Five #3
“Perhaps. Or for movement inland. Sloane mentioned the tide, the south wharf, and the need for silence if anyone saw the transfer.”
Caleb cursed under his breath and tucked the paper inside his coat. “That will need to be moved quickly.”
“It already has,” Nathaniel said, clasping his hands behind his back.
Caleb studied him. “You sent word?”
“Not the full detail,” Nathaniel said, “but enough to stir the right men awake.”
A gust of wind moved through the trees and rattled the branches. Caleb glanced toward the road. “You’ve heard about the patrols?”
Nathaniel nodded. “Rothborne said they will be doubled the evening of the ball. The east lane especially. They don’t want anyone lingering near the Pembroke grounds.”
“That’s why I sent for you.” Caleb’s expression turned grave. “British activity is increasing everywhere. Two men were stopped near the north road last night. One got away, but the other didn’t.”
Nathaniel stiffened. “Who?”
Caleb gave him a somber look. “Josiah Bell.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes. Josiah was young. Too young. “Is he still alive?” he asked, hopeful.
“When last seen,” Caleb said. “They took him to the harbor post.”
Nathaniel gazed up at the sky. “Does he know enough to hurt us?”
Caleb put a hand on his shoulder. “Nate, any man knows enough, if frightened enough.”
Nathaniel nodded but said nothing.
“There’s more,” Caleb said. “Ellis has been asking after couriers. Not just Patriot riders. All couriers.”
Nathaniel let go a rough laugh. “My, how flattering.”
“This is no jest, boy.”
Nathaniel gave him a sage nod. “I know.”
“Do you?” Caleb asked. “Because from where I stand, you’re walking through the center of a lantern-lit room where every man in it starts to notice the shadow at your feet.”
Nathaniel’s smile faded. He wasn’t wrong. Whitby trusted him, but Whitby’s trust was like a shallow pond. Stir it once, and every stone beneath could be seen, and Rothborne already disliked anyone he didn’t command.
He thought of Anna. She had eyes sharp enough to cut thread and, thankfully, sense enough to be frightened by what she saw. The thought made him close his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them, Caleb was watching him. “There’s someone in the house, is there not?”
Nathaniel met his gaze. “There are a great many people in the house.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Nathaniel took Whitby’s second sealed note from his coat and checked the wax. “A maid at the Pembroke house hears more than she should.”
Caleb shrugged. “Most servants do.”
“Yes, but this one remembers.”
Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “Is she a patriot?”
“I don’t know.”
“Loyalist?”
Nathaniel thought a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?”
He remembered the way Anna lowered her eyes and how quiet she was. He thought of how she caught the spoon before any officer could blink. Most of all, he thought of the way she’d told him couriers could be dangerous, then looked as if she wanted to swallow her own words.
A slight smile curved his mouth. “I’m sure enough.”
Caleb crossed his arms. “If she is listening, she may become useful.”
“No,” Nathaniel snapped.
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up.
“No,” Nathaniel repeated, stepping toward him. “She’s a servant in an occupied house, surrounded by officers who would hang her before breakfast if they thought she carried messages. She is not trained. She has no protection. So, no.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “And if she’s already putting herself in the middle of it?”
Nathaniel had no answer for that.
The wind rattled a broken barrel near the shed door, catching his attention. Caleb sighed. “Nathaniel, my boy, you cannot save everyone.”
“I have no intention of saving everyone.”
“No, you don’t. Just a maid.”
Nathaniel slid the sealed note back inside his coat. “I have an errand to finish.”
“Nathaniel,” Caleb said, drawing the name out.
He stopped, one hand reaching for his horse’s reins. Caleb followed him. “The night of the ball,” Caleb said. “Watch the officers. Especially Sloane if he’s there. If Ellis shows up, assume every word out of his mouth is bait. Watch the maid if you must, but don’t let concern make you foolish.”
Nathaniel mounted. “Concern rarely does that to me.”
Caleb gave him a look that clearly said Nathaniel had no idea what he was talking about.
Nathaniel grimaced. “Fine. It often makes men foolish. Constantly.”
That earned him a ghost of a smile. Caleb waved him off, and Nathaniel turned his horse toward the road. When he glanced back, his friend had disappeared around the shed, taking the warning with him.
“Friday. South Wharf. Powder in barrels.” Nathaniel blew out a breath. “And the ball.” He urged his horse forward and tried to picture the Pembroke dining room and parlor in his mind, full of candles, officers, music, and servants moving unseen between one danger and the next.
And in the middle of it all would be Anna Turner, who believed that if she remained invisible enough, it would save her.
Unfortunately, she was about to learn something Nathaniel had long ago. Invisibility only worked until the wrong person began to look.