Eleven
Anna stared at him as if he’d struck her. For one wretched heartbeat, Nathaniel let himself see it: the fear in her eyes, the disbelief, the sharp, bruised hurt that cut through him far more cleanly than suspicion could have.
The soldiers rounded the bend in the lane, and Nathaniel had no more room for regret. He spoke again, low enough that only she could hear. “Give it to me.”
“No.” Her back stiffened. She was infuriatingly brave. Of course she’d said no. She stood in the fading light with danger closing in, and nothing but pure pride held her upright when good sense ought to have sent her running back to the kitchen.
He’d known she might not obey, but he hadn’t expected the sight of it to twist something inside him so hard. For a moment he forgot every practiced rule that kept him alive. The soldiers were close enough now that he could hear the creak of leather and the clink of metal.
Nathaniel stepped nearer to Anna and lowered his voice. “If they search you, you hang.”
Her face paled. He hated himself for saying it so plainly. “I know,” she whispered.
No, she didn’t. Not fully. She could imagine danger, but imagination was kind compared to men like Ellis.
Nathaniel caught her wrist. Anna flinched. The small movement nearly undid him. “I am not going to hurt you,” he whispered.
“You are asking me to trust you,” she shot back.
“Yes.”
“Well, I do not.”
The words landed exactly where they ought. He deserved them.
He slid his fingers beneath the edge of her cuff. The folded paper was there, tucked against the inside seam, small and warm from her skin. A scrap of information that could save Josiah Bell or condemn Anna. He drew it free and palmed it before the soldiers could see.
Anna’s breath caught. Her eyes told him she thought she’d just watched him steal every hope she carried.
Good. Let her think it. If she believed he’d betrayed her, she might be frightened enough to go back inside and stay there.
The two soldiers stopped their horses a few paces away. One was broad and red-cheeked with mud on his boots. The other was younger, thinner, with an eager look in his eyes.
“Mr. Reed,” the broad-shouldered one said, “orders are to stop anyone on the lane.”
“So I was told.” Nathaniel placed himself between Anna and them. “I have stopped her, as you can see.”
The younger soldier peered around him. “What is she doing out?”
Anna straightened. “I am fetching horehound from Mrs. Albright.”
The broad soldier looked at him. “Horehound?”
“For a cough,” Anna said. “One of the other maids has one.”
The younger man snorted. “I hear no cough.”
“The one with the cough is in the kitchen at Pembroke house,” she replied.
The broader soldier smacked the thinner one in the chest.
Nathaniel didn’t dare look at her. Even though every protective instinct he had was rising to the surface. “She is Mrs. Pembroke’s maid,” he said, “and she is going back to the house.”
Anna’s gaze shot to him. “Mr. Reed…”
“You are going back,” he said, letting a hard edge enter his voice. “Captain Whitby has no patience tonight for servants wandering where they ought not.”
Hurt flashed across her face. Nathaniel turned that into a wall and placed it between them because it might keep her alive.
The younger soldier eyed them. “Orders said search anyone on the lane.”
Anna froze.
Nathaniel looked at him. “Do you see her carrying anything suspicious?”
“Well.” The young soldier looked her over. “Now that you mention it, no.”
“Then search the lane if you like. Search the trees. Search every rabbit hole between here and Mrs. Albright’s.
” Nathaniel reached into his coat and withdrew the folded paper he’d taken from Captain Whitby earlier in the day.
“Or if you require paper badly enough to justify your evening, take this.”
He held it out. The broad soldier took the paper, unfolded it, and frowned. “What is this?”
“Captain Whitby’s errand,” Nathaniel said, “which is why I am on the lane.”
The younger soldier narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “And why was the girl so near you?”
“Because she came out and nearly walked into me,” Nathaniel said, annoyed.
The broad-shouldered man chuckled. “Go back to the house, miss. The other maid’s cough will have to wait.”
Anna stood her ground a second longer.
He saw the fight in her, but also saw the moment fear, anger, and betrayal mixed together so tightly she could no longer trust what she knew. She turned and walked away, shoulders straight, her shawl pulled tight and didn’t look back.
Nathaniel watched long enough to be certain she’d reached the kitchen path.
The young soldier handed back Whitby’s paper. “Major Ellis said no one was to carry messages along this road.”
“Then it is fortunate I am carrying orders, not messages,” Nathaniel said.
The broad soldier gave him a doubtful look. “Same thing, is it not?”
“Not to officers. They enjoy distinctions.” Nathaniel tucked the harmless paper back into his coat.
“We are just following orders,” the young soldier bristled.
“So am I.” Nathaniel mounted his horse in one smooth motion. “If Major Ellis asks why I was delayed, shall I give him your names?”
Both men exchanged a glance. The broad-shouldered one drew his horse back. “No need.”
“I thought not.” Nathaniel turned his horse down the lane, away from Pembroke House and away from Anna. Only when the soldiers were behind him did he allow himself to breathe.
His hand opened. The folded slip lay damp against his palm.
He tucked it inside the lining of his glove and urged his horse forward.
He rode east for nearly a quarter mile. Then, at the hollow where the old cart track veered through a stand of pine, he turned off the main road and pushed his horse hard through the trees.
Branches slapped his coat. Mud pulled at the horse’s hooves, and somewhere behind him, a crow lifted off from a branch with a furious call.
He had little time. If Ellis moved Bell after dark, then Caleb needed to be warned before the sunset died entirely. The east road watched, the rescue would have to happen before the transfer or not at all. He drew in a breath, let it out. And if Anna believed he’d handed her message to the British…
He shut that thought away. It didn’t matter what she believed about him. It only mattered that she was alive to believe it.
The cart track opened near the old cooper’s yard. Nathaniel dismounted before his horse fully stopped and led the animal behind the smokehouse. The place smelled of damp wood, old ash, and neglect. He crouched by the rear wall and found the loose stone exactly where Caleb once marked it.
The hollow beneath it was empty. No one had come yet.
Nathaniel pulled the slip of paper from his glove, then hesitated. The message named him as watched. If he left it and the wrong person found it, his cover wouldn’t merely crack. It would shatter. Worse, Anna’s part might be guessed. Mrs. Pembroke’s too.
Nathaniel tore a small, clean edge from Whitby’s paper and wrote with the stub of a pencil he kept in his pocket.
Now the message was written in his hand and not the hand of either Mrs. Pembroke or Anna’s.
He wasn’t sure who’d written the original, but he’d destroy it as soon as he could without leaving ash or scraps behind.
He’d just shoved the message beneath the stone when a sound came from the trees. Nathaniel froze. For a moment, there was only the wind.
Then a voice. “You’re late.” Caleb stepped from behind the smokehouse, his face grim, a pistol in his hand.
Nathaniel exhaled. “I am beginning to tire of people saying that.”
Caleb lowered the pistol. “You were followed.”
“I know. Two soldiers.”
Caleb nodded. “And the girl?”
Nathaniel didn’t answer right away.
Caleb swore under his breath. “Nate.”
“She’s back at the house,” he finally said. “Safe. For the moment.”
Caleb looked around. “That’s not the same thing.”
“I know that,” Nathaniel snapped.
Caleb tucked the pistol into his coat and took the note from beneath the stone. He read it, and all remaining irritation left his expression.
“Bell tonight,” Nathaniel said. “Use Brewster’s lower field if you can. Sloane mentioned it last night.”
Caleb folded the note. “We can move men easily enough through there.”
“You’ll have little time,” he pointed out.
“We never have enough as it is.” Caleb smiled. “It’s a good thing we’re used to it.” Caleb studied him a moment. “What happened with Anna Turner?”
Nathaniel looked in the direction of Pembroke House. “I took the message from her.”
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up.
Nathaniel dragged a hand through his hair. “She thinks I gave it to the soldiers.”
“Did you?”
Nathaniel glared at him.
Caleb grinned. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“She needed to believe I did.” Nathaniel remembered her face as she turned away and the hurt she tried to hide.
“Did she believe it?” Caleb asked.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Does she know who you are?”
“No.”
Caleb closed the distance between them. “Then perhaps it’s time she did.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Not with Ellis watching.”
Caleb stepped closer still. “You cannot protect her by making her hate you.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “It seemed efficient at the time.”
“It seems stupid to me,” Caleb said.
Nathaniel’s shoulders slumped. “You always did have a gift for encouragement, Caleb.”
“I have a gift for staying alive. So do you. And you remember to think with your head and not whatever part of you is currently tangled around a maid with quick hands.”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “Careful, my friend.”
“Ah,” Caleb said softly. “There it is. Now that is a problem.”
Nathaniel looked away. The sky beyond the trees had darkened toward purple. Time was running out. “Can you get Bell?”
“We can try,” Caleb said. “Go to the harbor post. Be seen. Make it convincing.”
Nathaniel mounted again as Caleb looked up at him. “When this turns, and it will, make certain the girl hears the truth from you.”
Nathaniel gathered up his reins. “If she’ll listen.”
Caleb patted the horse. “She will if you give her a reason to.”