Chapter Three

A lec squinted at the type he'd just set. Damn it. This was the third mistake he'd caught today. As he removed the offending letter and placed the correct one in, he blew out an exasperated breath. Ever since Lydia Fennell had returned to Wilmington for the winter, his brain had been operating on two fronts: his work with the men and women pushing to get out from under Britain's tyranny, and the almost constant thoughts of Liddy.

Once he was as positive as he could be that the type was properly set and secured, the next step was to layer the ink across the type. Alec wiped away the extra ink that might leave smudges, secured the paper, and folded it over the type before sliding the platen beneath the press. He pulled the devil's tail, the lever that applied pressure to the paper and ensured the transfer of the ink, before sliding the platen back out to check his work. He smiled after finding that this time he had fixed any mistakes.

He was ready to print the paper that would reveal the colonial governor's attempts to recruit loyalists to the Crown. Alec was sure they had their eyes on Wilmington. Far too many independent-minded people were in the area, Liddy's father being an exception. Word was beginning to circulate about the possibility of some kind of skirmish, but Alec wasn't ready to put that into print until he had more confirmation of its truth.

"Asher?" Alec called toward the front of the store. "I need your help, lad. I have everything ready, and the printing will go faster if we share the work."

Asher was a younger son of a fisherman with more children than he knew what to do with. Alec had taken the lad on as an apprentice after his father told him the boy was strong of mind and back, but was violently seasick every time he even looked at a boat.

As far as Alec was concerned, it was a match made in heaven. The boy had a love for reading and a good head on his shoulders. He could be trusted to carry messages and was fast becoming a trusted courier of information for colonials hoping to push King George's rule out of the Carolinas.

At the moment, though, Alec needed to get this printing done so he could clean the ink from his hands and his person. It wouldn't do to show up in costume at the night's masked ball if his ink-stained fingers gave away his identity straight away.

He hoped he might be able to steal Liddy away for a few moments, have some opportunity for a more intimate conversation with her. Always when they met in the store, her friend, Phoebe was in attendance. True, Phoebe kept discreetly on the other side of the store, but Alec had hopes for more.

Each time he gazed into Liddy's gray-green eyes he wanted nothing more than to touch her cheek, tilt her chin, and kiss her sweet lips. Alec was sure he was not imagining similar feelings on her side. Perhaps tonight he would be able to test that theory.

But not if he didn't finish printing his broadsheets.

"Asher!"

"Coming, Alec. I was helping old Mrs. Dare out with her purchases." Asher ducked through the doorway. In his middle-teen years, he had hit a growth spurt that made him almost as tall as Alec. "Do you want me to apply the ink or set the paper?"

"I'll apply the ink and wipe the extra. You change the paper." Alec used a larger ink bulb for the broadsheet than he did when printing pamphlets. It needed careful handling so as not to flood the set type with too much ink. While Asher was a fast learner, today they needed to work as quickly as possible.

They worked together enough that in fairly short order they had established a rhythm allowing them to work at speed.

"You know, Alec," Asher said as he set another sheet to one side to dry before putting in the next piece of paper, "I have heard tell of some printing presses that might be made entirely of iron."

Alec nodded. "That would sure make them sturdier, likely faster too. But I doubt a small shop like mine would be able to afford such a thing. For right now, at least, I believe we're stuck with what we have."

Asher eyed the heavy wooden machine. "I have learned much from you and this press. You can be sure I'll care for it, so it will last for a while yet."

Alec grinned. "It's the same one I learned on. Let's hope it will last long enough to get you trained too."

With the two of them working, they were able to print about one hundred of the broadsheets per hour. When they finished, Alec wiped the ink from his hands before picking up a bottle of oil he used as a solvent to remove some of the remaining stain. He glanced at Asher who was stacking the papers.

"I'm closing a bit early tonight. I've a party to go to. Are you clear on where to take the copies south from here?"

"Aye. My brother will meet me on the other side of the river. We'll go from there."

Alec nodded. "Thank you, lad. Be careful."

"I always am, sir. I've enough family scattered around these parts, it's easy enough to find shelter should I need it."

"Well then, I wish you a hot meal and a warm bed for the night."

Asher smiled. "I wish you good fortune with your young lady."

*

It was just an hour or so after sunset when partygoers began to arrive at the Baker-White home both by foot and by carriage. Alec waited in the shadows of a twisted live oak tree, its branches trailing wisps of Spanish moss. Torches lighted the way along the path to the stairs that led to the first floor of the palatial white home. Like many finer homes in this area, it was built with a raised basement. It served to keep the house dry during the sometimes-vicious storms that roared ashore so close to the ocean, and—combined with floor to ceiling windows—allowed those who lived there to take full advantage of any breeze shifting through the humid heat of summer. Now the basement served as a staging area for servants transporting food and drink from the kitchen, built separately from the stately house.

The Baker-Whites were well above Alec's station in Wilmington society. The only thing that had secured him an invitation was the favor of his former guardian and the independence-minded thinking of the current Baker-White patriarch. Were Alec to hazard a guess, it would be that Mr. Baker-White would do anything in his power to vex the current royal governor of North Carolina, Josiah Martin. In that, Baker-White and Alec were in perfect agreement.

He waited until a larger group of revelers approached the house on foot before stepping in behind them. He was doing his best to slip in unobtrusively. Alec was sure he'd also done his best in relieving his hands of any remaining ink, just as he had done to match the always-fastidious Liddy when it came to his dress for tonight's party.

The one problem he had was that while he had told her how she would recognize him, he had not extracted similar information from her. The distraction of her presence had played havoc with his normally clear head.

"Good evening, sir," the butler greeted him as he entered the spacious front hall. Alec nodded but refrained from speaking. Joseph Berryman was a frequent customer at his shop as well as a fellow member of the militia. Joseph directed him to the parlor, but guests were also spilling onto the wraparound porches and even into the gardens.

How on earth was he ever to find Liddy among all these costumed guests?

At a soft tap on his sleeve, Alec turned. Her eyes were more green than gray in the light of the candles twinkling in the chandelier overhead, but they were nevertheless unmistakable. For a moment, he felt as if the noise faded away, leaving them as the only two people standing there.

"You came." Her voice was so soft he had to lean closer to hear her.

"Nothing would have kept me from it." He covered her gloved hand with his, wishing the silky cloth wasn't there. He gazed at the sleek lines of her gown. "I daresay your father has not seen your costume, lovely as it is."

Beneath the silver glitter of her mask, her full lips stretched into a smile that revealed a dimple Alec found suddenly as fascinating as the daring neckline of her dress. She laughed.

"A business matter kept him late at the house, and he instructed me to go on without him. Alas, I find myself without a male escort at the moment."

"Then it would give me the greatest of pleasure if you would allow me to fill that position."

She dipped into a shallow curtsy, affording him an even lovelier view of her bosom. Good God. How was he to remain a gentleman when it was obvious she had set out to be the coquette this night? Alec tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. "I believe that dancing is to start shortly in the front garden. Would you like to take a turn around the porch before we head in that direction?"

"I would, sir."

They were careful not to use each other's names. While it added to the mystery of the evening, Alec knew it was also of necessity. There was no way her father would ever approve of this. But heaven help him, Alec did not have the strength to stay away from Liddy Fennell. She was beautiful and bright in mind and body, everything he ever hoped to find. Yet, how could he ask her to step down to his level? Yes, he was a successful businessman, but not anywhere in the league of her father. As Amos Fennell's only child, Liddy would be a rich young woman in her own right.

"Don't frown so," she whispered. "It makes you look quite fierce. Are you angry?"

He covered her hand again, giving it a light squeeze. "Not at all."

"Let us go down to the gardens. I know a place where we might talk without being disturbed."