{"id":1004,"date":"2019-02-08T13:09:33","date_gmt":"2019-02-08T18:09:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1004"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:06:54","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:06:54","slug":"a-hearts-revolution","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/a-hearts-revolution\/","title":{"rendered":"A Heart\u2019s Revolution"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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A Heart\u2019s Revolution<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

\n\nby Roseanna M. White<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1783 peace has been declared, but war still rages in the heart of Lark Benton.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Never did Lark think she\u2019d want to escape Emerson Fielding, the man she\u2019s loved all her life. But when he betrays her, she flees Williamsburg for Annapolis, taking refuge in the nation\u2019s temporary capital. There Lark throws herself into a new circle of friends who force her to examine all she believes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emerson follows, determined to reclaim his betrothed. Surprised when she refuses to return with him, he realizes that in this new nation he has come to call his own, duty is no longer enough. He must learn to open his heart and soul to something greater\u2014before he loses all he should have been fighting to hold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(Previously published as Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland<\/a>)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Endover Plantation, outside\nWilliamsburg, Virginia <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

25 November 1783 <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps if Lark recited the\npirate\u2019s code it would steal his attention. She could try standing on her head.\nOr if those options failed\u2014as surely they would\u2014she could throw herself to the\nfloor before him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Except\nEmerson Fielding was as likely to mistake her for a rug as to realize he ought\nto help her up. Lark indulged in a long sigh and cast her gaze out the window.\nThe plantation lay dormant and brown. Most days saw Papa and Wiley in\nWilliamsburg, swapping stories at R. Charlton\u2019s Coffeehouse. Emerson usually\nmet them there, which was why this was the first she\u2019d seen him in a month.\nHeaven knew he wanted only to see them<\/em>, never her<\/em>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nwished her heart hadn\u2019t fluttered when he entered the room. Wished the\ndisappointment hadn\u2019t followed so quickly when he barely glanced her way.\nWished she had the courage to command his attention\u2026and he the sense to give it\nwithout her command. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life would\nbe so much easier if she weren\u2019t in love with Emer\u00adson Fielding. But what young\nlady wouldn\u2019t be captivated by those dark eyes, the strong features, the height\nthat left him towering above other men?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today\nhis hair was unpowdered and gleamed sable. He was in undress, his coat the\ncommon one he wore every day, unlike what he was sure to don for her birthday\ndinner that evening. His smile lit up his eyes, his laugh lit up the room. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neither\none did he direct toward her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lark\u2019s\ngaze flicked down to the emerald on her finger. Two years. Twenty-four months.\nSeven hundred thirty interminable days. Not that she was keeping account. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHendricks\nought to be at the coffeehouse about now,\u201d her brother said, standing. He\ntugged his waistcoat into place and tightened the band around his hair. \u201cWe\nhave just enough time for a cup of chocolate with him.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nwould not sigh again, it would be redundant. Why protest the usual, even if\ntoday was supposed to be distinctive? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As if\nreading her mind, Wiley flashed a twinkling gaze her way and grinned. \u201cOf\ncourse, you will want to wish my dear sister happy returns before we head out,\nEmerson. I shall go fetch my overcoat and hat while you do so.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For the\nfirst time in the two hours he had been there, Emerson looked her way. And like\nevery time he looked her way, she wished she had more to offer his gaze.\nPerhaps if she shared the golden-haired beauty of her mother and sister, his\neyes mightn\u2019t go empty upon spot\u00adting her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nsmiled the practiced smile gentlemen were taught to wear in company, not the\nearnest one he shared with her brother. \u201cAre you hav\u00ading a pleasant birthday,\ndarling?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

An\nunexpected wave of anger crashed over her. \u201cDo you never tire of using\nendearments you don\u2019t mean?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well,\nthat earned a spark in his eyes. Not exactly one of delight or affection,\nthough. \u201cI take it you are not <\/em>having a pleasant day. Well, perhaps I\ncan brighten it.\u201d He reached into his pocket, pulled out a box covered in a\nscrap of printed calico. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\ncould manage no enthusiasm for what was sure to be another gift of jewels. He\nnever seemed to grasp that she wanted no more things<\/em>. She wanted his\nlove\u2014something he was either unwilling or incapable of giving. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His\nsmile was right, teasing. But no secret knowledge nested in his expression.\n\u201cOpen it and see.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nhaven\u2019t any idea, have you?\u201d She shook her head and looked out the window again\nas he strode toward her chair. His mother had undoubtedly foisted it upon him\nas he left, otherwise he wouldn\u2019t have remembered what the date signified. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\noften wondered if his mother had also foisted that first gift of jewels upon\nhim two years before. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His\nbreath hissed out. \u201cOf course I know what it is, but you shan\u2019t cajole it out\nof me. You will have to open it yourself to see.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nwrapped box appeared under her nose. She took it, careful to avoid brushing his\noutstretched palm with her fingers. It would only make awareness shiver up her\narm, an unnecessary reminder of her unrequited attachment. Once she held it,\nthough, she made no move to untie the ribbon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emerson\nshifted, impatience coming off him in waves. \u201cOpen it, Lark.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nshook herself. \u201cBut of course. I am certain you wish to hasten to your coffee\nand conversation. What will the topic be today? Con\u00adgresses, constitutions, or\ncrop rotations?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wiley\nwould have appreciated the alliteration. Emerson greeted it with a rudely\narched brow. Tempted to return the insult and roll her eyes, she tugged at the\nbow. Unfolded the cloth. Lifted the lid of the small wooden box. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lessons in\npropriety had never covered how to handle a surprise like this. Lark gasped. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emerson\nmuttered a curse that proved he not only knew not what present lay inside, he\ndisapproved of his mother\u2019s selection. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nleapt to her feet and shoved the glittering diamond necklace into his stomach.\n\u201cAbsolutely not. I cannot accept that.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His hand\ncaught the box, but a war to rival the Revolution charged across his face. He\nwanted to take the jewels back, without question. But pride would not allow\nhim. He held out the box. \u201cDon\u2019t be ridicu\u00adlous. I want you to have it.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

An\nunladylike snort nearly slipped out. \u201cYes, that was apparent from your\nreaction. I will not, Emerson. Your sisters have told me of this necklace, and\nI shan\u2019t accept the most valuable possession in the Fielding family\u2014especially\nwhen it becomes increasingly clear I will never be a member of said family<\/a>.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thunder\ndarkened his complexion. \u201cWhat madness is this? You are my betrothed, and you\nwill accept the gifts I give you.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nemerald on her left hand felt heavy. \u201cPerhaps what I ought to do is return the\nones you have already given. They are naught but mockery.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nreached for the clasp of the bracelet that matched the ring. Her breath caught\nwhen his fingers closed around her wrist. He all but growled. \u201cYou will do no\nsuch thing.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPrithee,\nwhy not?\u201d Though she struggled to pull free, he held tight to her arm. \u201c \u2019Tis\nobvious you\u2019ve no desire to make me your wife. For two years you have dodged\nevery mention of nuptials, making a fool of me in front of our families and\nfriends. For the life of me, I know not why you ever proposed. Release me.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shook\nhis head. \u201cCalm yourself, Lark. Is that what this is about? The blasted wedding\ndate? Deuces, I would agree to any date you want, if you would just be\nreasonable!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have\nhad my fill of reason. I want a morsel of your regard, and I will not marry you\nwithout it.\u201d She gave one more vain tug against his fingers. \u201cI tire of being\nalone at your side, Emerson. I cannot subject myself to a lifetime of it.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through\nthe tears burning her eyes, she saw his face harden, then relax. His grip\neased, but he did not release her wrist. Simply pulled it down and then held\nher hand. The warmth that seeped into her palm belied the cool words she had\nspoken. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet his\nsmile was no more than it had ever been. \u201cI have been remiss, darling, and I\napologize. I assure you, you are my chosen bride. It has simply been a struggle\nto readjust to social life. After Yorktown\u2026\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anger\nsnapped at her heels again, largely because of the compas\u00adsion he called up\nwith the mere mention of Yorktown. How could anyone\u2014man, woman, or child\u2014argue\nwith one who had been at the dreadful battle? The moment a soldier uttered that\nword, all arguments necessarily ceased. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In this\nparticular case she could not help but think he used it for that very purpose.\n\u201cEmerson\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI shall\nmake it up to you. Let us set a date this moment, and I will be the figure of\ndevotion.\u201d The idea seemed to pain him\u2014his smile turned to a grimace. For a man\nwith a reputation as a charmer, he did a remarkable job of dashing her heart to\npieces. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nsucked in a long breath. \u201cI shan\u2019t hold you to the engagement. If you\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot\nanother word of such nonsense. Let us say the first Sunday in March, shall we?\nThe worst of the winter weather ought to be over by then. We can announce it to\nour parents this evening.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\nshould have brought joy instead of defeat. It should have lit hope instead of\ndespair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\npressed the necklace back into her hands. \u201cTake it, my darling. Wear it on our\nwedding day.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before\nshe could decide whether to relent or argue, he pressed a kiss to her fingers\nand fled the room as if the hounds of Hades nipped at his heels. Lark sank back\ninto her chair and flipped open the box so she could stare at the large,\nperfect gems resting within. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why did\nthe thought of marrying her light such fires of panic under him? Lark rested\nher cheek against her palm and let her tears come. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nshould have tried the pirate\u2019s code. <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n

Emerson scraped the tavern chair\nacross the wooden floor, fell onto its hard seat, and, for the first time in\nhis memory, wished Wiley Ben\u00adton would hold his tongue for five blasted\nminutes. He barely saw the familiar whitewashed walls, the wainscoting, the\nmultitude of friendly faces. His mind still reeled, wrestling with images of\nthose blinding diamonds\u2014and the equally blinding tears in Lark\u2019s eyes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

What had\nMother been thinking, blithely handing off the most valuable Fielding\npossessions? The diamonds\u2014to Lark. It was beyond fathoming. They would\noverwhelm her. Eclipse rather than comple\u00adment. And to have them abiding\noutside Fielding Hall for the next several months\u2026 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still,\nhe should not have lost his head. Then she wouldn\u2019t have lost hers, and he\nwouldn\u2019t have talked himself straight into a trap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\ncan I bring you gentlemen today?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nlooked up at the tavern\u2019s owner but couldn\u2019t dredge up a smile. No matter\u2014Wiley\nwould smile enough for the both of them. \u201cChoco\u00adlate,\u201d his friend said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMake\nmine coffee, if you please, sir.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat I\nwill. And I shall direct Hendricks your way. He and the governor are chatting\nin the back corner.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn a\nfew moments,\u201d Emerson answered before Wiley could supply what was sure to be\nthankful acceptance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the\nproprietor stalked off, Wiley lifted his brows in that par\u00adticular way that\nbespoke both humor and confusion. \u201cWhat plagues you, man? You have been playing\nthe dunderhead ever since we left Endover.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nplayed it while there too.\u201d Indulging in a mild oath, he swept his tricorn off\nhis head and plopped it onto the table between them. \u201cI upset your sister.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLark?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\nyour other sister was hardly there to be upset.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wiley\ntook his hat off as well, his confusion plain on his face. \u201cBut Lark is so rarely\nin an ill temper. She especially shouldn\u2019t have been, given the good news of\nour cousin\u2019s delayed arrival.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Under\nnormal circumstances, Emerson would have been amused at his friend\u2019s perpetual\ndislike of the family soon arriving from Phila\u00addelphia. At this moment he gave\nnot a fig who was coming or when. \u201cApparently all it takes is overreacting when\none sees one\u2019s mother wrapped up the family diamonds for her.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wiley\nlooked near to choking. \u201cThe ones your father goes ever on about? That had\nbelonged to the countess?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe\nvery ones.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wiley\nlet out a muted whistle. \u201cI cannot conceive she accepted them. Especially if\nyou seemed opposed.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI had\nalready insisted I knew what the gift was, though I did not. Then rather than\nreturning just the diamonds, she grew angry and made to return all <\/em>the\nFielding jewels.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wiley\u2019s\neyes widened, and he leaned over the table. \u201cWhat did you say to her?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emerson\nwaved him off. \u201cIt hardly matters. I smoothed matters over, and we decided on a\nwedding date. The first Sunday of March.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead\nof seeming satisfied, Wiley\u2019s gaze went probing, and then accusing. \u201cSo simply?\nAfter shifting the topic away from the wed\u00adding each time my parents mentioned\nit the past two years? Frankly, Emerson, we have all doubted your intentions of\nmaking good on your promise.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf\ncourse I intend to make good on it.\u201d It was an advantageous match all round.\nThe Bentons were a wealthy, respected family, per\u00adfectly equal to the\nFieldings. Lark herself would make an excellent wife. She was well bred, well\ntaught, not homely\u2014if not as lovely as her sister, who was now Mrs. Hendricks.\nSweet of temperament\u2014today aside. He liked her well enough and expected he\nwould come to love her in a decade or so, once they had a brood of children\nbetween them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And she\nloved him, as his own sisters had pointed out two years ago. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wiley\nnarrowed his eyes. \u201cEmerson, you know I would welcome you eagerly into our\nfamily, but I confess the longer this drags out, the more misgivings I have.\nYou treat my sister no differently now than you did when she was a child,\ndogging your heels and sending us up a tree to escape her.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps\nthat was the problem. She still seemed twelve to him, as she had been when he\u2019d\nreturned from England to fight for freedom from it. She still looked at him\nwith the same blind adoration, still sat silently by whenever he was near. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\nwould change once they were wed though, surely. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEmerson.\u201d\nWiley\u2019s tone had turned hard, though barely more than a murmur. \u201cI will see my\nsister happy. If you still dream of Eliza\u00adbeth, if you cannot love Lark, then\nrelease her from the betrothal and let her find someone who can.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The name\nsnapped his spine straight. Fight as he might against it, the image nonetheless\nsurfaced of a woman as opposite Lark as one could find. Did he dream of her?\nOnly in his worst nightmares. \u201cRest assured your sister is loved.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His\nfriend\u2019s eyes narrowed. \u201cIf I did not know better, I would call that a cunning\nevasion. Loved she is. But I would have her loved by you<\/em>.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As would\nhe. He could manage it, assuredly. He simply must put his mind to it, as he had\nto Newton\u2019s Principia Mathematica <\/em>back at King William\u2019s School. \u201cYou\nhave no reason to fear for your sister\u2019s heart, Wiley. I will be a good\nhusband.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In three\nshort months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nlook more frightened than when we saw our first Redcoats advancing, muskets at\nthe ready.\u201d Amusement laced its way through the frustration in Wiley\u2019s tone. \u201cI\nwould have many a laugh over this were it not my favorite sister that made you\nwince so.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI am\nnot wincing.\u201d Much. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBenton,\nFielding! There you are.\u201d Hendricks\u2019s voice came from the corner of the room,\nwhere the man had stood and waved a greeting to them. \u201cI shall join you in a\nmoment.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\nawait you eagerly,\u201d Wiley replied with his usual grin. When he turned back around,\nit shifted and hardened into the expression few knew. But Emerson did, from the\nfield of battle. It was the look that had always appeared on his friend\u2019s face\nmoments before he let out a war cry and charged into the thick of things. \u201cIf\nyou hurt Lark,\u201d he murmured so quietly Emerson could barely hear him, \u201cI will\nkill you\u2014or make you wish I had.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know\nyou would. \u2019Tis not at issue.\u201d Twenty-five years of friend\u00adship had not been\nthreatened by competition, an ocean\u2019s distance, or the ravages of war. He would\nnot allow it to be distressed by one small, unassuming woman.<\/p>\n\n\n