friends up to it—but she had indeed found herself the center of much male attention at the collation and dance this evening. Strange and new. And elating.

  “Here you are, Miss Benton.” Mr. Selby handed her a cup of punch with a small bow. “Could I bring you anything else? A coconut jumble perhaps, or a little sugar cake?”

  “I thank you, Mr. Selby, but no. This is all I need.” She took a sip to prove it.

  Sena tilted her head. “Off again, are you, Mr. Selby?”

  The gentleman bowed and smiled. “Only for a moment, Miss Randel. My mother is beckoning, no doubt wanting some refreshment as well. I shall return forthwith.”

  Lark smiled him away and turned to Sena to express her amazement at the evening’s progression, but she halted when another bevy of young men approached. Gracious, Sena seemed to be acquainted with the entire continent.

  “There you are, gentlemen!” Sena grinned and pulled Lark closer to her side. “Allow me to make introductions. Lark darling, these are Misters Alderidge, Forrister, and Litchfield, and that fellow hiding behind them is dear Mr. Woodward. All former pupils of my father, soldiers of the bravest mettle, and devoted Annapolitans. Gentlemen, Miss Lark Benton.”

  One of them stepped forward—Mr. Litchfield, was it?—and held out a hand. When she placed her fingers upon his, he bowed over them while directing a saucy smile her way.

  Acrobats leapt in her stomach. Ever since she had been old enough to attend balls, she had been betrothed to Emerson. No one in Williamsburg had ever flirted with her. Even if a man took her hand, it was nevertheless to someone else he would direct his grin. She scarce knew how to respond, but with a small smile.

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss.” Though he released her fingers, his expression remained interested. Interested! In her. “I confess we all wondered who the lovely young woman with Miss Randel was, especially when we saw how you dance on the air. In spite of its arriving with another snowstorm, this new year obviously agrees with you.”

  A laugh tickled her throat. “All twenty hours of it, yes.”

  “You must be new to our fair town,” another of the men said. Forrister, perhaps? He had a dimple that flashed when he smiled. “Certainly I would remember had I seen you here before.”

  “Always the charmer, Mr. Forrister.” Sena chuckled. “She is from Williamsburg. Mr. Woodward, you spent some time there, did you not?”

  The three in front part
ed to give their friend room to answer. Mr. Woodward, Lark saw, was a young man of slight stature and had a scholarly look about him. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him charging across a field of battle with a musket in hand. “A few months,” he said softly, “when I was a boy. I enjoyed my time there very much.”

  Sena stood on tiptoe, gaze on the other side of the room. “Excuse us, gentlemen. You can all convince Miss Benton of your wit and winning personalities in a few moments. I must introduce her to Charlotte Griffith.”

  When they had gone a few steps, Lark grinned. “A friend of yours you must introduce me to, yet who is in your society? Well, this is a first.”

  Sena shot her an amused glance. “She is no Kate or Alice, but we have always been friendly enough. I suppose it seems as though I have two separate lives, does it not?” Her brows wiggled. “It is true. I am really a spy, but pretending to be a young lady of respectable society. A pirate captain, secretly undermining the community by infiltrating their youth and filling their minds with nonsense.”

  “Dastardly.” Fanning herself, Lark tamped down another laugh but let the grin spill forth. “Little do you know I am also a pirate captain, from an enemy vessel no less, here to undermine your undermining. Beware, Cap’n Mobcap. I shall not see this community undone. I rather like it.”

  “Captain Mobcap?” Sena tossed her head back in a laugh. Dark curls danced around her shoulders. “We ought to write that down and weave a yarn for the boys.”

  “Aye, we should.” Lark stepped out of the way of a quick-moving adolescent boy and took another sip.

  Sena waved at someone and led Lark around a table full of sweets. “Here we are. Charlotte, you look beautiful this evening. I brought a new friend to introduce. Lark Benton of Williamsburg.”

  It seemed Lark had heard herself being introduced more in the past few weeks than in all her life before. She smiled at Charlotte. “Good to meet you, Miss Griffith.”

  “Oh, you may call me Charlotte. Any friend of Sena’s will surely be mine as well.” Charlotte grinned and absently smoothed a ruffle on her dress. “I was wondering who the newcomer was, causing such a stir with the menfolk. I suppose ’tis too much to hope you are a penniless nobody they will lose interest in within a day.”

  Sena shook her head with sparkling eyes. “Too much to hope indeed.”

  “I feared as much.” Charlotte gave a dismissive wave with her fan. “I ought to be used to such things—there is always someone new distracting them from those of us always here. Sena somehow holds their attention, but we cannot all manage that. Though perhaps if we all employed her antics…”

  “Not all could manage that, either.” Sena looked as though she would like to stick her tongue out at her friend.

  Lark’s smile faded. Though the idea of causing a stir with the men had given her heart a little jolt, the truth of Charlotte’s observation sobered her. She was a novelty, nothing more.

  Charlotte seemed to realize her comment had bordered on insulting. She winced and offered a conciliatory smile. “You are right, Sena, and I meant it not to come out so… You are a delight. More a delight than most of us can hope to be. And Miss Benton, one can see your sweet spirit from across the room. I am so glad Sena brought you over. But”—eyes sparkling, she leaned close—“if you are searching for a beau, there is no better option than my own darling brother, seen there by the doors. He cuts a fine figure, does he not?”

  Before Lark could look for him, Sena laughed. “Clever, Charlotte. Direct her to the one young man you could have no interest in yourself.”

  “I thought it the perfect plan.”

  Lark laughed and settled into the conversation—one she could participate in with ease. Yet as she spoke of gowns and bonnets, handsome men and coquettish women, she couldn’t help but think all their words amounted to nothing. No talk of faith and prayer and purpose. No serious topics.

  No wonder Sena led two separate lives.

  “Ah, there is my brother now.” Charlotte reached for an approaching young man and introduced him.

  Mr. Griffith bowed to her and held out a hand. “If I might have this dance, Miss Benton?”

  She placed her fingers in his with a murmur of agreement, but a flash of dark hair in her periphery stole her attention, and her head swiveled.

  Not Emerson. Of course not. He was in Williamsburg. Not here, at this New Year’s celebration, but in his own home with his own friends. As he should be.

  She smiled again at Mr. Griffith—a handsome man with lovely brown eyes that did not put her in mind of Emerson’s—and followed him back to the dance floor.

  Freedom sang through her, and only now did she realize why. Emerson was not here. Emerson was no longer a concern. For the first time, she didn’t have to wonder if he would look her way at a ball, if he would notice or even care if she danced with anyone else. He would not be in a corner with the other young men, ignoring her, would not therefore make it clear the obligatory two dances they shared were only given because of expectation.

  Until now, every time she took to the floor with someone else, she had fought back a mixture of longing that Emerson would see and be jealous, and worry that he would think her forward. Both concerns butting heads with the nagging thought that he wouldn’t notice at all. More often than not, that had been exactly the case. And when notice he did, he certainly didn’t seem to care. Because he was secure in her affections?

  Hardly. Her affections had never seemed to enter his mind at all.

  But no matter now. He could neglect her no longer, and so her night would not be stained with realization of it.

  Perhaps that was why the evening shone so bright.

  * * * * *

  Emerson watched the once-familiar streets of Annapolis, buried now in snow, roll by his carriage window. Over the years since he lived here, new houses and businesses had sprung to life, while some he had known were boarded up and abandoned. Though the war never touched the city, it had clearly felt the effects.

  Annapolis had never been home, though he spent most of his adolescence here. His lips quirked up as he remembered the dread of coming back to this place as a boy. It meant the end of holiday, the start of school once again. Much better were the times he had gotten to leave it, with those weeks of unstructured days stretching before him.

  This time was different. This time he breathed in the Maryland air with a smile and thanked the Almighty for getting him here safely, in spite of the snowstorm that had raged through yesterday. He would have a room secured by noon, be at the Randels’ soon after. A few hours baring his soul to Lark, a visit to his mother’s friend… With any luck, the three of them would be leaving again in the morning, before more bad weather could strike.

  A short while later, Josiah pulled the carriage to a stop outside Middleton Tavern, and Emerson jumped down. He gave his servant a grin. “You take care of the horses, Josiah, while I secure the lodgings.”

  “Sounds good, Mr. Emerson.” The cheerful man gave a wave and climbed down from the driver’s bench.

  Emerson strode into the inn and quickly located the proprietor. “Good day, sir. I am in need of lodgings for me and my servant.”

  The burly man nodded. “Any idea how long you intend to stay?”

  “Ah.” Best to be reasonable. “At least one night, possibly more.”

  “Well, we’ve a fine room available in the rear of the building, overlooking the gardens.”

  “That will do quite nicely.” He would settle into it, then seek out Lark.

  As he followed the man up the stairs, he prayed she wouldn’t slam the door in his face.

  * * * * *

  “Girls, would you do a favor for me?”

  Lark and Sena looked up from their stitching. Mr. Randel had stepped halfway into the room, Annabelle bundled in his arms. Sena smiled. “What is it, Papa?”

  “I promised Mr. Lloyd I would look over a speech for him and need to return it to the State House this afternoon. But your mother just fell
asleep, and Mrs. Green is out with the boys, Rory on another errand for me…. Could I trouble you to deliver it? I realize the streets are still snowy—”

  “Trouble?” Sena leapt up. “I thrive on it. Of course we shall go. Is there a session today for us to eavesdrop on?”

  Mr. Randel chuckled. “As if you would find that particular eavesdropping interesting. Just leave the papers with a clerk and leave the poor statesmen alone.”

  Lark stood to run after Sena, who had already vaulted up the stairs. Lark had barely reached the bedchamber before Sena was whirling round again. At least she had grabbed Lark’s cloak and bonnet as well as her own. They attired themselves on the return trip down the stairs and paused at the bottom to attach the pattens to their leather boots.

  When they looked up, the manservant’s son waited beside Mr. Randel.

  Sena sighed. “Papa, there is no need to inconvenience Little Rory with this. The State House is all of two steps away.”

  “And the last time you went to it—with me, no less—you slipped away to pay a visit to Mrs. Mattimore in a side of town I would just as soon you not go to alone.” He clapped a hand on the gangly boy’s shoulder. “If you intend to do the same today, which I deem highly likely given your friend’s lack of reply to our offer of employ, you will go with escort.”

  Lark smothered a grin at the exasperation on Sena’s face. Exasperation that soon pulled up into mirth as she accepted a bundle of papers from her father. “You know me too well, Papa.”

  He opened the door for them, and Lark and Sena stepped out, Little Rory a step behind them. Tying her bonnet under her chin as chilled air swept over her, Lark let Sena dash ahead. “And our hurry today is what? Are we going to sneak onto the ferry to pay a visit to an outcast friend on the Eastern Shore? Perhaps keep tryst with your pirate crew?”

  Sena laughed and waited for her on the walkway, grinning at their young escort. “Little Rory is more fun than Papa would like to think, so all options are open. Who can tell what adventure we might stumble into?”

  “With you, my dear friend, only the Lord Himself can know.”