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adult conversation.
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    Alexander woke the next morning with a pain in his jaw from having ground his teeth all night. Even asleep he felt his anger. Standing there on the dock yesterday, worried about whether his shoulder would start bleeding again, looking out across the people and seeing the English soldiers on their lathered horses—soldiers who were obviously looking for someone—and then having to see that brat Jessica Taggert laughing at him was almost more than he could bear. How easily the townspeople had believed him to be the coward Jessica said he was. How quickly they forgot what he’d been.
    He’d gone to his father’s house and already word of him had spread. Marianna had her head on her father’s bed and was crying noisily. Sayer merely looked at his son and waved his arm to dismiss Alexander, as if the sight of his youngest child disgusted him too much to speak.
    Alexander was too weak from the loss of blood, too angry about what had happened on the dock to attempt to defend himself. He followed Nicholas out of the room and went to his own where he fell onto the bed.
    Even the sight of Nicholas Ivanovitch, Grand Duke of Russia, carrying in his luggage didn’t cheer him. He drifted into a half sleep in which he dreamed of strangling Jessica Taggert. But then part of the dream had him making mad love to her. When had she grown so damned pretty? The horror of being taunted by a beautiful woman gave him very little peace.
    Now, his head hurting, his shoulder throbbing, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Part of his brain, the tiny part that wasn’t absolutely furious, was beginning to function. Maybe the fact that they all believed his disguise was to his advantage. He’d seen what was going on in New Sussex, the way the English soldiers ruled the town. He’d heard of the atrocities committed against the Americans as they were treated like bad children. He’d even seen the prices for goods that in England sold for half as much—yet they were goods shipped on American ships.
    Perhaps some of that was going on in Warbrooke.
    On first wakening, he’d wanted to call Marianna and show her his wound and tell her about his being the Raider. He knew his sister would help him while he recovered, would protect him from the wrath of the English. And how he’d like to see her face when she saw that he wasn’t the fat drunkard she thought him to be! But now he realized that he’d be putting her life in danger.
    He turned when a sleepy-eyed Nick came into the room and sat down heavily in a chair. “That woman got me up before daylight and had me cutting wood,” he said morosely and with some wonder in his voice. “It was due only to my keen observation of my own workers that I had any idea of what to do. That woman is not very tolerant of even the slightest hesitation, though.”
    â€œJessica?” Alexander questioned, his voice little more than a sneer. Just the thought of that woman made his hands ache to put them around her pretty white throat.
    â€œThe other one. Eleanor.” Nick hung his head in his hands.
    Alex had seen examples of Nick’s moods before and he knew that the best thing was to not allow him to continue feeling sorry for himself. He managed to sit up in bed, the sheet falling away from his strong broad shoulders, exposing the bandage.
    â€œI don’t think I should let anyone know that I’m not as I appear,” Alex began. “I think I’ll remain in my peacock clothes until my shoulder has healed and until the interest in the Raider has died down. Could you spare me a servant? Someone discreet who isn’t afraid of a little danger?”
    Nick’s head came up sharply. “All my men are Russians and no Russian is afraid of anything. Are you planning to be the Raider again?”
    â€œPossibly.” The only thought he had in his head right now was of paying