Understanding Mercy Page 7

  He looked down at his pocket watch with both hands pointing straight up, glanced at the noonday sun above him and groaned. Boston’s infamous August humidity hung in the air like a heavy cloak. He wiped perspiration from his brow as he walked toward the tailor’s shop for the final fitting of his ludicrous costume for this ridiculous ball.

  The silly French tailor had insisted he wear a pale pink embroidered silk jacket, but Addison had adamantly refused.

  What man wore pink?

  Addison compromised that the material could be shiny silk and embroidered but had insisted the color be black. The tailor had groaned and refused to make something so out of fashion. He’d compromised again with cream but absolutely no pink.

  As he walked into the shop, the tailor’s pretty little black-haired daughter sashayed over to him. “Oh, Monsieur Berkeley, I’ve looked forward to seeing how handsome you’ll look in your new suit.”

  “Well, it appears you won’t have to wait much longer. Where is it? I would like to try it on and get this over with.” He didn’t want to sound rude, but he had appointments all afternoon and didn’t care to encourage the attentions of this flirtatious girl.

  He was no longer on a ship willing to oblige the anonymous females looking for adventure on the high seas. Now he wanted to be a respectable business man. He now lived in this city of eighteen thousand people and didn’t want to be running into past conquests on a daily basis.

  The little, bony man appeared from a back room holding up the elaborate suit with pride. “ Très magnifique . You’ll look astonishing. A powerful man such as you should wear a suit fit for a prince—”

  He lifted a hand to stop the man. “There’s no need to flatter me. I already paid for the suit. Let me try it on, and then I can get out of your way.”

  Several minutes later, he stood gazing at himself in the mirror. The elegant coat clung to his body with the back of it hanging to his knees. The open front of the coat exposed the tight breeches, making him terribly uncomfortable. With all the shiny cream fabric elaborately decorated with silver thread, he looked as if he belonged in the court of the French King Louis the XVI. It was just too much, but he didn’t have time for a new suit to be made.

  The tailor’s daughter wandered into his dressing room, and her dark eyes roamed his body. “It fits like a glove,” the young girl purred as she stepped closer and gazed at him adoringly.

  “A tight glove,” he mumbled with dismay. Every part of his body seemed to be bursting at the seams.

  “Yes, a tight glove that showcases the glory of the man underneath. All your years as a pirate made you strong,” she gushed, as she ran her hand provocatively across his chest.

  Stepping away, he declared, “I was never a pirate. Where did you hear such a thing?”

  “Everyone knows,” she replied looking hurt.

  He softened his tone as he corrected her. “Well, everyone is wrong.” It frustrated him that the unscrupulous could spread lies, and the gullible believed them as if they were fact.

  He wanted to leave, but he needed to give credit where it was due. The suit was not his taste, but he had to admit that the workmanship was impressive. He stepped into the next room and found the tailor. “You truly are a talented man. Thank you for the suit. I’ll change now and be on my way.”

  The man glowed with pride. “Come again when we can be of service to you.”

  “I will.” Several minutes later, he left the shop with the huge box holding his carefully folded suit. His stomach tightened at the thought of attending this ball of Hancock’s. If he didn’t like the man so much, he would never go. He’d stared down the cannons of enemy ships and didn’t feel as much fear and apprehension as the thought of putting on this suit and pretending to fit in with people who didn’t want him in their midst.

  As he kicked at a pebble in the pathway, he wished it wasn’t so blasted hot and sticky. He’d forgotten how miserable Boston summers were. Suddenly, a shop door swung open, and he stopped abruptly to keep from plowing over two females who walked into his path.

  “My word,” Mercy declared with a smile, “It appears both of us are reckless walkers and narrowly escaped a dangerous collision.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Creed. All of my focus was on a pebble. I must admit it’s a nice surprise however to look up from a little rock and see your pretty face instead.”

  That same delightful pink color stained her cheeks, and she glanced at her mother who he’d forgotten stood next to her. Embarrassed, he bowed and said, “We haven’t met, Mrs. Creed. I’m Addison Berkeley.”

  She seemed speechless for several moments but finally managed, “Yes, Mr. Berkeley. From your description, I knew this must be you. But I have to admit, I wasn’t aware you had met my daughter.”

  “Is that so?” He glanced at Mercy with a teasing smile. “Were you keeping me a secret, Miss Creed?”

  A look of panic and guilt flashed in her eyes which confused him. He’d only been teasing.

  Looking horribly flustered, she said, “I only met Mr. Berkeley once, and I forgot to mention it to you.”

  So apparently he hadn’t made the same impression on her that she’d made on him.

  She pointed to his box and asked, “I see you have been out shopping. Did you get a new suit?”

  “Yes, I did. I needed one for the Governor’s Ball tomorrow night. But I must admit, I think I look ridiculous in it. Too much fancy silk and embroidery for a simple man like me.”

  “We are going to the Governor’s Ball as well.”

  “I thought you might. I hoped I’d see you there.” He watched her cheeks turn pink again. It tickled him. “I’d ask you for a dance, but I don’t know how to dance. So to save your toes, I’ll spare you.”

  Mercy looked at him as if he’d just sprouted horns. “You don’t know how to dance?”

  “No,” he answered with a casual shrug. “I never took the time to learn. Maybe someday I will.”

  “Dancing is fun. You should learn.”

  Her little face looked so earnest that he couldn’t hide his smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. And if I learn, will you promise me a dance someday?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Then it’s settled. I will learn.” He glanced at her mother who stared at him questioningly. He knew he needed to stop flirting with Mercy, so he looked at the little package in her hand and asked, “I can see you are out shopping today as well.”

  “Yes, we just picked up some trimmings to sew onto one of my gowns.”

  He wondered why she only bought trimmings instead of a new gown. He was certain every female attending the Governor’s Ball would want to be arrayed in the latest fashion. Her father must still be in a financial slump. He wished he could buy Mercy a new dress. A dress fit for a princess. But it didn’t matter what she wore. She could dress in a burlap sack and still be the prettiest girl around.

  With enthusiasm, she pulled out some lace and silk flowers. Holding them up proudly, she said, “See. Aren’t these pretty?”

  With amusement, he glanced down at the bobbles and bows in her hand. “Yes, they are pretty, and they will be prettier still on you.” With a gentlemanly bow, he tipped his hat and said gallantly, “Good day, ladies. Until tomorrow night.”

  He quickly walked away and resisted the urge to turn and look at her again. Part of him had hoped Mercy would be at the ball but part of him hoped she wouldn’t. Being around her was like putting a mouthwatering meal in front of a starving man and saying, “Don’t touch.”

  But the thought of not being around her made life seem dull and tedious. Mercy was sweetness personified, but he had to remind himself that she was a sweetness a man like him didn’t deserve.

  He glanced at his roughened hands, thinking of all they’d experienced in this difficult world. Mercy was too pure for a man like him—too young, innocent and untouched. He needed to stay rooted to the ground. Not thinking of reaching to the stars.

  ****

  Mrs. Creed stared
at Mercy with a shocked expression which melted into a sly smile. “I heard Addison Berkeley was handsome and charming, but gracious, I had no idea.” She fanned herself. “Why did you never tell me that you met him?”

  “It slipped my mind.”

  “How could a man like that slip your mind?”

  “Really mother. He has enough women panting after him. He doesn’t need you added to the list.”

  She laughed, embarrassed. “I wasn’t panting, just admiring.” Tapping Mercy’s arm with her fan, she asked, “Did you notice the way he looks at you? I think he might be smitten with you, Mercy.”

  “Don’t be silly. And anyway, I’m not smitten with him. He’s a cold-hearted man and a rake.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know he is cold-hearted because he doesn’t care that he’s ruining Daddy’s business, and everyone knows he’s a rake.”

  “What makes you think he’s ruining your father’s business?”

  “I heard daddy mention that Mr. Berkeley’s successful business is cutting into his.”

  “Hmmm. I know your father’s business isn’t doing well right now, but I don’t think your father would lay the full blame of that upon Mr. Berkeley’s success.” A slight frown pulled her brows together. “And how do you know the man is a rake?”

  “I’ve heard the rumors.”

  “Rumors aren’t always true. And even if it is, some say reformed rakes make the best husbands.”

  “Well, I have no desire to reform him. I’ll leave that up to some other poor soul.”

  “He is charming. How could you resist him?”

  “Priscilla said he’s so charming he could get the bees to hand over their honey. I’m sure it’s true, but I’ll keep mine. Let him get his honey from some other bees.”

  Her mother frowned, “Mercy, do you look down upon him because he isn’t of your class?”

  “No. That has nothing to do with it.”

  She wished she could tell her mother that she didn’t look down upon Ian who wasn’t in the upper class. The last three months had been the most thrilling of her life. Love was glorious. She now understood why the poets spoke of the rapturous wonder of two hearts entwined as one. Someday soon her name would be Mercy Magregor. It even sounded good. And once she got married, they’d have brown-haired, brown-eyed boys like their father, and blond-haired, green-eyed girls like their mother. Her life would be a fairytale. She had it all planned.

  But she couldn’t tell her mother this. Ian had not made his money, but he kept promising that he would soon. He wanted her to be patient, and she was trying.

  Her mother’s sweet voice interrupted her thoughts, “You know Mercy, some may look down upon Mr. Berkeley, but I don’t. I admire a man who can work hard and make something of himself. This is America, not England and all its class regulations. Our ancestors came to America to be free from that. Keep an open mind toward Mr. Berkeley.”

  She nodded, but how could she keep an open mind toward him? Her Ian had been a war hero, while Mr. Berkeley roamed the seas like a pirate taking advantage of the war, stealing loot to line his own pockets. Ian helped her father with his business, whereas Mr. Berkeley hurt her father’s business. Ian was humble and kind, whilst Mr. Berkeley walked around with a strut as if he owned the world. And at this rate, he probably would.

  Mercy could never be with a man that cared so much about money. Just the sight of Mr. Berkeley took her breath away and made her insides feel like pudding. All this more evidence of his danger. The less she had to be around him the better.

  “I have an idea,” her mother suggested. “Let’s stop by the sweet shop, buy some treats and take them to your father at his office.”

  “Oh, can we please just go home,” she begged. The thought seeing Ian in front of her mother and father made her feel nauseous.

  “Mercy, this isn’t like you. You always like to visit your father. Although he told me you haven’t been there for awhile.”

  “I do like visiting him, but I’m tired right now, and I need to start working on my dress.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that and I will help you. Let’s go.”

  Mercy found herself being pulled along to Pierre’s Sweet Shop, and less than thirty minutes later, they walked into her father’s office. Her heart pounded when Ian glanced up at her.

  Ian nodded politely, “Hello, Mrs. Creed.”

  “Hello, Mr. Magregor. This is my daughter Mercy.”

  He nodded with a smile. “We met when she came in to visit with her father several months ago.” He glanced at Mercy as if she was a person of little consequence. “Nice to see you again, Miss Creed.”

  My, he was a good actor. He should be on the stage. Deception seemed to come a little too easily to him. But not to her. She felt wretchedly dishonest and she stumbled awkwardly. “Oh, a, yes. You too.”

  Her mother looked at her frowning. “So you already met Mr. Magregor? You didn’t tell me that Mercy. Is that a habit you are forming, going around meeting handsome men and not telling me about it?”

  Ian tilted his head and looked at her darkly as he raised an eyebrow. “Handsome men?”

  In a lilting voice her mother patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, you are a handsome man, Mr. Magregor. Don’t act so surprised.”

  Mercy knew that wasn’t where his surprise came from. He already knew he was a handsome man. She wanted to put his mind at ease. “It’s nothing. I met Mr. Berkeley a few months ago. It was of little consequence to me so I forgot to mention it to my mother. We just ran into him down the street. Well, actually,” she continued nervously, “We almost ran into him, but he stopped just in time.”

  Ian’s eyes darkened more. “Addison Berkeley?”

  Her mother laughed. “Yes. Can you imagine she met a man like that and failed to mention it to me?”

  With a sweet smile, he looked up at her mother. “No, Mrs. Creed. I cannot imagine that.”

  Happy to have an ally, she reached into the box and declared, “Here have a treat.” She placed a little lemon tart on his desk.

  “Thank you,” he smiled up at her again, his eyes full of innocence. “That is kind of you.”

  With amusement, she said, “Yes, well, just don’t tell James that I gave you one. He is quite stingy with his tarts. I know he likes you, but if he knew you were touching his tart, he would not be happy.”

  Mercy knew her mother was trying to tease, but she couldn’t even force a smile. Shame washed over her like an angry wave, and she braced herself by a table to keep from toppling under its weight. It almost seemed like her mother was trying to make a point, but it must be her own guilty conscience.

  She was like the tart, and Ian kept touching her, and she had no doubt that her father would not be happy about it. She’d always wanted to be a good girl, and now she had become a liar. All along she’d known she was deceiving her mother, but to have it flaunted right in front of her face made her feel sick.

  Her mother looked at her with concern and walked to her side. “Sweetheart, are you ill? You look terribly pale. Actually, you look a little green.”

  “I’m not feeling well.”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve taken you home when you asked me to earlier.” She led Mercy to a chair. “Here, sweetheart. Sit down and I’ll take these treats to your father. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as her mother disappeared down the hall, Ian looked up at her. “Are you truly sick or was that just an excuse so you could be alone with me?”

  “I truly feel sick. The guilt of deceiving my parents makes me ill. I don’t like it, Ian.”

  “I don’t like it either, but what do you want me to do? I cannot have you yet, but I will not give you up.” His voice filled with intensity as he murmured, “You are mine, Mercy. You do know that?”

  His? Somehow his words didn’t sit well. “You speak of me like I’m your property, and I don’t like that. But to put your mind at ease, you must know I’m committed to you. Don’t ever
doubt my loyalty.”

  “I don’t like you talking with Addison Berkeley.”

  “I can’t be rude and ignore him. You have nothing to worry about.” Letting out a weary sigh, she whispered, “How much longer, Ian? I cannot continue this deception. It’s eating away at me.”

  He ran both his hands through his hair in agitation. “Mercy, believe me, I’m trying. You must trust me. I’m sorry for making you wait, but I’m making my money soon. It won’t be much longer. Meet me in the gazebo at eleven o’clock tomorrow night, and I’ll make it up to you, love.”