Touch the Sun Read Free Page B

quite simple—and timeless. Ambition. I intend to become a congressman, or even a senator, within the next few years, and in my case a wife seems to be one of the prime prerequisites. You see, it suits me that the arrangement not be complicated by the question of love. Meeting James Wade was a stroke of luck, for it seems that Priscilla would use me as impersonally as I am using her. She will gain wealth and position in Philadelphia; I will gain the well-bred, beautiful wife that I need."
    Hannah Dick appeared at that moment to ask if the men needed more coffee.
    "No, thank you," Lion replie as he stood up. "The breakfast was delicious, but I must be away. I wouldn't want to keep my bride-to-be waiting!"
    Hannah beamed at his words, but Elisha was all too aware of the mocking glint in Lion's blue eyes. He felt stirrings of the old worry he'd had for Lion when they were young, but he forced himself to stifle them. After all, for all his recklessness, had never met with anything but success. Right now, illuminated by a soft, yellow beam of sunlight, he seemed larger than life and quite invincible.
    * * *
    "I cannot believe your capacity for immobility!" Meagan exclaimed as she pulled aside the wine and rose brocade bed-hangings. Priscilla opened one eye to the flood of sunlight and moaned convincingly.
    Meagan frowned. "It is past ten o'clock, you dolt, and your fiancé arrives today!"
    "Well, I want to look my best, don't I? Sleep is a very important part of beauty."
    "If that is the case, then you must be the most exquisite woman alive!"
    Priscilla, failing to hear the sarcasm in her voice, smiled. "Why, thank you. You know, you could stand some beauty sleep yourself, if you don't mind my saying so. You look altogether wild!"
    She threw herself down on the window seat. "My looks are of no importance to me whatever, Priscilla. Some of us have more pressing worries than the color in our cheeks."
    "How tedious," the other girl yawned, critically taking in Meagan's tangled curls and mud-spattered breeches and coat. "I can't imagine why you persist in wearing those horrid boy's clothes. It's not as if you didn't have any gowns."
    She dismissed her words with a wave of her tiny hand, which she then thrust down the front of her waistcoat, withdrawing a crumpled sheet of parchment. "I received this letter yesterday from Mr. Bumpstock."
    "Who?"
    "Father's solicitor!" Her voice took on a desperate note. "It's all been settled. The plantation and all the slaves, furniture, everything, will be sold to pay the debts and I'm to be packed off to Boston."
    "Boston? Whatever for?"
    "Mother's maiden aunt Agatha is there and she is my only living relative. Mr. Bumpstock informs me I have no choice; I shall have to go and live with her!" Meagan shuddered and scrambled to her feet, pacing across the carpet. "I only met her once; she was shriveled and deaf and smelled of musty air. I shall go out of my mind!"
    She was realizing today just how unprepared she had been for the reality of her father's financial position, even after the trail of hints dropped by Mr. Bumpstock since the shipwreck. Growing up at Pecan Grove, in a lavishly furnished mansion, Meagan had never questioned her family's wealth. However, the solicitor's letter had shown her the truth in transcripts from those frustrating ledgers; Sayers had overextended himself repeatedly. Although the profits from the plantation had been sizable, they were far exceeded by the cost of her parents' extravagant lifestyle. Meagan thought back with bewildered horror to the sumptuous dinners and balls, her mother's silk and satin gowns, the expensive furniture, and the custom-made wigs. Her bitterness left little room for forgiveness, especially when it became clear that everything would have to be sold to meet the debts, leaving her homeless.
    The crowning blow was the news that she would be moving to Boston and Aunt Agatha; Meagan's mind rebelled at the injustice of her fate. Her violet eyes