“Why not?” Eli dared her to scold him.
“Why not indeed? That seems to be your motto with most everyone these days.”
“I see no reason not to sample what’s offered. Life in the city is rather dreary when one doesn’t.”
“It didn’t seem so dreary to you before.”
He glared at her. “Do you actually expect me to—”
“I don’t, but a little discretion on your part might be best, lest you run afoul of the law or an angry husband.”
“Most of those husbands are too busy with other people’s wives to notice.”
A sharp burst of laughter nearly caused her to spill her tea. “Too true. You were saying?”
“I’d like to bring Mrs. Stephens in on our operation.”
She set her teacup down with a clatter. “Eli, really?”
“Yes. She’s been increasingly critical of His Majesty’s men over the last several weeks, and she’s agreed with every disparaging remark I’ve made. She’s made it quite clear that she feels no loyalty toward her husband’s cause, and she has access to a great deal of information.”
“What if she’s intentionally trying to draw you in?”
Eli frowned. “I have trouble imagining her involved in such a scheme. She truly hates her husband.”
“She’s also interested in rising socially here.”
He thought of what Rosemary had said, about making a name for herself. “She wants to stay in America now. She would be better off if the colonies were free.”
Constance tilted her head, seeming to think more deeply about his suggestion.
“I know it’s a risk, but so is everything else we do. I won’t mention your involvement. I’ll take the fall alone if I’m wrong.”
“Eli—”
“Think of the risk you took approaching me.”
She shook her head. “I’d seen your writing.”
“That could’ve been a ploy.”
“I suppose, but—”
“My instincts say I’m right about Mrs. Stephens.”
Constance sighed.
He took a sip of tea, allowing her a moment to think, then added, “I thought you trusted me.”
“I…did. But since Jack left you’ve been exceptionally foolhardy.”
“I can’t be expected to stay celibate. Besides, my partners have provided us with lots of information.”
“You can’t disregard your own safety.”
“You sound like Jack. Did he warn you to look after me when he was gone?”
“Yes, but I dismissed him.”
Eli huffed. “He told me to watch out for you too, you know?”
“Of course he did.” Constance refilled their cups. “Eli, I am truly worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”
“And of me, and of Mrs. Stephens, and—”
“No, I’m not like Jack. It’s best if I tend only to myself. That was working quite well before all this spy nonsense.”
“And yet you haven’t stopped collecting information.”
He stared at Constance, disliking the hell out of her for pointing that out. “I’m hoping to find a way to profit from what I know.”
Constance shook her head. “If that were true, you would’ve asked me for money long before now.”
“The next time I’m alone with Mrs. Stephens, I’m going to ask her to join us.”
“And if she’s shocked? If she turns you down?”
She wouldn’t, would she? “You really think I’m wrong on this.”
“Actually, I think you’re right, but I want to be certain you know what to do if we’ve both misjudged.”
Eli swirled the tea in his cup. “I don’t know.”
Constance patted his leg. “I appreciate your honesty, but you need a plan. You’ve got to consider what you’d do to keep her quiet.”
Eli frowned. “I’m not going to kill her.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
“I’m not going to let you kill her either.”
Constance laughed. “I’ve no intention of killing her. I would, however, pay her for her silence. I could give her enough money to run away and start over. You said that’s what she wants.”
Eli let out the breath he’d been holding. Constance had worried him for a moment. “I’m all for bribery.”
“Perhaps it’s a good thing, after all, that Jack is back with the army. He would’ve hated this plan.”
Eli tried to agree with her, but the tight feeling in his chest threatened to make him faint.
Constance shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was unkind. I only meant—”
“It’s fine. I’m going to go now.”
“Keep me informed.”
He nodded. “Always.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A few weeks later…
Eli and Rosemary stumbled into her sitting room. He pushed her gown from her shoulders as she worked the fastenings of his breeches.
“Don’t have long,” she murmured. “My husband will return soon.”
“Then let’s be quick.”
They tumbled onto the sofa. Rosemary dropped her legs open as Eli pushed up her skirts.
“Hurry,” she admonished.
“Christ, I love how much you want this.”
“You’re so damn good at fucking.”
“My ego is large enough, madam. You hardly need to stroke it.”
“That’s not all I want to stroke.” She wrapped her hand around his prick, and he groaned, pushing away all thoughts that this should be more than it was.
Rosemary worked him faster and faster, and he remembered they didn’t have much time. He slipped his hand between her legs, wanting to hurry her along as well.
“What the hell are you doing?” The words echoed through the room.
Eli froze. It was Stephens. He hadn’t even heard the door open.
“Get off my wife!” the colonel bellowed.
Regaining the power to move, Eli leapt from the sofa and pulled his breeches up.
Rosemary lay there, unmoving, fear evident on her face as she glanced back and forth between the two of them.
“Cover yourself,” Stephens ordered, grabbing Eli’s coat, the only thing available. As he threw it at her, a piece of paper fell from the pocket, the information she’d given him earlier before passion consumed them.
Eli tried to grab it, but the colonel snatched it up, his eyes widening as he saw the scribbling on it. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s nothing,” Eli said. “Just some notes I was making about my inventory.”
“This is a list of troop movements.”
“No, sir. It—”
“Close your lying mouth,” Stephens snapped. “You’ve listed ships and troops here. Rosemary, what the hell have you been telling him?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“You’re a damn traitor, not just to me, but to the king.”
“No!” she shouted. “I never—”
“She’s not involved in this,” Eli interrupted. “It’s me. All me.” He was done for, but he wouldn’t let Rosemary be harmed. “She had no idea what I was doing, no part in this.”
“No part? She’s letting you fuck her while telling you all about things that are none of her business, much less yours.” He turned to Rosemary. “How the devil did you know these figures?”
“You talk of nothing else. How would I not know them?”
“You dirty spy!” He moved to hit her, but Eli intercepted him.
“You’re wrong, sir. She’s not part of this.”
“She spread her legs for you. That makes her your whore one way or another.”
Eli punched him. Stephens reeled back, and then he came at Eli.
Eli stumbled on the edge of the rug. He tried to get his footing, but he was unprepared for the strength of the blow Stephens dealt him. He hit the wall and pain exploded on the side of his head. The world wavered. He sank to his knees and t
hen slumped to the floor as Rosemary screamed.
He wanted to reassure her, but darkness took him.
***
Rosemary watched Eli fall forward and fought back hysteria. She slid her arms into his coat and rose, pulling her dress together. “Where do you think you’re going?” her husband demanded.
“Away.”
“The hell you are. You’re a traitor, and I will see you punished.”
He opened the door and spoke to one of the soldiers who stood in the hall. Why were they there? Had he known he would catch her with Eli?
“Take him away.” He waved toward Eli’s still unconscious form.
“You’re taking him to prison? Are you not taking me as well?”
“I will not have my wife thrown in with common criminals. It is enough I have to suffer the knowledge of what you’ve done.”
She stood straight and tall, determined not to cower before him. “I thought I was to be tried for treason.”
“I said you were to be punished. I did not specify how that punishment would be meted out.”
He turned to the remaining man, who hovered in the doorway. “Make sure she stays put. No one is to enter this room. Is that clear?”
The man nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I will deal with you when I am back from finding out what else that rat has been stealing. You would do best to pray about what you’ve done while I’m gone.”
Rosemary sank onto the couch. Perhaps it was best after all to let him think he’d won. He clearly underestimated what she could do. “Yes, sir.”
He shut the door, and she heard the lock click into place.
As soon as his footsteps retreated down the stairs, she raced into her dressing room and opened her wardrobe. What she would give for a pair of trousers. Her clothes were not made for climbing from windows. She wrestled her way out of her dress and donned her riding habit, the sturdiest, least voluminous garment she owned. Then she gathered a few things: her purse with all the pin money she’d managed to save, the jewelry that had been her mother’s—she’d sell the pieces if need be—and finally, the collection of correspondence she’d stolen from her husband’s study. She’d planned to give it to Eli before he’d left that evening. When her bag was packed, she opened the window as quietly as possible and paused. Nothing indicated that the guard had heard her.
She threw one leg over the windowsill. The ground was a long way off, and the tree she’d planned to shimmy down was farther away from the window than she’d expected. There was no going back. If she fell, then so be it. If she stayed, she would be beaten and locked away at best, murdered at worst.
Taking hold of the thickest branch she could reach, she swung out, praying she’d find a secure foothold on a lower branch that was a few feet away. On the first attempt her legs didn’t reach it. She dangled far above the ground. Determined not to die, she swung herself back to the window ledge and tried again. This time her feet found purchase. Slowly she made her way to the ground. By the time she was sneaking down the road, nothing about the night seemed real anymore.
Mrs. Sullivan seemed the best person to seek aid from. Eli had not expressly stated that Mrs. Sullivan was involved in information gathering, but Rosemary was certain her suspicions about their connection were correct. Would Mrs. Sullivan acquiesce to see her? Had Eli told her Rosemary was assisting him?
Her husband would kill Eli if someone didn’t intervene. She was sure of it, and Mrs. Sullivan had power and connections. Of that she had no doubt. She’d fight her way in if she had to.
The streets were far from safe, though it was not yet late. Fortunately, Mrs. Sullivan’s mansion was quite close to her own.
A servant opened the door almost immediately after she knocked. “I must see Mrs. Sullivan right away. It’s an emergency.”
“Your card?” the man asked.
“In my haste, I didn’t think to bring any with me. My name is Rosemary Stephens. Please. A friend of Mrs. Sullivan’s is in grave danger.”
“One moment, madam.” He left her standing in the entryway. She paced, unable to stay still, barely able to keep from calling out for Mrs. Sullivan, begging her to listen.
Fortunately, the man returned before she grew that desperate.
“Come this way,” he said.
Thank God, she was not to be turned away. The man led her to a small parlor in the back of the house. Mrs. Sullivan was seated in one of two high-backed chairs near the fire.
“Good evening, Mrs. Stephens,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “Please have a seat.”
Rosemary joined her, and Mrs. Sullivan turned to her footman. “You may leave us. I will ring if I need anything.”
When the door closed behind him, Mrs. Sullivan said, “We shall skip any formalities. I want you to tell me what is going on.”
“I’m here on behalf of Mr. Ashfield. I understand that the two of you are well acquainted.”
She nodded. “We are, but why would he send you to me?”
“He has been arrested.”
“When?”
“Not an hour ago. My husband found us together. Eli had information I’d given him.” Rosemary’s heart pounded. If Mrs. Sullivan was not involved…
“Do not be afraid. I understand the business he’s involved you in.”
Rosemary nodded and continued. “Mr. Ashfield’s notes spilled from his coat. My husband saw the paper and then—”
“Where is Mr. Ashfield now?”
“I’m not sure. My husband told one of his men to take Mr. Ashfield away. I assume he was taken to one of the prisons in the city, but I don’t know which.”
“Your husband left you free, though?”
Rosemary noted the suspicion in her eyes. “Mr. Ashfield tried to convince Mr. Stephens I wasn’t involved, but my husband disbelieved him. He locked me in my room and left a soldier to guard me. I escaped out the window.”
“My heavens. Are you hurt?” Mrs. Sullivan seemed to believe her tale.
“No, but I won’t go back.”
“Do you have some place else to go?”
Rosemary would figure something out. She had to. “I have some money. I’ll leave New York and—”
Mrs. Sullivan shook her head. “You’ll stay here for now, but we’ll have to be careful not to let any of the officers who are quartered here see you.”
“But—”
Mrs. Sullivan held up a hand. “Give me a moment.” She stepped to the corner of the room and rang for a servant. A dark-skinned man appeared a few moments later.
“Laurance, I need to know if Mr. Ashfield has been imprisoned. Can you make a search?”
He bowed. “I’ll have the information for you as soon as possible, madam.”
“Thank you. That will be all.”
When he left, Rosemary said, “What will you do once you find Mr. Ashfield?”
“I have a connection who may be able to get the charges brought against Mr. Ashfield cleared. I will do everything I can to protect him. But first tell me what information you gave Mr. Ashfield.”
Rosemary handed her the piece of paper that had given them away. Fortunately, her husband had tossed it onto a table before he’d left. She also pulled the packet of her husband’s correspondence from her bag. “This is the information Mr. Ashfield copied as well as letters of my husband’s that I’d saved for him.”
Constance glanced at the figures about troop and ship movements.
“When he studied those figures, he realized something,” Rosemary said. “He said the British were going to lure Washington out so they could decimate his army and then be free and clear to head to Philadelphia.”
“Dear God. He’s right,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “It’s a trap. Once I put everything in motion to find Mr. Ashfield, I must get this information to General Washington quickly.” She rose. “I’ll have someone see you to a room.”
“I can come with you.”
Mrs. Sullivan shook her head. “No. My first mission is to a friend, one who I hope w
ill be willing to help Mr. Ashfield. I need you here because if I do not return in one hour, you must go to the rebels on your own.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Ask for Major Tallmadge. Tell them Mr. Ashfield and I sent you. They know who you are.”
“Th-they do?” Rosemary supposed she shouldn’t be shocked that they’d sent word of her service.
“Yes. A few of my men will accompany you. I will order them to pack and ready the horses before I leave.”
“Surely you’ll return safely if you are going to consult a friend?”
“He’s a loyalist. He’ll either render aid or have me arrested.”
“Oh.”
“Pray for me,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “Pray for all of us.”
“I will. I swear it.”
***
When Constance arrived at Major Randall Bradford’s door, she pulled her hood as far forward as it would go. He’d sacrificed their happiness for the sake of honor. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see her here, especially considering what she was about to ask of him.
What if he had her arrested? If she were wrong about how far he’d be willing to go for her, Eli would likely die. Even if Mrs. Stephens made it to headquarters safely, there was little chance anyone would make it to the city in time to save Eli. Was he still alive now? If they’d hanged him already, she would’ve heard, but there were quieter and worse ways to die than hanging. Stephens could’ve had him thrown on the Jersey, where he would starve to death or die of a gruesome ailment. She had no choice but to take this risk.
She knocked.
There was no answer.
She pounded harder.
Finally, she heard footsteps. Sharp, angry ones.
Randall flung the door open. “What the hell is this? I said—”
His eyes widened.
“Mrs. Sullivan?”
“May I come in, please?”
“I…” She could imagine the thoughts in his head. Did he dare allow her in? Could he resist temptation if he did? Was that why she was here?
“It’s a matter of life and death.”
Randall didn’t move, so she pushed past him.
He closed the door, locked it, and turned to face her. “Constance, I—”
She held up a hand to silence him. The fact that he used her Christian name was a good sign. He wasn’t angry, nor was he rejecting their intimacy.
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