Chase the Dawn by Jane Feather

Author:Jane Feather [Feather, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9780786272815
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1988-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Ben broke from the thicket and marched across the lawn, back to the house. A welter of emotions roiled in his head: anger with Bryony, and with himself because he should have known from experience that she would not meekly accept a proscription without just cause; anticipatory pain for both of them at the certainty of the grief they were going to feel when the time for parting came; sorrow at the nearness of that parting; and irritation at the knowledge that Francis Cullum now knew that there was more to Benedict Clare than met the eye. Inadvertently, Cullum might pass on this impression to others. Once the seeds of suspicion were sown, there was no knowing what monstrous crop they would produce.

He reached the terrace, his intention to seek out Miss Paget without further ado and express his opinion of her foolhardy action in no uncertain terms. But the voice, the voice from the nightmare past, shivered him into immobility. The bright day dimmed, and cold fingers groped his spine, lifting the scarred skin of his back to the memory of horror.

Roger Martin, his nasal twang rising above Sir Edward’s even tenor, stepped out onto the terrace. He was sweating profusely in heavy broadcloth, an elaborately curled and powdered wig contrasting with the raddled cheeks, the pale blue eyes bloodshot as he raised his tankard of brandy and drank deep. “Those damn rebels have sent General Gates to take command of their forces in the South,” he boomed. “But he’ll do no better than Lincoln, you mark my words.”

“It’s to be hoped not,” Paget said. “I much appreciate your bringing us this news, Martin.” He saw Benedict, still standing at the edge of the terrace. “Ah, Mr. Clare, we have another visitor. Mr. Martin has traveled from Georgia to bring word to Major Ferguson from Cornwallis.” Smiling, Sir Edward introduced Benedict Clare to the man Ben had sworn to see dead.

Somehow, the icy death lock holding his muscles rigid began to relax, and Benedict stepped forward. His mouth moved and conventional words came forth. His eyes showed nothing. Martin frowned and shook his head as if puzzled by something. “Met before, haven’t we?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Ben replied without a flicker, the soft lilt in his voice rather more pronounced than usual. “I have not been in the South very long. In fact, I only arrived in the Colonies three months since.”

Martin shook his head again. “Must be mistaken.” He drained his tankard. “Somethin’ demmed familiar about you, though.” He turned away rudely as if Benedict Clare could hold no further interest for him and, espying Major Ferguson, bellowed a greeting and stalked off.

“Brandy this early in the day tends to confuse,” Ben murmured gently, and Sir Edward tendered a rueful smile.

“Martin works untiringly for the king’s cause,” he offered as if apologizing for the presence of such a one under his roof. Ben had little difficulty imagining Paget’s discomfort. The Englishman was courteous in the extreme, and transgressions

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