Birch had that closed look again. At any mention of his brothers, his nostrils flared and his mouth grew pinched. She assumed they were not on good terms. “I thank you kindly for your help, as I am sure your mother did as well.”
The pinched, haunted expression left his eyes. “Now tell me what happened with Lydia.”
Hannah sighed and sat in the chair opposite him. “The usual.”
“You mean you fought again about who was right, the Americans or the British?”
She nodded. “I don’t know why I bother talking to her. She is like old Sally with her bit between her teeth.”
“You ever think you fit that description as well?” he asked with a sly grin.
“Sometimes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“You are that way as well. When it comes to this conflict, there is no gray area, no in-between meeting place.”
He sobered and gave a slow nod. “But we shall find our way through this someday. Perhaps then you and I can be friends.”
She smiled at the thought. “I think I would miss our disagreements.”
He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that sent a tingle glowing in the pit of her stomach, a somehow frightening and exhilarating feeling. She was gratified when he laughed. He so rarely did, it was a joy to hear him.
“We should soon find areas of discord.” He rubbed his leg absently.
Her smile faded at the major source of their discord. She could never truly care for a loyalist. “Does your leg pain you?”
“Only a bit. I will soon be able to walk on it. Another week and we can remove the splint and try it.”
Another week. She nodded bleakly and avoided his gaze. “Would you care for some tea?”
“I should, indeed.”
She was conscious of his gaze as she took the cube of tea and shaved slivers into the tea caddy, then dropped it into the teapot and poured hot water from the kettle over it. As the tea steeped, she gathered up the yarn and neatened the ball. “I am most heartily sorry for the ordeal you must face tonight.”
He smiled. “I can handle Miss Olive. I have gotten rather good at it by now.”
Hannah had been amazed at just how well he handled Olive. He treated her with cool courtesy and ignored her simpering gazes and flirtatious pats with her fan. But her advances were becoming more blatant. The last time they’d seen her, Hannah had been mortified at her sister-in-law’s behavior. She never knew when she would come in from her duties at the lighthouse to find Olive, her horse face drawn into a semblance of a smile, seated in the parlor. Though part of a lightkeeper’s duties was caring for injured sailors, this situation wasn’t something her mother-in-law was likely to condone, and Olive’s infatuation was likely the only reason Mother Thomas hadn’t insisted Hannah find other accommodations for Birch.
“Well, I had best prepare for our evening. I want to look my best.”
“It would be difficult for you to look anything else.” An appreciative glow in his eyes belied the impersonal tone of his voice.
Heat flushed her cheeks and she turned away quickly to hide her discomfiture. He was polite and gallant, nothing more. Not that she wanted anything more. He was a Tory of the worst stripe. She hurried up the steps to her room.
Her bedroom faced south so the lights could be seen. They twinkled brightly in the approaching gloom of twilight. She just hoped they stayed that way. She turned away and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother-in-law had always insisted any family dinners be attended in full formal dress, not casual undress. Hannah had only one such outfit. Today Hannah’s undress consisted of the usual skirt and jumps with the pinafore over it. What would Mother Thomas do if she arrived like this? Hannah smiled at the thought.
She disrobed and put on her stays. Wouldn’t Mother Thomas be shocked to know she did not wear them all the time? She would have said she was no better than a servant. And that is what Hannah felt like sometimes. A servant to the light. At first she had tried to always wear the stays as Mother Thomas expected but soon found it impossible to bend to clean and perform her daily duties. Her mother-in-law had servants to do her bidding.
She opened her wardrobe and pulled out her green sacque. It was much too grand for the evening, but John had insisted on buying it for her right after they were wed. She only wore it to the big house. John had seen her in it but a few times. The gray-green color enhanced the green of her eyes, and she loved the gown. But she always felt like an imposter in it. She pulled tendrils of hair down and curled them with the hot tongs, then reddened her cheeks and lips slightly with rouge. She glanced in the mirror once more, then nodded. She would not disgrace herself.
Lydia and Birch were waiting in the hall beside the fireplace when she descended the stairs. Lydia looked lovely. Her golden hair was a riot of curls, and her blue caraco gown deepened her blue eyes to indigo. Birch looked splendid. Hannah had cut apart some of John’s clothes and stitched them to fit him. The dark-blue frock coat over his breeches and waistcoat fit his broad shoulders to perfection. She’d cut a slit in the leg of the breeches for his splinted leg.
Lydia tapped Hannah’s arm with her fan. “Shall we get this over with?”
Birch picked up his crutches and waved one in the air. “I think the carriage is outside. I heard it a few minutes ago.”
It was kind of Mother Thomas to send the carriage for them. Olive probably had something to do with it. Birch hopped along with the aid of his crutches through the doorway and to the door of the carriage where Nate, the driver, helped him ascend, then assisted the ladies.
Candles shone from the windows as Nate helped them down. Hannah led the way inside. The aroma of roast pork made her mouth water, and she realized how hungry she was.
“Ah, my dear daughter. How lovely you look.” Mother Thomas came toward her with outstretched arms.
Hannah allowed the kiss and placed one of her own on her mother-in-law’s powdered cheek. Olive, already beginning to simper, approached Birch. What would they say if she announced that he was a Tory? She had kept quiet on that point as she wanted to avoid as much conflict as possible. But Olive would never be allowed to pursue a loyalist. One mention of Birch’s true political views, and her mother would order a halt to her flirtation.
The maid ushered them into the parlor where they had tea before supper. Olive sat much too close to Birch, and even the dim candlelight did not hide the overzealous use of rouge or the gleam in her eyes. Hannah suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long night.
At supper they ate three courses of meat and several vegetables followed by cake. It was nearly nine by the time they finished eating. Hannah kept waiting for the reason for the invitation, but it did not come until they were back in the parlor.
“Olive, dear, take Lydia and Hannah to see the new kittens in your room,” Mother Thomas said. “I have some business to discuss with Captain Meredith.”
Hannah looked at her sharply but could do nothing but obey her edict. Olive appeared excited and flustered as she led them up the steps. Hannah wanted to ask Olive about the private interview but wasn’t quite sure how to couch the question. She followed Olive’s swishing skirts.
Lydia stopped at the top of the stairs and took Olive’s arm. “What is going on? I refuse to go another step until you explain.”
Olive smiled, and her plain face was almost attractive. “Mother is proposing a match between me and the captain.”
Hannah’s stomach clenched until she felt almost physically sick. With something akin to horror, she realized she’d come to think of the handsome captain as her own property. This wave of jealousy was unaccustomed and unwelcome. She had no business having any feelings for a Tory.
CHAPTER 7
Birch leaned against the back of the sofa and looked at his hostess with expectation. He had to admit he was a bit curious about the elder Mrs. Thomas’s business. He could not think of any business venture she might propose. And truth to tell, he could not imagine any business that would entice him to
enter a close relationship with this woman.
Pride and haughtiness emanated from her like the whiff of a rose sachet that came through when he was close to her. Her clothing was of the finest quality, and the furnishings of the home whispered money and privilege. He had no patience for such as her. Mrs. Thomas would be one who would not listen to a partner about anything. But he would do her the courtesy of listening before gracefully refusing her offer, though only for Hannah’s sake.
“Tea, Captain?” His hostess smiled as though she were an unwed maid of twenty instead of a dowager with sagging jowls and a body running quickly to corpulence.
Birch gave her a perfunctory smile and took the proffered cup of tea. He wanted to tell her to get to the point. His leg ached, and he desperately longed for the hearth of the lighthouse, which felt like home. Funny how the little saltbox home on the cliff had so quickly become a sanctuary for him. Because of Hannah.
Mrs. Thomas smiled and settled her considerable girth into the chair opposite him. “Tell me, Captain, have you thought of taking a wife? The proper maid could add a lot to your comfort.” She spoke with confidence as though she knew he would never have the temerity to refuse her suggestions.
So that was where this was headed. He kept his expression impassive. He felt sorry for Olive, but if he ever wed it would be to someone with fire and a passion for adventure to match his own. He was no stay-at-home man, but an adventurer and soldier. He wanted no clinging violet to tie him down. He took another sip of tea and considered how best to extricate himself.
“I am not in a position to take a wife now, ma’am. My duties will soon call me away, and a merchant’s wife endures a lonely life unless she is brave enough to travel the seas with her husband.” He thought that would quickly rule out Olive as a life partner.
Mrs. Thomas dabbed her lips with her hanky. “All the more reason to choose someone of wealth and stature in the community, my dear Captain. With sound financial backing you could expand your ventures and soon be in a position to take your place with other leaders. I propose to bestow my daughter, Olive, upon you with a generous dowry to help you regain all that you lost when your ship was destroyed.”
The woman didn’t take no for an answer. Even a tempting dowry couldn’t compensate for being tied to a woman who bored him. For a moment an image of Hannah with her flashing green eyes and dark curls blazed through his mind. Her eyes were nearly the color of the inlet along the shore. With her in his arms, a man wouldn’t mind giving up the restless ocean.
Ridiculous. She made no secret of her contempt for him. Would she still feel that way if she knew he worked secretly for the revolution instead of for England? He would never know. Nothing would cause him to betray his secret.
He forced himself to smile at Mrs. Thomas. “I thank you kindly for the offer, ma’am, but I fear I must decline. I hold Miss Olive in the highest regard, but as I said, I am in no position to take a wife right now. My life is just too unsettled.”
She frowned but then forced a smile. “I know Olive is not the most beautiful of ladies, but one should look at more than outward beauty. An alliance with the Thomas family would bring great advantages to an astute businessman. Think on my offer, Captain. You would find me a most generous mother-in-law.”
“I will do that, ma’am. But I fear I shall not change my mind. No disrespect meant to you or Olive, of course. But a wife is simply not in my plans.”
She set her jaw and nodded. “Very well then. I shall say no more of this matter.”
He heard the noise of the returning group with a sense of relief. Olive came into the parlor first. Her face eager, she glanced at her mother, and her smile faded at the pinched expression on her mother’s face. Hannah and Lydia quickly followed, and they both sent sharp glances his way. He dared a wink at Hannah, and she colored delicately.
“I must be going soon, Mother Thomas,” Hannah said. “The light calls for my attention.”
Before her mother-in-law could respond, a strange whistling sound pierced the silence. “Get down!” Birch launched his body at Hannah and bore her to the ground. A strange thunder pealed out, and the earth shook. Olive and Lydia both screamed and dove behind the sofa while Mrs. Thomas struggled to get out of her chair.
“The light! They’re firing the cannon at the light.” Hannah tried to get up.
Birch refused to release her. “There is nothing you can do. Getting yourself killed will serve no purpose.” Conscious of the softness of Hannah beneath him, he longed to release her and escape the emotions her closeness brought. To her credit, she lay quietly, her breath fanning his neck.
The bombardment continued for several long minutes, then silence fell. Even from here, Birch could smell the hot gunpowder. He cautiously raised his head, then rolled off Hannah. Her cheeks pink, she scrambled to her feet. His crutches lay cast aside a few feet away, and she gathered them up, then helped him to his feet. He took the crutches from her hand, and they exchanged a long look. Hannah was the first to look away. She turned and hurried to the door.
As soon as she opened the door, she gasped. “I can see the light from here—the lighthouse is safe! The cannonballs missed their mark.” The joy in her eyes as she glanced back at Birch warmed him. He’d never met such a brave woman. Her first thought was of the light, not her own safety. He wished General Washington knew of the dedication of this one lightkeeper. Mayhap he could tell him some day.
He and Lydia followed her outside. The smell of gunpowder was heavy in the autumn air. Olive cried and cowered still behind the sofa in spite of her mother’s commands to quit being such a ninny. Birch gladly shut the door behind him and made his way down to the shore with Lydia and Hannah. Offshore he could see the lights from two ships. One seemed to be driving off the other. Something did not seem right to him. Why didn’t the victorious ship fire on the fleeing one? He frowned.
“They are leaving.”
He squinted in the darkness. “A boat seems to be coming ashore. You will have the opportunity to thank the crew who saved your lighthouse.” He could just make out the outline of three men in the boat. Their tricorn hats pulled low on their heads, two of the men rowed against the surf while the third, seemingly impervious to the salty spray that drenched him, sat imperiously in the bow of the boat.
As soon as the boat was dragged ashore, the man in the bow stepped out and approached. Birch had just begun to make out rugged features with a square jaw and Roman nose when Lydia uttered a little shriek.
“Galen!” Lydia rushed toward the figure and threw herself into his arms.
Birch felt, rather than heard, Hannah’s soft inhalation. Tenseness emanated from her slim shoulders, and she took a step backward. He wanted to take her hand, but he knew she would never allow such familiarity.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Galen. It seems I must thank you for your work this day. My lighthouse is safe.”
She spoke the words grudgingly, and Birch wondered at her tone. He had never known her to be ungrateful. And it wasn’t just ingratitude in her voice. She bit her lip and wouldn’t meet Galen’s gaze.
His arm still around Lydia’s shoulders, Galen stepped nearer. “My dear Hannah. How good it is to see you again.”
Birch felt his hackles rise at the proprietary expression on Galen’s face. Who was this man? He didn’t trust his smooth smile.
Galen raised Hannah’s hand to his lips. He lingered overmuch before releasing it, and Birch could sense Hannah’s agitation. What was between her and this British officer? Was this hot knife in his belly jealousy? He didn’t care much for the feeling.
Birch forced the anger down and nodded at Galen. The other man’s amused gaze slid over him and sharpened. “Who might you be?”
Birch gave a stiff nod. “Captain Birch Meredith.”
Galen’s gaze flickered over him once more, taking in the splint and crutches. “Might we go inside, my Hannah? I have much to tell you.”
My Hannah. Birch could tell she like
d those words as little as he did, though she simply inclined her head and led them up the hillside path. The moon illuminated the rocky trail. When they reached the top, Mrs. Thomas and Olive were waiting.
When the older woman saw the uniform Galen wore, her eyes flashed. “What business do you have here on our land? We hold no love for the British.”
Galen’s face darkened, and his lip curled.
Lydia stepped forward. “Captain Meredith is a Tory as well, Mistress Thomas. You were only too eager to marry him off to Olive a few minutes ago. Galen is an old friend, and he has saved the lighthouse this day.”
Hannah gasped. “Lydia, no!”
Lydia looked back at her sister in defiance. “It’s time the truth be told, Hannah. I tire of Olive’s simpers and warm glances. Her mother would not care for a Tory as a son-in-law.”
Olive burst into tears, and Mrs. Thomas looked as though she might have apoplexy any moment. She glared at them all, but her gaze lingered on Hannah. “A Tory? You have harbored a snake in our bosom all this time? You shall not hear the end of this.” She turned and followed her daughter into the house.
Galen took Hannah’s arm to escort her down the path to her home, but she pulled away. Birch puzzled over their relationship. Galen seemed to have warmer regards for Hannah than she did for him. She seemed almost afraid of him. In the weeks he had known her, he had never seen her flinch from anything, but she seemed to almost cower in this man’s presence. Birch vowed to stay as close to her side as possible. He would not allow the man to harass her.
Lydia chattered to Galen as they picked their way down the path. Birch wished for a lantern or even just a candle to illuminate the way. Several times he nearly stumbled and fell as he tried to keep up with the rest of them. Hannah would have stopped to help him, but he refused to ask for aid. Soon he would be rid of this splint, and he could show her he was no cripple.
Hannah lit the candle just inside the door and led them all to the kitchen where she lit the lantern and began to prepare tea. Her hands trembled as she shaved tea into the caddy. Was he the only one who noticed her agitation? Lydia was obviously enamored of Galen, who was just as obviously intent upon Hannah. A strange triangle.
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