Less Than a Gentleman

by Kerrelyn Sparks

Caroline took the comb from the bedside table and dragged it through her hair. “I admit there is a great deal I don’t know about him, but I believe I can trust him. He—he says he cares for me.”

  “Already?” Virginia’s eyes narrowed. “How often have you been alone with him?”

  “A few times.”

  “In your bedchamber?”

  “He behaved himself. Somewhat.” The warmth in her cheeks reminded Caroline how poorly she disguised her feelings. “Here. Let me tighten your laces.”

  Virginia turned her back. “He is a handsome man.”

  “You . . . noticed?”

  “I’m expecting, not blind. I also have some experience in the wonders of physical attraction.” Virginia rubbed her swollen belly. “And the results.”

  “I—I haven’t gone that far.”

  “Good. I don’t want to see you hurt again.” Virginia glanced back, a thoughtful look in her pale green eyes. “There could be more to him than you realize.”

  “I told him about Roger. Thomas knows how strongly I feel about avoiding soldiers.”

  “Men aren’t always what they seem. Remember how Quincy pretended to be a fop?”

  “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” Caroline tied the laces, then helped her sister with her stockings and shoes. Ginny had reached the point she could no longer see her feet, much less reach them.

  Since the redcoats’ arrival, the children ate their meals in the kitchen. Charlotte and Edward skipped down the hallway, then waited at the stairs. As Caroline ambled beside her slow-moving sister, she noticed once again how the dusty trail ended abruptly by the wall.

  There it was. A hairline crack in the wall, so fine she hadn’t noticed it before. She traced it with her finger. It continued through the chair rail down to the floor.

  “Are you coming?” Ginny asked at the top of the stairs.

  “I forgot something. Go ahead. I’ll catch up.” Caroline watched her sister and the children descend the stairs.

  The crack in the wall outlined a door, but how to open it? There was no visible latch, so there must be a hidden one. She ran her fingers beneath the chair rail. Yes, she felt a lever of some kind, small and metallic. She pulled and heard a snick.

  The right side of the door swung out; the left swung inward. Interesting. It swiveled on a rod, so there were no visible hinges from either side.

  She peeked inside and spied a steep staircase going down. It was too dark to investigate without a light. She knelt to take a closer look at the top landing of the stairs. Yes, footprints in the dust. Thomas Haversham had come this way.

  A door closed nearby, and she heard male voices approaching. It had to be the foot soldiers who roomed on the third floor. She pushed the secret door shut ’til she heard the click.

  Footsteps rounded the corner. Two soldiers stopped when they saw her.

  She smiled. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  One stepped forward and offered his arm. “May I escort you to breakfast?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Caroline’s heart pounded as she accompanied the soldiers to the dining room. She had discovered Haversham’s secret. Where did the staircase lead? To the library, she would wager. And very soon, she’d know for sure.

  Early in the morning, Matthias arrived at Snow’s Island. Instead of the usual lone welcome from Simon, there were ten soldiers to greet him. The population had multiplied overnight.

  “Matt!” Richard approached him. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Matthias dismounted. “I take it Marion’s back?”

  “Aye, and he wants to see you.” Richard eyed him with a frown. “What happened to your clothes?”

  Matthias brushed flour off his coat sleeves. “I slept in the mill on a mattress of flour sacks.”

  “Why?” Richard smiled. “Did the vixen try to bite you?”

  “No, the house is full of redcoats.”

  Richard’s smile faded. “Is Aunt Jane all right?”

  “Yes. Where’s Marion?”

  “This way.” Richard led him through a maze of tents.

  “Did he receive my report?”

  “Yes. Major Munro is . . . assisting him.”

  Matthias figured this was his cousin’s tactful way of saying Marion could hardly read. When Richard pointed out the tent, Matthias entered and found Marion and Major Munro seated at a table with a stack of papers in front of them.

  “Captain Thomas.” Marion glanced up. “I’ve been looking at your report.”

  Major Munro stood and skirted the table with a hand outstretched. “I thank you for finding my daughters.”

  “My pleasure, sir.” Matthias shook his hand, careful not to wince from the Scotsman’s tight grip.

  Marion leaned back in his chair. “I see you captured supplies at Kingstree without any casualties. Well done.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Matthias was uncomfortably aware that the Scottish major was inspecting him closely. “Without the ferries and bridges, the British have been forced to rely on barges. I have their schedule here.” He removed the folded paper from his coat.

  “Good lad.” Major Munro snatched the paper from his hand and passed it to Marion. “How did ye acquire the information?”

  “The redcoats have taken over my home, a plantation on the Black River, midway between Charles Town—”

  “Wait.” Major Munro raised a hand to interrupt. “Did ye no’ write that my daughters were staying at yer home?”

  “Yes, sir, they are, but they’re safe.”

  The major frowned. “I’ll be the judge of that, laddie.”

  “They are unharmed, sir. My mother is there also. I wouldn’t have left them if I thought it too dangerous.”

  “Enough.” Marion waved the schedule in the air. “How did you acquire this?”

  “Captain Hickman has commandeered the library as his headquarters. I went in at night and copied the schedule.”

  “How many soldiers are there?” Munro asked.

  “There were six, but now there’s only the captain and two infantry. Of course, whenever a barge comes, the number will increase.”

  Marion frowned. “Weren’t they suspicious of you?”

  “They never knew I was there, sir. The house has a secret passageway they know nothing about.”

  Marion exchanged a look with Major Munro, then rose to his feet. Planting his palms on the table, he leaned forward. “You can access their headquarters unseen?”

  “Yes, sir,” Matthias replied with an uneasy feeling.

  Marion circled the table. “Can you keep your presence there a secret?”

  “You’re sending me back?”

  “Of course. ’Tis too good an opportunity to pass up. You’ll need to choose a courier to deliver your messages.” Marion stopped in front of him. “Can you do it?”

  Matthias took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.” He understood the penalty for spying, but the odds of dying in battle were just as bad. At least he’d be there to make sure Caroline didn’t risk her neck.

  Marion whisked a paper off the desk. “Considering the risk you’re taking, I’m promoting you to a major.”

  Matthias blinked. “Thank you, sir, but hiding in a secret passageway is hardly a heroic act.”

  “It is when you’re that close to the enemy. Particularly in your case.” Marion handed him the paper.

  Matthias stared at a crude likeness of himself. At the top of the printed handbill, the title read, Wanted for Treason and Murder—Matthias Murray Thomas.

  Damn it to hell. There was a reward on his head.

  “Congratulations. I dinna know ye were such a valuable man.” Munro took the handbill and set it on the desk. “Do my daughters know who ye are?”

  “No, sir. I . . . never told them.” Matt’s face grew warm.

  Munro
narrowed his eyes. “What did ye tell them?”

  “As little as possible, sir.”

  “A good strategy,” Marion said. “He must be careful. Good luck, Major.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Matthias exited the tent. A wanted man. A spy. He’d be lucky if he saw his twenty-ninth birthday.

  This was terrible timing. He couldn’t continue to see Caroline when he was a wanted man. She’d suffered enough from losing that Roger fellow. But how could he avoid seeing her when he had orders to spy at the house?

  “Well?” Richard asked. “What happened? You’re staring at the clouds.”

  Matthias looked at his cousin. “I have to go home.”

  “But the redcoats are there.”

  “That’s my new assignment. I’m to spy on them.”

  Richard sucked in a long breath. “That’s dangerous.”

  “There’s more. There’s a price on my head.”

  Richard nodded. “I know. I saw my father yesterday. They posted one of the handbills on his church door.”

  Matthias closed his eyes briefly. How had the British figured out who he was? “You know the way to Loblolly. Will you be my courier?”

  “All right. Where and when?”

  “The orchard. The peach tree that was hit by lightning.” This was Tuesday, Matthias thought. “Come every Wednesday and Saturday evening.”

  “I’ll come, too,” Major Munro announced behind them.

  Matthias turned. How long had Caroline’s father been there?

  Munro continued, “I want to know the way to yer house in case my daughters need my protection.”

  “I’ll be there,” Matthias said. “I can protect them.”

  The Scotsman removed a pipe and pouch of tobacco from his coat. “Do ye think so, laddie?”

  “If one of the redcoats lays a hand on Caroline, I’ll shred the bastard and feed the pieces to an alligator.”

  “Och, that’s good.” The major packed tobacco into his pipe. “But ye seem to have forgotten I have more than one daughter. Did Ginny have the wee bairn yet?”

  Matthias felt his face grow warm. “No, sir. And her children are fine.”

  “Thomas is a Welsh name, aye?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The major stuck his pipe, unlit, in his mouth, then stuffed the pouch of tobacco back into his coat pocket. “I’ve always thought the Welsh were too serious. Make good poets and preachers, though.”

  Matthias snorted. What ridiculous hogwash.

  Richard lit a stick in the nearby campfire and handed it to the Scotsman. “You may be right, sir. My father is a preacher.”

  Matthias scowled at his cousin. “It is nonsense.”

  Richard smiled. “I’ve always thought you were a bit too serious, Matt.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Munro lit his pipe, then tossed the stick into the fire. “Any Scots in yer family, Thomas?”

  “Yes, sir. On my mother’s side. Murray.”

  “Good.” Munro pointed his pipe at Matthias. “And if ye lay a hand on Caroline, should I shred you to pieces?”

  Matthias blinked. “That will not be necessary, sir.”

  Jamie Munro’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Ye mean ye doona plan to touch her?”

  Matthias had a bad feeling the man had been baiting him all along. “I mean that I will behave honorably, sir.”

  Munro nodded. “See that ye do, Major.”

  “Major?” Rich turned to Matthias. “You were promoted?”

  “Aye, he was,” Munro answered for him. “If I have to kill him, ’twill look verra impressive on his gravestone.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  After making an excuse of not feeling well, Caroline left the children and Virginia in the kitchen, enjoying the birthday pudding Dottie had made. It was early afternoon and she had delayed long enough. The secret door on the third floor begged to be investigated.

  As she scurried up the stairs, she heard the tinkling sounds of the harpsichord. Agatha was in the front parlor entertaining Jane and the redcoats. Good. There would be no one on the third floor.

  She lit a candle in the nursery using the tinder wheel. In the hallway, she located the hidden latch and pulled. She squeezed through the opening and closed the door. Its tiny click sounded ominously final. What if all the doors were similarly hidden? She might have trouble finding an exit. Her thoughts raced ahead, imagining skeletons of other explorers who had failed to find their way out.

  “Don’t be silly,” she murmured, and held her candle aloft. The small landing gave way to a narrow staircase which descended into darkness.

  Slowly she moved down the stairs. Dust lay thick on the steps, coating her shoes and causing her nose to itch. How well could a person remain hidden if he sneezed?

  On the first floor, she spotted the door that must open to the library. At eye level there was a rectangular sliding panel. She winced when it opened with a scrape. Why didn’t Thomas grease this?

  She peered into the library. Yes, this explained everything. Thomas had been spying on them. Spying.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. Thomas Haversham might be a real spy. That would explain why he disappeared for weeks at a time and moved about the house in the dark in his stocking feet.

  “Damn.” She was not one to normally curse, but this situation certainly warranted it. A spy? That was even more dangerous than being a soldier. How could he do this when he knew how she felt?

  She snapped the peephole shut. The grating sound made her grit her teeth. Thomas was flirting with disaster. It would be like losing Roger all over again.

  But worse. Her feelings for Roger didn’t compare to the yearning that squeezed her heart whenever she thought of Thomas. With Roger, she had been flattered that a man, any man, had wanted to court her, and she’d allowed him to kiss her out of curiosity. How small and childish it seemed to her now. Poor Roger. He had deserved better than that.

  And now Thomas was engaging in dangerous activity. How could she bear it if anything happened to him? With her heart heavy, she trudged to the end of the corridor.

  When she opened the door, she recognized the small room lined with cupboards. She had emerged next to the dining room.

  A jab of anger coursed through her that Thomas had ordered her not to spy, when he was obviously engaged in the activity himself. Even more irritating was the fact that he wasn’t very good at it. The secret corridor afforded him the means, but he wasn’t properly maintaining it. The doors and peepholes all squeaked. And the dust caused him to leave footprints wherever he went. She’d followed his trail and discovered the hidden passageway far too easily. If he continued to leave clues like that, he would be discovered in no time.

  She would have to convince him to stop. He wasn’t cut out for espionage. In the meantime, she would have to protect him the best she could.

  The rest of the afternoon, she worked like the devil. She mopped the floors of the secret passageway from top to bottom. Without windows, the air became stifling hot. By the time she reached the first floor, she was drenched with sweat. She left the mop and pail in the china room and dashed to the kitchen.

  Dottie looked her over. “Good Lord, girl, you look ill. Are you running a fever?”

  “I’m fine,” Caroline assured her. “Could I have a bit of grease? The door to my room creaks.”

  With a small jar of bacon grease, Caroline headed back to the corridor and greased all the hinges and latches she could find. She scurried to her room, grabbed a clean set of clothing, then descended the grand staircase. She planned to change clothes after bathing in the kitchen. Just as she reached the back door, it opened.

  Jane and Agatha sauntered in from the garden. Caroline hid the jar of grease beneath the bundle of clothes in her arms.

  Jane gasped. “Are you all right, dear?”


  Agatha stepped back. “She has some dreaded disease, I know it. She’ll give it to us all.”

  Caroline grimaced. Did she look that bad? “I believe I should excuse myself from supping with you this evening.”

  “Very well, dear.” Jane’s brow furrowed with concern. “I hope you’ll feel better soon.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Caroline hurried out the back door to the kitchen.

  After a hot bath, she dressed and took a tray of food up to the nursery. Eating with her family was so much better than dining with Agatha and the redcoats. Thank God she no longer needed to flirt with Captain Hickman in order to obtain information. She could use the secret passageway instead.

  As the evening advanced, her nerves tightened with anticipation. The night was ripe for spying.

  Matthias arrived at Loblolly just after sunset. He moved stealthily toward the kitchen and peered in the window. Only Dottie and Betsy were inside.

  He waited for the guard to complete his pass, then strolled into the kitchen. “Good evening, ladies.”

  Dottie rose to her feet. “Boy, what are you doing here? You should be safe in the swamp.”

  “This is my new assignment.” Matthias rolled a barrel against the door. “I’m to spy on Captain Hickman.”

  With a frown, Dottie shook her head. “Sounds like a good way to get your neck stretched to me.”

  Betsy shuddered. “I hate having to serve them.”

  “Look at it this way.” Matthias sat at the table. “With the enemy this close, we can know what they’re doing, then use that information to defeat them.”

  Betsy twisted her apron in her hands. “I’m afraid of them. I hate being afraid of them.”

  “Drink this to steady your nerves.” Dottie poured a foul-smelling concoction into a pewter mug and handed it to the maid. “You have to be strong, girl. Don’t give them the pleasure of knowing they can frighten you.”

  Betsy nodded and lifted the mug.

  Matthias wrinkled his nose. “That stuff stinks. Do you have anything to eat that smells better than a dead skunk?”

  Dottie snorted and plunked a plate in front of him. “You think blocking the door will keep you safe? If they can’t get in, they’ll be suspicious.”