Twelve
The next evening, the usual men left the parlor and moved toward the hall in a rush of boots, orders, and clipped tempers. Captain Whitby gave Mrs. Pembroke a strained bow before leaving. “Madam.”
“Captain,” she replied. “Are you leaving and returning my house to me in good order?”
He didn’t answer. Rothburne followed him out. Major Ellis paused long enough to look at Anna standing behind Mrs. Pembroke, then Nathaniel as he sauntered out of the parlor.
Mrs. Pembroke smiled at Major Ellis. It was not a friendly expression and gave him a little wave.
Ellis left without comment, and for several moments, the parlor was quiet.
Nathaniel exhaled and Anna wondered why he hadn’t gone with the others.
Mrs. Pembroke crossed to the tea tray on a table just inside the parlor, picked up a cup, and handed it to him. “Drink that before you faint.” She ushered them into the room.
“I’m not going to faint,” he said, following her.
“Men often say that right before becoming a nuisance on the carpet.”
Nathaniel accepted the cup. “Then I shall drink it to spare the carpet.”
Anna looked at him. Truly looked. He was tired.
Not in the way a man appears after a poor night’s sleep, but when one holds too many lies with nothing but his hands and nerve.
His coat was marked with mud near the hem.
A thin scratch crossed the back of one hand and another across his chin.
He harbored a shadow in his eyes he no doubt didn’t allow the British to see.
Nathaniel met her gaze. “Miss Turner.”
“Mr. Reed.” The words were ordinary. Painfully so.
Mrs. Pembroke looked between them and set down her cup. “I must fetch something.”
Anna didn’t trust that at all. “From where?”
“My room, dear. I have not yet reached the age where I must seek permission to move about my own house.” She started for the door, then paused. “Do not quarrel too loudly. Mercy has the hearing of a fox near a henhouse.” She left and closed the door.
Anna stared after her. “She did that on purpose.”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said.
Anna turned back to him. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I have come to know Mrs. Pembroke.” Nathaniel set the cup aside. “Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For not saying the wrong truth when you were interrogated.”
Anna folded her arms. “You mean for not telling them what you spoke to me.”
His face sobered. “Yes.”
“You’re lucky there was only the one interrogation. Had there been another of late, I should be angry enough to have done it.”
“You’re angry now,” he pointed out.
“Yes,” she said. “I am. You frightened me on the lane.”
His gaze lowered. “I know.”
She let her arms drop. “And… you hurt me.”
That struck him. She saw it before he hid it, and some unhappy part of her was glad. Not because she wanted to wound him, but because she needed to know the words reached him.
He looked at her again. “I am sorry.”
Anna had expected many things. Explanation. Defense. Some calm, useful answer about soldiers in the lane and what had been necessary. She hadn’t expected the apology to come so simply.
Her anger lost a little of its footing. “I trusted you for one foolish moment,” she said.
His face softened a notch. “It wasn’t foolish.”
“It felt foolish when you looked at me as though I was nothing.” The words came out in a rush.
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “You were never nothing.”
Anna swallowed. He stepped closer, then stopped, as though even that much nearness had to be considered. “If those soldiers believed you mattered to me, if they thought for one moment that taking you would move me, then you would have been in more danger than the message.”
Anna’s throat ached. “So you made me believe I didn’t matter.”
“Yes.”
She stared at the floor. “That was cruel or you.”
“Yes,” he agreed, his voice softer.
“And effective, I might add.” She gave him a hint of a smile.
He let go a small, humorless laugh. “Unfortunately.”
Anna looked toward the window. Men moved near the stables. Red Coats. Still searching for Bell no doubt. And angry, and certain that order could be restored if they shouted loud enough.
“You helped Bell escape,” she finally said.
He stepped closer. “I helped warn the men who could.”
She could feel the heat coming off his body. “You carried the message.” Heavens, why had her voice become so soft?
“Yes.” He took another small step.
Her eyes met his. “Even though you were being watched.”
“Yes.”
He smelled of leather and soap, his own scent almost heady. Anna had to think about what to say. “And… even though Major Ellis suspected you.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Major Ellis suspects furniture if it stands too quietly.”
Anna smiled as well, though she tried not to.
Nathaniel caught it, and the corner of his own mouth gentled. It made him look like a man instead of a risk. A tired, brave, aggravating man who’d lied to soldiers, saved a prisoner, and apologized without flinching.
Anna folded her arms again. “Which side are you on, Mr. Reed?”
He stilled as he gazed at her.
“No clever answers,” she said. “Just the truth.”
He held her gaze. “I serve General Washington’s people.”
She sucked in a breath. Somewhere deep inside, she’d known. The wash line. His warnings. The way he heard everything and reacted to nothing. He stood among British officers and seemed least himself when they trusted him most.
Still, hearing it changed something. Her fear didn’t vanish. If anything, it deepened. But it became cleaner. Easier to name. “You might have told me.”
“I wanted to.”
She gazed into his eyes. “When?”
He rubbed his chin, as if thinking. “The first time you looked at me as though you wished to strike me with a serving spoon.”
Anna tried not to smile. “That could have been several occasions.”
“I know. It made choosing difficult.”
The laugh escaped before she could stop it. His expression warmed at the sound, and for one dangerous heartbeat, the parlor felt too small and too quiet.
Mrs. Pembroke entered the room without warning, carrying the black case.
Anna’s breath caught.
Nathaniel looked at it, and all the softness left his face. The courier in him returned at once.
Mrs. Pembroke set the case on the table. “Well. Since we have established Mr. Reed is marginally less irritating than expected, we may as well finish the business at hand.”
Anna’s pulse took off. “The locket.”
Mrs. Pembroke opened the case. There it lay, beautiful, sentimental, and dangerous.
Nathaniel didn’t touch it. “You’ve been carrying that in this house?”
“Not carelessly,” Mrs. Pembroke said.
He shot her a look. “That does not answer the question.”
Mrs. Pembroke smiled. “It answers the important part.”
He glanced at Anna. Understanding growing in his expression. “You had it at the ball.”
Anna touched the seam of her skirt out of habit, though the locket no longer rested there. “Um, yes.”
His face tightened. “And Ellis named you.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
Exasperation crossed his face, and he closed his eyes for a moment. “Good Lord.”
Mrs. Pembroke sniffed. “Yes, I imagine He’s been busy.”
Nathaniel opened his eyes and looked at the locket again. “This is known in certain hands.”
“Very few hands,” Mrs. Pembroke said. “But enough.”
Anna glanced between them. “You know it?”
“I know of it.” He glanced at Mrs. Pembroke. “Not the details.”
“The fewer details, the better.” Mrs. Pembroke lifted the locket and placed it in Anna’s palm.
Anna stared at her. “Me?”
“You began this by stitching the pocket. You may finish it by choosing the courier.”
Anna’s hand closed around the locket, the silver cool against her skin.
Nathaniel’s gaze roamed her face. “You don’t have to give it to me.”
Mrs. Pembroke’s brows shot up. “Of course she does. I did not bring it down so we could admire it and discuss your humility.”
Anna barely heard her. The locket sat in her hand, heavier than before. Inside were the words she’d forgotten.
In God We Trust.
Anna stepped toward Nathaniel. He didn’t so much as reach for it. That mattered to her more than she thought. She held it out. “Take it.”
His eyes searched hers. “Are you certain?”
“No.”
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile.
Anna drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m frightened and still angry. I didn’t like how you chose for me in the lane.”
He gave her a sage nod. “I know.”
“But Bell is gone, and safe. You did that. Or helped do it.” She looked down at the locket. “And Mrs. Pembroke trusts you. I think… General Washington’s people trust you too.”
He said nothing and simply waited.
Anna gazed up at him again. “And despite my best efforts, I find that I do as well.”
His usual guarded look eased, and what remained was so tender it nearly undid her. He accepted the locket, his fingers brushing hers. The touch was brief, but Anna felt it all the way to her heart.
Mrs. Pembroke cleared her throat. “Excellent. Now that we have survived a dramatic transfer without anyone swooning, Mr. Reed, you will leave by the garden path. Elias has been instructed to be useless near the west gate for precisely five minutes. He excels at it, so do not waste the opportunity.”
Nathaniel tucked the locket inside his coat. “Where is it to go?”
Mrs. Pembroke gave him a look.
He nodded. “Right. No clever questions.”
She turned to Anna. “See? He learns.”
Anna’s smile faded. “You are leaving now?”
Nathaniel turned to her. “I should.”
“Because of Major Ellis?”
“Because of several men, one locket, and a ship that will not hold past dawn.”
Mrs. Pembroke closed the case with a snap. “And because if you linger in my parlor gazing at my maid, even Captain Whitby may notice.”
Anna’s face heated. “Mrs. Pembroke.”
Her employer merely shrugged.
Nathaniel looked at the floor. “I’d better go.”
“Yes, you’d better,” Mrs. Pembroke said. “Anna, see him to the garden door.”
Anna blinked. “Me?”
“I cannot do everything.” With that, Mrs. Pembroke lifted the empty case and marched out as if she hadn’t just arranged the very thing she pretended to discourage.
For a moment, neither Anna nor Nathaniel moved.
He picked up his hat. “Miss Turner?”