Revolutionary Temptation Read online

  Eli now realized his mental image of this leading lady of the New York social scene had been sadly lacking. He’d heard she was beautiful, and he’d expected a woman with poise and good conversation, but the real Mrs. Sullivan fairly bristled with intelligence and an air of aggression he found most arousing. Most ladies of good society would still be in bed at this hour, not patronizing a bookshop. Yes, there was far more to Mrs. Sullivan than he’d known, and he intended to tease out all her secrets.

  “Do tell me what you would like to order?”

  “Experiments and Observations on Electricity by Mr. Benjamin Franklin.”

  “Ah, an excellent work, most enlightening. Is it for your husband?” It wouldn’t do to give away what he knew of her. Only a rare man like Eli understood that women were just as capable of comprehending Mr. Franklin’s work as men were.

  A frown betrayed her annoyance, but she schooled her face with impressive speed. “No, sir. My husband is dead.”

  “My condolences.”

  “Thank you, sir. At least he died while serving His Majesty.”

  Eli inclined his head. “Yes, at least you have the reassurance he was an upright man who cared for the morals of our country.”

  “That is a comfort.”

  He knew well that flat tone used to espouse sentiments one didn’t mean. He often heard it from his own mouth, particularly when professing loyalist sympathies. Was Mrs. Sullivan a patriot in disguise? Most likely she was simply indifferent to politics, more concerned with holding on to her money and social status than ousting the British, but he wouldn’t rule her out as a potential ally.

  “So the book is for…?”

  “It is for me, sir.”

  As he’d suspected. “I see. Then perhaps after you read it, we could discuss it.”

  She studied him openly. “I believe that would be a worthy diversion.”

  Eli bowed. “I would be of service to you in any way possible.”

  Would she be amenable to a liaison? He’d not heard many rumors connecting her with men, but he doubted she had reason to deny herself. Sadly, he was wise enough to know she might be far more useful to him as a friend than as a lover, since friendship would endure much longer. Mrs. Sullivan was acquainted with most of the high-ranking British officers, men who might patronize his shop and who would certainly be interested in his other, more lucrative endeavor—providing hard-to-come-by luxury goods to the people of New York.

  “I thank you for that, sir. How long have you owned this shop? I thought it had closed when the occupation began.”

  “It did for a time because my uncle, the previous owner, bought a commission in His Majesty’s army. I was able to convince him to allow me to reopen it.”

  “Turner De Lancey is your uncle?”

  “Yes. My father’s brother. My mother and I were estranged from the family for a time after my father’s death, and I took her last name.” And he had no intention of ever relinquishing it. “When I expressed interest in moving into the city and setting up a trade, my uncle offered to pass the business along to me.” Eli hated the man, but he had no qualms about using the connection to benefit himself. If he could succeed, he’d own the store outright and finally be free from the family he despised.

  “The city is fortunate to have you here. No other shop has such a diverse collection.”

  “I thank you most heartily, madam. If I remember correctly, we do have a copy of Mr. Franklin’s excellent book, though it is in the storeroom and not yet on the shelf.”

  Mrs. Sullivan frowned. “I came by the store late yesterday, and the boy I spoke to checked the storeroom. He said there were no copies to be had and I must speak to the owner about an order.”

  Perhaps Billy had been unable to find the copy, but if Eli remembered right, it was exactly where one would expect it to be. He’d been hesitant to leave the store, but he’d desperately needed to make a few purchases. “I do apologize that you had to return today.”

  “It is no matter; I was at leisure, and now I’ve had the opportunity to make your acquaintance. I can’t regret that.”

  Eli gave her his most charming smile. “Now who’s doing the flattering?”

  “I speak only the truth.”

  “Thank you, madam. It is possible the copy I’m thinking of is already spoken for, but I will take a look in case I’m correct after all. Please wait here.” He gestured to a chair in his office. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat to offer a lady of her means, but it would be adequate. “I’ll return shortly.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Her eyes lingered over him, betraying her interest in more than his books. Though he hadn’t expected to see anyone of note, he always made a point of taking care in his appearance so as to make the most of his assets. One never knew when a chance meeting might occur, as evidenced by Mrs. Sullivan’s presence. The chocolate-brown coat he’d selected that morning made his blond hair appear even lighter, and the intricate embroidery made it look more finely made than it actually was. His boots gleamed, giving him the appearance of a man who was well taken care of. One day, maybe, he wouldn’t be polishing them himself.

  Once in the storeroom, Eli found Mr. Franklin’s book exactly where he’d thought it was. Why hadn’t Billy found it?

  As he closed the door, he heard a faint sound, like a drawer being pushed closed. “Billy? Is that you?” he called into the shop.

  He walked through the store, expecting to find the boy waiting, but saw no one. Perhaps it was just a book tipping over or Mrs. Sullivan shifting in her chair. He locked the door before returning to her. At least then no one else would surprise him.

  “Mrs. Sullivan, you’re in luck. I have found a copy,” he said as he entered his office once again. She was seated as he’d left her. Had he simply imagined the noise? He’d had far too little sleep and too much anxiety over the store and the state of his finances. “Shall I wrap it up for you?”

  “Yes, please, that would be most kind.”

  “I can start an account for you if you’d prefer.”

  “That would be lovely. I’m quite taken with the place, so I know I will return.”

  Eli offered his arm to assist her in rising. “Let’s step out front where I can record the sale.”

  When they reached the counter in the main area of the shop, he pulled out his ledger and began recording the name and price of the book.

  While he did so, Mrs. Sullivan explored the display of plays he had arranged near the front. He was proud of the beautiful leather volumes, and Mrs. Sullivan seemed equally taken.

  Every move she made as she circled the display appeared calculated to show her figure to advantage. She glanced up and caught him staring, but she did not seem to mind. “Do you enjoy the theater, Mr. Ashfield?”

  “Very much. Though I’ve had precious little chance to partake of it.”

  “I hear the officers will be reopening the John Street Theater. Perhaps that will provide all of us with a bit of the culture that’s been lacking since the war began.”

  “I would enjoy that, and I am sure much of the rest of the citizenry would as well.”

  They completed the transaction. As Eli wrapped the book in brown paper and tied it with string, she said, “I do appreciate your searching for this book for me when you were not yet open for business. I shall be sure to tell my acquaintances of the excellent service you’ve rendered me.”

  “It was nothing, but I do thank you, and a word to others would be much appreciated. Do you have a carriage waiting? I would be happy to carry the package out for you.”

  She shook her head. “I came on foot, sir. I find I enjoy the exercise.”

  “Then might I escort you home?”

  She laughed, the sound high and bright. Her reaction told Eli she knew he was offering a tryst if she were so inclined. “I appreciate the kindness, sir, but I have other errands I must attend to, and you have business here. However, I’m certain this shall not be the last we see of each other.”

 
; “I certainly hope not. My world would be greatly diminished if I were not able to continue this acquaintance.”

  “Good day, sir,” she called as the door closed behind her.

  Eli watched through the window as she headed down the street. Be careful with that one, he told himself. Beautiful, charming, witty, intelligent. Everything he liked, but something about her… She could be devious as well, he was certain of it. And what business did a man who secretly penned essays supporting the rebels have considering a connection with the widow of one of the town’s most prominent loyalists? Her husband had been nearly as vicious in his condemnation of the rebels as Eli’s uncle.

  Still, Mrs. Sullivan could be of great assistance. Perhaps in a day or two he’d write her to ask what she thought of the book and renew the suggestion that they discuss it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After Mrs. Sullivan left, Eli made himself a cup of tea, and then he finished his essay, sealed it, and tucked it away inside his coat. His printer had hoped to have a chance to stop by the bookstore, but Eli was feeling far too confined. Something about talking to Mrs. Sullivan had him itching to move about the city, to see more of the society his wealthier relatives had never permitted him to partake of.

  Was it too soon to write Mrs. Sullivan a letter thanking her for her business and reinforcing his desire to continue their acquaintance? No. Yes.

  He sighed. He had no patience at all. His impetuousness was the main thing his mother had scolded him for. It had always been his most grievous sin, but no matter the consequences he suffered, he couldn’t cure it.

  Perhaps he’d distract himself with a walk. He could make the delivery to his printer, and then he’d return and open the shop.

  For a moment he reconsidered the idea of strolling streets filled with His Majesty’s soldiers while carrying an incriminating piece of paper. However, he had no intention of behaving suspiciously, and his connection with the De Lanceys set him above reproach. He’d have to join the rebel army or abuse the king publicly to arouse suspicion. He was safe enough.

  Thinking like that is dangerous.

  Perhaps, but if he refused to take risks, he’d never get anywhere.

  He closed the door of his office and locked it. Billy would be returning from his errands soon, hopefully having collected any mail Eli had received. He trusted the boy to an extent, but there were valuables in Eli’s office, not to mention seditious writings of his own and of others who supported the rebel cause. Safe as his reputation might be, it wouldn’t do to have his reading choice known.

  Billy arrived as Eli donned his cloak.

  “Mr. Ashfield, sir. I got the mail like you asked. Maybe some of these are orders? I could help you fill them, sir. I promise I can do it.”

  The boy was eager for work. And Eli wanted to honor that. He knew that most citizens who remained in the city were struggling to feed themselves and their families. Life was only easy for a chosen few, the few he intended to join. He longed to forget about days of going hungry so his mother could eat and later being watched closely by his relatives, suspected of stealing and every other immoral behavior his aunt and uncle could imagine.

  “Perhaps later. I intend to take a walk first. Tidy the store while I’m out, and when I return we’ll see about other work that needs to be done.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, and Billy?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did you leave the door open when you left earlier?”

  Billy’s eyes widened, and he shook his head vigorously. “No, sir. I closed it. I’m certain.”

  “I had a visitor. She told me the door was open. Perhaps it simply didn’t latch.”

  “No, sir, that couldn’t be it. When I closed it, I checked. It was closed tight, and I even put the sign in the window so no one would bother you while you worked, sir.”

  Eli glanced at the door. The sign had been lying on a shelf, and he’d hung it when he’d seen Mrs. Sullivan out. “That is interesting.”

  “Please believe me, sir.”

  Billy would likely say anything to keep from facing Eli’s displeasure, yet Eli didn’t doubt his words. Nothing about his posture or expression indicated he was lying, and Eli had learned to watch very closely for such signs. His cousins enjoyed blaming him for their own misdeeds. He would always remember exactly what they looked like as they lied.

  It seemed far more likely that Mrs. Sullivan had tried the door, found it unlocked, and let herself in. The question was why. What would make her so desperate to see him right away? She couldn’t need a work on electricity that urgently. And while Eli might flatter himself on occasion that he was highly desirable to women—and men—he knew better than to think Mrs. Sullivan would work that hard to make his acquaintance.

  Did she know about his writing? She may have been married to a staunch loyalist, but she hardly seemed the zealous type, nor did she seem fond of her husband. He couldn’t imagine her piously pointing the finger at those who dared go against king’s orders. What was her game?

  “One more thing, Billy.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “A woman came by yesterday afternoon and asked for Experiments and Observations on Electricity. Do you remember her?”

  “Yes, I checked in the back and found a copy, but she said she would come back today to purchase it.”

  “She did. Thank you.” She’d lied about what Billy had told her and about the door. Mrs. Sullivan bore close watching.

  Socially taboo or not, he would write her that evening. If she was a danger to him, he had to know. No one was going to keep him from succeeding with the bookstore or with bringing his family’s loyalist cause to an end.

  The uncertainty about Mrs. Sullivan made Eli restless. He walked the length of the city and back, noting that there were more ships in the harbor than the day before. What were the British planning? How easy would it be for him to find out? Surely the rebels had scouts seeking this information. Writing was the best way he could help the cause. Giving more people reasons to turn against the king would gain soldiers for the army.

  When he was across the street from the shop where his essays were secretly published by the printer of one of the city’s foremost loyalist papers, he saw Mrs. Sullivan preparing to exit the building. What was her business there? Placing an advertisement perhaps? A reasonable explanation, but she could have sent a servant to take care of it.

  Eli stepped into a side street and pretended to consider the goods in a tailor’s window. As keen as he was to become better acquainted with Mrs. Sullivan, this wasn’t the proper time. Delivering a book to the printer was an excellent excuse for his being there, but until he knew Mrs. Sullivan’s motives, he would rather not let her know he had any connection to the shop.

  When Mrs. Sullivan had retreated in the direction of her residence, Eli crossed the street. To all peering eyes, the shop was a respectable loyalist press. Mr. Rivington, the owner, was a vocal supporter of the king and had even been a target of rebel attacks before the British drove Washington’s army from the city.

  He knocked at the door, and Rivington bade him enter.

  “Mr. Ashfield, it’s good to see you.” He appeared to be setting type for the midday paper.

  Eli glanced around, wondering who else was in the shop. “I am your humble servant, sir. I have brought a book for you.”

  “Excellent. If you would place it on my desk, I’d be most obliged.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Eli entered the owner’s office, but rather than actually placing his essay on the desk, he removed a floorboard and placed it in the hiding place he and the other patriot writers used.

  When he returned to the main room, Eli said, “The woman who just left looked very familiar. I believe she may have visited my uncle’s estate when I still lived there.”

  Rivington nodded. “That’s General Thomas Sullivan’s widow. He was well acquainted with your uncle.”

  “Ah, then perhaps I did see her
there.”

  “She’s an excellent hostess from what I’ve heard, and she’s been most kind to His Majesty’s soldiers, inviting several of them to stay in her home and bringing food and blankets to many who were sick earlier this winter.”

  Eli had already been aware of all this. He was attempting to contrive a way of asking what her business with the printer had been when the door opened and one of the man’s apprentices entered.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long, sir,” the young man said to Rivington.

  “Were you successful at least?”

  “Yes, I purchased all the ink I could find.”

  “Thank goodness for that.” Rivington turned to Eli. “I would love to take a cup of tea with you, Ashfield, but I’m afraid I’m very busy. I have only one apprentice to help me today. The rest of my staff are out on business.”

  Eli bowed. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your work.”

  Rivington might have shared more about Mrs. Sullivan if they’d been alone, but he would never do so now, even if Eli stayed.

  “Have a good day, sir.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the delivery.”

  ***

  When Eli arrived back at his shop, Billy was shelving books.

  “If you need to look over orders, sir, I could greet customers. If they require your help, I’ll alert you.”

  Eli hesitated, then sighed. He would like to pen a letter to Mrs. Sullivan right away, but he’d only let Billy mind the store briefly when he absolutely had to be away. Billy could barely read, though he and Eli were working on that, and his ragged appearance was not the image Eli wanted out front for his store. He studied the boy for a few seconds before an idea occurred to him. “Come with me.”

  “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

  “Not at all, but if you’re going to continue to work out front, you need some different clothes.”

  “These are all I have, sir. My mother can’t—”

  Eli held up his hand. “We’re close to the same size. I may have something for you.”