The moment the words about the tavern meeting left her mouth, Rowena knew she’d gone too far, too quickly—her biggest flaw—though she wouldn’t show James her regret.
Her cousin’s eyes sparked like flints in the dim barn. He clamped a hand on her shoulder. “How do you know where I’ve been?”
Trepidation shot through her. She’d keep him defensive. “I want to know why you were in social discourse with Mr. Long, a known rebel.”
His fingers tightened. “Ah… I’m serious, where did you get your information?” His face flamed scarlet with anger, or was it apprehension?
She raised her chin, ignoring the pain of his grip. “I saw it for myself. Now release me.”
“How the hell…?” James jerked on her shoulder. “You’re lying.”
She almost told him to ask Black Devil; but what if his surveillance was unknown to James? Who could she believe, the mysterious Welshman or her cousin? She yanked his hand from her shoulder and stepped back. “It’s the truth. Whose side are you on?”
“Rowena! How can you ask me that? Your boldness astounds me.” He scrubbed his narrow cheeks. “I still demand to know who told you this.”
“No one. I observed you there. I’m not so feeble-minded as you think.” She moved farther away from him, toward Lily’s stall. If she aspired to join the fight, she had to be honest. “There were also three rebel soldiers present. A sergeant approached your table and spoke to you.”
“Deuce it all!” James threw up his hands, then jabbed a finger at her. “You couldn’t have been there. I saw no decent young female. Though I’m beginning to wonder if you care to behave decently.”
She wouldn’t divulge her boyish ruse, not yet. “Believe what you will. But are you lying to my father about your loyalty?”
Shoulders hunched, he scuffed through the straw litter toward the stable entrance. “I cannot fathom what I’m hearing. If you were there, it would be the most imprudent act I can imagine.”
Rowena inhaled slowly. “James, we need to discuss your actions. If I were a man, you would have no problem—”
“But you are not. You’re my seventeen-year-old cousin.” He wheeled around to face her. “A girl I’m honor-bound to protect.”
“And you have no respect for women, as you stated.” Lily nudged her hand, and Rowena stroked the pony between the ears, trying to sort out her confusion.
“Forgive me. You are not feeble-minded. I spoke rashly. But you do need a stricter hand, and this proves it.” His mouth grim, he took a deep breath. “Be honest with me. How do you know who I spoke to at the tavern? And what was this about strangers in the woods? You could not have been present.”
“A stricter hand, like with a dog or a horse, cousin?” Again, that demeaning status of women being mere property. Between the open doors, she watched Sam walk her cousin’s horse about the yard. She tugged hard on an escaped curl near her cheek, thoughts racing. “Never mind about the woods for now. Answer my question. Whose side are you on? Are you betraying us?”
James moved close again, eyes hooded. “There are many complications, and layers, and you are best off knowing nothing.”
She bristled. “Then you as well are better off not knowing what I’ve done. If you’ll excuse me, I have ‘womanly’ duties to attend to.” She swept off as haughtily as she could to hide her aggravation. At the stable entrance, she paused. “You’ll find much has changed in the house. Your mother has a ridiculous suggestion. I advise you not to even consider it; I certainly don’t.” With that, Rowena stalked across the yard toward the house, skirts slapping her legs. She’d retrieve her hidden items later.
* * *
Four inches of brown curls sizzled in the bedroom fireplace. Rowena moved to the other side of her room, away from the singed stink as she flayed out her hair ends.
“Oh, Miss, ’tis a shame to cut your locks, but…” Anne shook her head and laid down the scissors. “I won’t ask why you wanted it.”
“And I won’t tell you, for your own peace of mind. There’s still enough to work with.” Rowena ran her fingers through her curls that now reached a few inches below her collar; much better for a neater queue. She slipped to the door and opened it.
The arguing continued downstairs, muffled sounds drifting up the staircase. James, Father and Aunt Elizabeth, debating her fate. Rowena had been too flabbergasted to linger in the parlor and stormed upstairs. Perhaps she should have stayed to strengthen her position. Her temper and quick tongue often got her into trouble. However, complete retreat wasn’t wise.
“Anne, quickly, pin up my hair. I must go into the fray once more.” She sat at her vanity and started pinning before Anne could reach her, her hair much easier to capture.
Minutes later, she entered the parlor and all three of them were standing in a semi-circle, Aunt Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed.
“Well, what have you decided?” she asked archly. “I, myself, won’t be forced into any arranged marriage. James and I won’t suit at all. And I’m certain that he will agree. Forgive me, Aunt Elizabeth.”
James cast her a thunderous look. “She is right, we do not suit. I won’t tether myself to a scold who never minds her tongue.”
“That is unnecessary, James.” Father shot him a warning look, then faced Aunt Elizabeth. “Furthermore, Rowena is still too young, Sister. She needs to mature, as is obvious.”
“Father, please.” Rowena felt heat in her cheeks. An outspoken woman must be childish; she couldn’t dare possess her own opinions or desires.
“A long engagement could be in order.” Aunt Elizabeth pressed her son’s arm. “James, don’t be rude to your cousin. You can stay here and farm the land for your uncle until your father is home. Then we must make other…arrangements. You’ll have your own land and farm as we did before.”
“As I said, there will be no marriage, no engagement whatsoever.” Rowena spoke matter-of-factly, though her lips tightened. She eyed James. She’d never be a farmer’s wife, especially this man’s.
“I apologize for my ill words and actions, Ro.” James tapped his hat against his thigh, his gaze sharp. “But we are of the same mind as to any nuptials.”
Father held up his hand. “Let us see which way the war turns. And I know it isn’t always fashionable, but I’d like my daughter to marry for love, as I did. When the royal officers return, Easton will be as it was with plenty of opportunities for a young lady.”
“I will pray for that, Father.” She flooded with gratefulness that he defended her.
But other worries niggled in. Would the war remain in their favor? Rowena wished she could be certain. As to love, she tried not to linger on that concept. She’d loved her mother and lost her. And now she feared for her father’s and brothers’ safety because of her love for them.
Such feelings twisted you up inside.
“On a change of subject, I must be away for a time.” James bowed to her father then turned to his mother. “It might be several weeks, but don’t fret.”
“Oh, my dear, no.” Aunt Elizabeth covered her mouth with her dainty hands. “Why? Will you be in danger?”
Father and James exchanged a quick, knowing look.
He was going to Philadelphia, Rowena surmised, as the Welshman had instructed in the woods. Her pulse jumped. She wanted to be a part of his mission. Enter camps as other women had, to gather pertinent information. Or to work as a courier. But she’d have to calm his anger toward her, and hers toward him. She’d allowed matters to get out of hand in the stable.
James put his arm around his mother. “I cannot tell you why. I’m sorry, Mother. Do you need your smelling salts, or a burnt feather?” They strolled together from the parlor.
Rowena massaged her shoulder where his fingers had clamped. She should learn how to throw a decisive punch, so men would stop groping her. How could she be away from home for any length of time? Then she recalled the letter she’d received last week from another aunt. She’d been negligent in replying.
“Father,” she gave her parent a sweet smile to mask the nerves that burned through her, “I think I need to go visiting, a break from all of this upheaval with Aunt Elizabeth and James. Isn’t Aunt Joan always asking me to call on her in Philadelphia?”
“Your mother’s sister?” Father stroked his chin in distraction. “She is probably lonely with her husband on General Cornwallis’ staff, her daughters married. I’m sure you could use a holiday. But, my dear, it doesn’t sound wise. Philadelphia is held by the rebels since General Howe deserted that city in ’78.” His grumble reiterated his opinion of Howe’s decision.
“Easton is rebel-held, and we’ve held on.” Yet she worried over how long they would avoid more persecution before the British prevailed. She gritted her teeth. The British had to win. How did these colonies think they could manage alone, without England and her guidance? Despite the unfair taxes—that could be changed. She had to believe they’d eventually have a cease-fire and mend the differences. “Perhaps Aunt Joan needs our assistance. She might even know an officer Uncle Charles is acquainted with for a possible consideration of a match…for me.” Those words nearly choked her. “Shall I pack?”
“A match, hmmm? Somehow I have my doubts.” Father scrutinized her, brows lowered. “I prefer your match to be here, after your coming out, of course. Let me think on this.”
“I’ll take Sam with me for protection. I know one of his many brothers could take his place in the stables. Don’t be uneasy.” She headed for the stairs in case Father caught the overt deceit in her eyes.