Before the Scarlet Dawn

4





There were two things Hayward Morgan knew he wanted— land, and a wife to help him build his legacy. She had to be of his class and religion, agree with his political views, preferably have a sizable dowry, come from a respectable upper class family, and be in excellent health and handsome. He had it all planned out, and as he stood from his chair and set his wine glass down on the table, he let his gaze fall on the beauty seated across from him.

The sight of Lilith Marsden’s face roused mild, earthy desires in him. He slipped his finger through his neckcloth and loosened it, then met her green eyes. “I wish to speak to you alone,” he said, bending toward her ear. “It is of the utmost importance.”

“But what about your announcement?” Lilith whispered.

“It can wait.” He stretched his hand out to her, and she lightly dropped her fingers into his. She gazed at him with shy surprise, and, with a swish of her skirts, they withdrew through a side door.

Hayward cared nothing what the rest of them in the room thought, but he caught his mother’s expression, one that said she would grieve if he were to leave home again. He lowered his eyes and shut the door behind him.

Taking Lilith by the hand, he led her down a narrow corridor that the servants used, into the shadows where there were no windows, and where he thought they were alone. Her face shone through the gloom, and he looked down into it.

Yes, she made a perfect match for him. It had to be destined for them to wed. No doubt entered his mind that his father would approve—not by the way the old man had smiled at Lilith all evening and complimented her to her mother, the widow Marsden.

“Oh, I love surprises.” Lilith’s jade eyes sparkled.

“I am glad to hear it.” Hayward drew her close and traced her jaw with his finger.

“Well, then? Do not keep me waiting in suspense, Hayward. I grow irritated by long pauses.” She shook her head with a giggle, and her blonde ringlets bounced around her face.

“I have acquired land—rich land for farming and raising horses if I choose to. I have a fine house and mill.”

“Land and a house. Other than Havendale?”

He had not told her his father had disinherited him and settled upon his cousin to gain his estate.

She sighed. “I am exceedingly happy for you . . . and for the fortunate woman who shall be mistress of it. Where is your house? Tell me it is in Derbyshire, for I love the countryside here. Or is it near London? I adore the city with all its distractions.”

“No, it is far away,” he replied.

Her smiled faded and she pouted. “Oh? Do not tell me it is too far, for that might cause me to be sad, and I do not wish to be sad, Hayward. We have only recently renewed our acquaintance, and I feel quite attached to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lilith.” He kissed her temple. “But before I tell you where it is, you must know there is one thing my estate lacks.”

Again she sighed when he kissed her jaw. “And what may that be?”

“A lady. And if you decline what I am about to offer . . .”

Her lips parted. “I am listening.”

“. . . I will be disappointed.”

“You hold me in suspense, sir. Tell me what it is you propose.”

“I need a wife to guide my house and give me sons. She must be in superior health and of a willing nature, and she must desire above all else to please me . . . in obedience and in my bed.” Through the dim light he saw her face flush scarlet. “I see my words have caused you embarrassment. Forgive me, but I have to be forthright.”

She blinked and looked shyly away. “Indeed, I forgive you. Please go on.”

He drew her into his arms. “I believe you are exactly what I need.”

“Oh?”

“My father certainly approves of you.”

“And my mother approves of you.”

He brushed his mouth over her cheek.

“You mustn’t do that,” she said.

“Why not? You enjoy it, don’t you?”

Her eyes gazed into his. “Yes, I suppose I do. But if you continue, I fear I shall surrender my will and answer your proposal too quickly.”

He studied her expression and concluded her apprehension grew out of past experience. “You understand, then, what I am asking you?”

“Indeed, I do. I have hoped for this day. But first, tell me, where is your land, and what kind of house have you? I must know, if I am to live in it the rest of my life.”

“I have named it River Run. The fields are as green as what you may find in Ireland, and the river murmurs like a cooing mother. Great forests surround it, and a peaceful stream runs through it. The house is large, and the mill is made of stone from the mountains.”

“It sounds wonderful,” she said, pressing a finger against his lips to silence him. “But by what river is this fine place? The River Tamar in Cornwall?”

He hesitated, and his muscles tightened. She could not think any further than England? “No. It is called the Potomac.”

She stared at him, puzzled. “I do not recall any river by that name.”

He glanced away, then looked at her again. “You ignorant darling. It flows between Maryland and Virginia.”

She broke out of his arms and stepped back. “What? The Colonies?”

“I just told you it is.”

“I do not care if it is in the Garden of Eden. I shall not go there to live. It is a wilderness, and I would be reduced to a workwoman. And there is talk of revolution. I cannot leave my mother. She is a widow. It would grieve her too deeply, and I am certain she would not approve of such an arrangement. No.”

“You would be with me.” He pulled her back by the arm. “I plan to be one of the richest landowners in Maryland. You can bring your dear mother along, if she is willing.”

“The answer is still no.I will stay in England where I belong. Buy land here and give me a fine house, and I shall say yes.”

Hayward bit down on his lip as she glided away. Once, she turned and looked back at him, lifted her chin, and went on. The sting of her rejection and her demands coursed through him, and he clenched his fists at his sides. How could she have turned him down? Did insanity run in the females of her family?

He turned in the opposite direction, toward the corner that led into the grand hallway. The light from the windows brightened as he neared the corner. Strange—a mild scent of lavender and rosewater wafted in the air. As he turned, a silhouette of a woman’s face, her broad hat, and a cascade of loose ebony curls brushed the wall in shadow.

He stopped short. With a gasp, Eliza arose from a chair.





As soon as she sprang to her feet, heat rushed over her face as if she had come close to a fire. She drew in her breath and wished she could fade into the wall away from his startled gaze and piercing eyes, a step or two farther into the shadows.

The light fell over his shoulders. His brows furrowed, and he stared down at her as if she were a serving wench. Her gown did not match his rich attire. He was dressed in the finest linen, with fine leather boots, and a black crepe ribbon tied his hair back into a ponytail. Perhaps Fiona had been right, she should not get her hopes too high.

He did not look the part of a man bent on living in the colonial wilds. When she tried to imagine him pushing a plow, pitching hay, or milking a cow, a cynical smile spread over her face.

The silence grew louder than speech, and she gave him a slight curtsy and addressed him. “I have come to speak with your mother, sir. You had advised me to do so. Remember?”

He shifted on his feet. “She is engaged.”

“I do not mind waiting.” She lowered herself back into the chair.

“You are dressed . . . well, not as I last saw you. Your hair . . .”

“I do know the attire of a lady, sir, even though I have no claim to a title or come from a family of aristocrats.”

“Aristocrats? Hardly.” Hayward paused and cleared his throat. “The servant should not have kept you sitting in the hallway. My mother will not meet with you. We have guests, which you probably realized, as I was speaking to one close enough for you to hear our conversation.”

Eliza bit her lip and withdrew her gaze when she saw him catch the action with his eyes, eyes that softened and admired. She stood. “I shall go then, and call on her tomorrow.”

“Your reason for seeing her?”

“When you and I met out on the moor, after you chased away those ruffians, you said that if I needed employment, to come to Havendale, that your mother would find something for me. I am hoping she will.”

“I learned my father gave you notice. It is only expected that a new vicar should arrive to replace your father. I grew concerned and spoke to her about your situation.”

Hope revived within Eliza. “You did?”

“Your father was our family pastor. I did not wish to see you on the streets begging—figuratively, of course—for I doubt you would find a husband in this dire situation. You should not have rejected Langbourne. Men do not easily forget or forgive rejection.”

“My opinion of Mr. Langbourne has not changed. I know I should not speak to you of such personal issues, but I will not marry one whom I do not love. I shall come to Havendale and work for your family. There is no shame in that.”

He paused and stepped closer. “I am afraid there is nothing here for you, and my father hasn’t the money to spend. Haven’t you any family to go to? An aunt or uncle perhaps? There is your brother. Surely he would help his sister.”

Eliza’s hopes were dashed instantly, but she refused to let him see her disappointment. God had some way, other than hers, in mind. “No. My brother, I have only just learned, is dead.” She lowered her head.

“I am sorry.” He paused, then said, “I wish you good fortune, Miss Bloome.”

He turned on his heel to leave.

“Please, Hayward. Do not leave. I will go with you to America.”

Astonished, he turned to face her. “What did you say?”

“I will go with you . . . to America. I am not afraid to do it. I can work hard, and I am in perfect health. I have a keen mind, too, and a head for figures. I could help you with the books. And I know how to milk a cow and shoe a horse.”

“You overhead my conversation with Miss Marsden,” he said, affronted.

“I could not help it. There was no place else to go.”

He looked away, his mouth twisting. “It is my fault for assuming no one would overhear. I should have taken her to another room. Did I hear you correctly that . . .”

She met his eyes with a lift of her chin. “What you offered Miss Marsden is indeed beyond what she deserves from the way she treated you, solely because your land is in the Colonies.” She saw his jaw tighten but went on. “It is the chance to build a legacy. To find freedom. She is too blind and too spoiled to see the good in your offer.”

“You mustn’t speak of your betters in such a manner. You are a bold creature.”

“I admit I am.”

For a long moment, he gazed into her face, and she waited for him to speak. “No,” he finally said.

Amazed he would deny her, she looked him straight in the eyes with a challenge. “Why? I have all that you seek. In this instance, I daresay I am far superior than Miss Marsden.”

His eyes glinted with superiority. “I cannot wed a vicar’s daughter.”

“At least, as a vicar’s daughter, I have been raised to be a good woman, not spoiled like your lady who just threw you over. If she loved you, she would go anywhere with you.”

He laughed. “And you are saying you do.”

“Well . . . I suppose I am.”

He gave her a short bow. “I am flattered. But there is the matter that I do not love you, Eliza. For all your beauty, some would say it is amazing that I do not.”

Stung into silence, Eliza swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. She did not think him cruel, only honest. But what monstrous pride had he! Why on earth would she even consider such a man? At the least, Langbourne wanted her. But not this man. He treated her as if she were a child. She dug in her heels, resolute not to lose his attention. She raised her eyes slowly and forced a sweet smile.

“Do not think me so dull as not to know it, sir. At the same time, I can see you really do regard me with some affection. Can you deny it?”

“Affection or attraction, madam?”

“Either, and the chance of you being in love with me had not crossed my mind. How could you love me? You do not know me well enough, nor have you spent sufficient time with me to know my mind. Most likely, you do not love Miss Marsden. If you were in love with her, you would give up your American dream and give her what she wants.”

“This is awkward indeed.” He touched her throat and caressed it. The shock it gave caused her to tremble. “You are certainly beautiful and chaste, Eliza, and I have no doubt you are as strong as you say, but you are meanly born.”

She slapped his hand aside. “Oh, how dare you speak to me of lowering yourself? If anything, it is I that has been humbled by offering my hand to you . . . my life. Here a highborn woman has turned you down, and I willingly break all the rules by saying I would be your wife, help you build your estate, bear your children, be willing to leave my homeland for a wilderness, and you call me meanly born? Oh, sir, your enormous pride is an affront, no doubt, to everyone who encounters you.”

Insulted, the muscles on his face jerked. He grabbed her by the arms and pressed her against him. His mouth went near hers, but did not touch.

“The answer . . . is . . . no.” His breath caressed her lips and she whimpered. He released her and stormed away.

Eliza stood alone in the dusky hallway battling tears. She shut her eyes and allowed the droplets to fall down her cheeks, standing alone in a house she now hated.