Chapter 8 Muddied Intentions #2
With morning’s light upon him, Benjamin could no longer ignore what had happened.
It was easy to hide his feelings in the dark—in the darkness Clara doused him with once she’d fled his room—but there, in the open corridors of the Boyd manor, was a certain emptiness that reflected the decaying chambers in his heart.
He hadn’t realized until last night how badly he yearned for love, normalcy, and as he entered the library for a respite, he felt an instant spike of heat at the sight of Clara sitting there, quietly reading a novel.
“Good morning,” he greeted. “Where is everyone?”
“Father’s at work, Catherine has a case of the vapors, and Mother is drunk,” Clara snapped, promptly turning another page. “Why are you here?”
“I…” Incredulous, Benjamin cleared his throat and tried again, “I’m living here until Charlotte’s return, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Ah, yes. Your ‘treasure’ whom you spoke of so fondly yesterday.” Clara’s gaze was sharp and accusatory, and her eyes grew wet before she quickly looked back down at her book. “I hope she knows what kind of man you are.”
Benjamin flinched. “Clara…” Sinking onto the settee alongside her, he attempted to lay his hand over hers, but she abruptly shook herself free.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
His chest grew tight. “Even if that were true, you know this was never my intention.”
“Then what was?”
“Well…” Swallowing, he tried again. “It must have been the delirium. Surely, my blood loss and exhaustion affected my behavior.”
Clara scoffed, abruptly snapping her book shut. “You don’t actually expect me to believe that, do you?”
“I love your sister,” Benjamin said with more conviction, “and I’d never do anything to betray her trust.”
“Neither would I,” Clara crisply agreed. “Good day to you, Philip.” And with that, she gathered up her skirts and stormed from the room.
When Benjamin stepped out for a much-needed breath of fresh air, he aimlessly walked the grounds, reeling from his conversation with Clara.
She was rightfully angry with him. What a fool he’d been!
And yet, hadn’t a small flame of yearning danced within her eyes?
Wasn’t he right to believe she might hold a scrap of affection for him?
While mulling this over, Benjamin heard the sound of briskly moving boots, and then two hands grabbed him and shoved. His back collided with one of the many ginkgo trees dotting the path.
“Oof!” His head knocked against the trunk, harshly, but not enough to wound, and once Amos came into view, it was clear he was wearing the same British uniform from earlier.
Infuriated, Benjamin ripped the other man’s grip from his coat. “Will you quit ambushing me like this?” he growled. “It’s not safe for you here!”
“Aye,” Amos agreed, his eyes sharp, “though from the sound o’ things, it ain’t too safe for you neither.”
Benjamin froze, his features sobering. “What do you know?”
“George Stewart,” Amos replied as if it were obvious. “I gotcher message. Any idea who snuffed ’im?”
“No…I was hoping you might’ve heard.”
The cabinetmaker snorted. “A bloody lot o’ good it’s done us keepin’ you here. We need’ja at camp more than ever—where actual progress is bein’ made.”
“I have been making progress,” Benjamin hissed. “Or have you already forgotten about Mr. Collins’s tampered goods?”
Amos’s jaw clenched. “Y’know I haven’t.”
“Do I? Because you’re acting as if I’m not risking everything for this cause!” Lowering his voice, Benjamin pressed, “Has there been word from Philadelphia?”
“Aye. The drop-off’s been made, so they dumped the tampered goods into the sea. So far, everyone’s none the wiser.”
Benjamin nodded in relief. “And my note…what are your plans for Mr. Collins’s farm?”
“I’m headin’ there at nightfall,” Amos said. “You good here?”
All at once, Clara’s bright, bewitching eyes came to mind, and cheeks warming, Benjamin nodded. “Yes…o-of course.”
Amos mirrored his nod. “Good. I’ll be done after midnight.”
The cabinetmaker turned to leave, but recalling a very important detail, Benjamin grabbed his elbow and tugged. “Wait a moment,” he pleaded. “I tried sending intelligence through Mr. Stewart, but he was killed in action…and now, I’m afraid whoever attacked him has my letter.”
Amos’s eyes went wide. “Zounds… Didja code it?”
Benjamin offered a jerky nod. “Yes, of course. I used our cipher key.”
The cabinetmaker exhaled, holding his hands as though in prayer. “All right, good. Thank the ol’ Man Upstairs! And’ja didn’t go signin’ your true name or nothin’?”
Benjamin scoffed. “I may be unlucky, but I’m not stupid,” he grumbled.
“I think we’re all right, but I wanted you aware…
all I included in the note were Tory names, as well as a rehash of what I’d already told you in the barn.
” Wincing, his shoulders drooped. “Unfortunately, there is one thing more. In regards to Stewart’s murder, I feel confident he was killed by the same man who attacked me. ”
“Attacked you?” Amos balked, looking him up and down. “Whoa-ho now, when did this happen, uh? For the love o’…! Moony, why the hell didn’tcha say so?”
“Because I don’t know who the man was!” Benjamin exclaimed. “I didn’t recognize him, but he seemed intent on harm. His parting words were ‘veni, vidi, vici’—‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’”
“Shite…”
“Exactly.” Smoothing a hand over his mouth, Benjamin grimaced.
“I thought for sure I would’ve been outed, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of my assailant since that night.
” Catching Amos’s fiery look, he interjected, “I know I should’ve sent word, and I know I shouldn’t have waited to tell you, but I needed to make sure that if I were apprehended, the trail wouldn’t lead back to anyone else. ”
Cursing under his breath, Amos decided, “I hafta stay here.”
“What?”
“I’ll pose as your cousin from England,” he continued, growing all the more determined. “Tell the Boyds how important I am to the king’s cause, or whatever twaddle those high-flyers yap about, an’ ask ’em to billet me ’til we can figure everything out.”
Benjamin scoffed, tossing up his hands. “This is ludicrous, Amos. You can’t just—”
“What’s ‘ludicrous’ is leavin’ this up to chance,” he growled. “You’re compromised, Ben. Lemme help.”
He exhaled. “Be that as it may—”
“What?” Amos cut in. “Don’tcha think I can do anything?”
“Well, you’re not exactly subtle.”
He snorted. “In all our years o’ friendship, I’d like to think y’could gimme more credit than that.” Pointing toward the Boyd residence, he commanded, “Introduce me.”
“Amos…”
“Introduce me, or I’ll make the bloody introductions me’self!”
Benjamin steeled his shoulders, then nodded in assent. Whether he liked it or not, the Ashby family tree was about to get a little larger…