Face to Face (The Deverell Series Book 2) Read Free Page B

laughed. “You do realize that your father would consider this treason,” he warned, with a grin, before he ordered the driver to continue on.
    It was an ode about the British, more cleverly and harshly worded than the rhymes of her radical friends. But it expressed the same sentiment which could be found among the English young of her political mindset.
    “It is not treason to want equality. Not even in England,” Merry said spiritedly.
    Morgan’s smile was tender and amused. “Still, I would not save that for Kate.”
    That statement packed a double punch that made Merry look up to study him. First, it was remarkable to Merry that he remembered her cousin Kate. Second, there was the suggestion that she would see her cousin again.
    He had never done that before today, given her hope that she’d be returned to her family. On Isla del Viento , he had told her he would never release her. Her anxious eyes searched his face, but all he gave her was a small, enigmatic grin.
    The carriage pulled to a stop in front of an inn. It seemed they were staying at least one night in the city. As he guided her through the noisy, shoving throng, she realized he had many friends here. Captain Devereux was a respected and well-known man. Eyes followed him as he moved through the crowd, and women turned their heads to openly stare at him.
    This establishment was far more elegant and crowded than the carriage stop had been. Before they reached the stairs, Morgan was hailed by a serious looking portly man who, Merry soon learned, was a representative of the Virginia legislature.
    After a quick introduction of her as Captain Devereaux’s wife, the man paid her no notice at all. He launched into a lengthy discourse about the increasing oppression of the British blockade, and those idiots in Washington who had started this damn war, without a thought for the hapless American merchants.
    That led to an inquiry of what kind of cargo Captain Devereaux had run in. It seemed even a man of the Government could be flexible with his patriotism when his wife’s wants were at stake. English muslin, English tea, coffee and sugar from the Indies. He was in the market for all, if Morgan had in his cargo run through the blockade those precious luxuries too difficult to find of late.
    After several minutes, Morgan handed her off to a maid, who took Merry upstairs to their room while Morgan continued below in his discourse with the American. In their room Merry found hot food waiting in a luxurious bedchamber.
    She had finished her meal and was standing by the window when Morgan joined her. He came up beside her, brushing back the lace under curtains. “That’s the James River you’re staring at,” he informed her. “They say it resembles the Thames. I do not see it.”
    There was something strange in his voice she couldn’t make reason of. She stared at the river. “It does resemble the Thames. You need to look with more than your eyes to see it.” Turning to face him, she asked, “Are you an American? It that how you manage this so brilliantly? Because it is no fiction at all?”
    “Don’t work so hard to put the pieces together, Merry. I am what I am. I make a small fortune running in goods here. Most of the parts of any man lead back to coin. Would you like to go walk in the city? You seem quite captivated by what you see here.”
    Morgan’s tone was without censure, his gaze warmly amused, and Merry cautioned herself it would serve her not at all if she continued to follow whichever way he pulled her.
    She glanced at the crowd beneath the window. The right thing, on every account, would be to refuse to go with him. Why couldn’t she force the words through her lips?
    Merry could feel him watching her and she glanced back up at him. It was an error to do so. He read her mind with effortless precision, took her hand, and before she could answer him they were off.
    A few moments passed, angry with him in her mind, before she was outdoors and