“The Raider!” Mrs. Wentworth declared. “Don’t mention that highwayman to me. It’s people like him who are going to get us in trouble with England. We lose England’s support and then where will we be? What kind of government could we have without England to guide us?”
Abigail was concentrating on a buttered roll. “What did you hear about last night’s explosion?”
“Everyone thinks that Jessica Taggert was involved. Mr. Pitman had every right to search thei
r house, although I didn’t appreciate his waking us up to make sure we were all here. As if we’d be involved with a ruffian like that Raider,” Mrs. Wentworth said, giving her daughter a fierce look. “No one in my family would ever have anything to do with such as him.”
“Do you think Jessica Taggert was that brave?” Abigail asked. “Do you think the Raider is in love with her?”
“Love? Ha!” Mrs. Wentworth snapped.
“The town is saying she’s a heroine,” Mr. Wentworth offered. “I was out this morning and that’s all anyone could talk of, how Jessica had saved his life, and how much this town owes her. Not to mention the Raider. He’d be dead now if it weren’t for Mistress Jessica.”
Abby stood up so quickly, her chair nearly fell. “No one knows for sure that it was Jessica Taggert who saved him!” she cried. “The soldiers said she looked as if she’d been asleep and there was no evidence that she was the one who helped the Raider. If Alexander Montgomery hadn’t—”
“Now there’s a young man you ought to encourage,” Mr. Wentworth said. “Alex had many fine qualities as a boy and I’m sure—”
“Now he wears them on the outside,” Abigail interrupted. “He’s fat and ugly and lazy and he follows Jessica Taggert around like her lapdog.”
“Yes, but his father owns—”
“I don’t care what his father owns. I’d much rather have a man like the Raider than a hundred rich, fat toads like Alexander Montgomery.” She ran from the room.
Upstairs in the privacy of her own room, she was boiling angry at the entire town. Why was it assumed that a bit of riffraff like Jessica Taggert would risk her life to save the Raider? After all, wasn’t it she, Abigail, who he’d first kissed? He’d shown his disapproval of Jessica by throwing her in the washwater, but he’d obviously very much liked Abigail. So why did they think Jessica was the one who’d saved him? Why not Abigail?
She leaned forward and looked into her mirror. That mirror had come all the way from France. Wouldn’t someone as brave and gentlemanly as the Raider choose a woman from a family who could afford French mirrors? Why would anyone believe he’d want one of the Taggerts?
She heard the front door open and close as her parents left, her father going to the big ship’s chandlery he owned and her mother to the market. Not that her mother had to do her own shopping, but one can never trust servants.
Abigail kept looking at herself in the mirror and wondered what the town would think if they knew someone else had saved the Raider. Abby wondered if even the Raider knew who the woman had been. After all, it had been very dark and everyone said she had been covered from head to foot with a black cape and hood.
She stood up straighter, admiring her shape in the glass. If the Raider didn’t see the woman and he thought Abigail had saved him, then wouldn’t he be…grateful?
Of course she’d need some proof—just in case people didn’t believe her. With a smile, she thought of the flames in the fireplace downstairs.
* * *
As the Mary Catherine sailed into dock, the first thing Jessica saw was Alex glistening in the sun, looking like a small, oddly shaped lighthouse. If he was waiting for her, then he must have news she had to know.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” he called, smiling.
Jess frowned but she hoped his smile meant there was no tragic news he had to tell her. “Aye, sailor,” she called as she threw down the gangplank. “Did you bring your scented handkerchief?”
“That I did,” he called back. “And a pomander,” he said, holding up an orange studded with cloves.
He started up the gangplank, but halfway up, he seemed to have an attack of sorts. He put his hand to his head and began to sway as if he might fall. Jessica ran to him and put her arms about his waist to steady him.
“Are you all right, Alex?”
“Much better now, thank you. Just let me stand here and get my balance. No, don’t move your arms. I need your strength.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head a moment. “Ah, I think I can move now. If you’ll just help me inside.”
“Of course, Alex,” she said, holding on to him as he leaned heavily against her. She had to help him every step of the way into her cabin. She helped him into a chair. “Could I get you some rum?”
Alex sighed as he leaned back in the chair. “No, I raided the larder. Here.” Slowly, he began pulling things from his pockets: a little bottle of French cognac, half a loaf of bread, a quarter pound of cheese and a jar of mustard.
Jess laughed. “And I thought you had news.” Since Alex seemed to be so weak, she sliced the bread and cheese, applied mustard liberally and handed it to him.
“I do. Abigail Wentworth has been arrested for helping the Raider escape the gunpowder.”