“Ah, I see,” said Alex.
She hid her disappointment by refilling his mug, even though he had drunk no more than a couple of swallows.
“Is he…” the captain paused as though considering his question. “Is he the one for whom you wait, the reason why you are in no hurry to leave Philadelphia?”
“No, no,” Alex assured him, knowing those keen eyes would detect the flush on her cheeks as she set his mug in front of him. “He is just a friend who I haven’t heard from, and I wondered what might have become of him.”
Captain Hamilton smiled. “Well, if everything I have been told about the man is true, I am sure he is well, and you have nothing to worry about.”
At last, when they had had their fill, Captain Hamilton stood, and all his men rose with him. As they filed out the tavern door to their waiting horses, he turned toward her.
“You will leave shortly after we depart?” He eyed her again as though he didn’t quite trust her to follow his orders as willingly as his men did.
“Yes, of course, I will. I have a few personal items to collect, and I will be off. My cousins are not far, and I know a way that is well secluded. I will be perfectly safe.”
“Very well, then. May God…and the chevalier keep you,” he said with a grin, before settling his hat on his head and leaving the way he had come.
Chapter Nineteen
After Captain Hamilton and his men left, Alex busied herself in the kitchen, scrubbing the empty pewter bowls in an oak washtub. Outside the tavern windows, the streets rang with the sounds of Philadelphians fleeing the city.
Cartwheels creaked and groaned as they passed, laden down with a lifetime of possessions and pulled by whatever tired ox or horse the family still owned. A baby’s wail pierced the din, followed by the voice of a harried mother admonishing her older children to keep up.
Minute after minute, hour after hour, the steady stream of people paraded past the tavern, but not one came through her doors. Alex finished the dishes and wiped down the already clean tables in the taproom. Then, with nothing else to do, she sat and waited.
She drummed her fingers on the table where Reid, Josh, Beau and the chevalier had sat so often making plans. Had they foreseen the events of the past few days? Had they made plans for what to do in the event the British invaded Philadelphia? She wished she had been more attentive and asked more questions. Since her parents’ death, she had turned her tavern into her own personal cocoon and isolated herself inside. It had left her ignorant and ill prepared to face reality on her own.
The sound of people and animals faded and then disappeared altogether. Now, only the chirping of crickets broke the silence, as if she were the last Philadelphian left in the city.
Except for the Tories, she reminded herself. Some of Philadelphia’s citizens were vocal supporters of England. Many more, like Nathanial, were not as outspoken with their support, but would likely welcome the King’s men when they entered the city.
While this portion of the population slept, they posed no danger to her. But if they awoke in the morning and found the sister of Reid Turner still in the city, her safety was far from assured. Of course, her life could be forfeited if she were still here when the British arrived.
She stopped drumming her fingers and listened for the sound of a passing cart, a horse, or even a footstep. Silence filled every corner of the tavern. She knew the time drew near for her to flee into the night with her fellow citizens.
Captain Hamilton had said the British could be in Philadelphia within hours, and it had already been at least six since he had departed with his men. She had promised him she would leave, but she had also made another promise, one, which in her mind, trumped all others. She had promised Mont Trignon she would wait for him at the tavern.
He said he would return for her, but that had been yesterday. Perhaps something more urgent, more dire, had drawn him away from the city. It didn’t feel right to hold him to his end of the bargain if it meant compromising his mission.
Alex stood, strode to the hearth, and stared into the glowing embers of a dying fire. She would wait a little longer.
The tavern doors flew open, making her heart dance.
“Alexandra, thou art still here?”
“Nathanial?”
He was the last person she had expected to see, as it had been weeks since their last encounter. Not that it had weighed heavily on her mind, but she had drawn the conclusion he had heard of her involvement with Mont Trignon and had given up on his quest to marry her.
Tonight, however, even his company would be a welcome relief from the sense of abandonment threatening to consume her.
“Nathanial, what are you still doing here? Haven’t you heard the British are marching toward Philadelphia as we speak?”
“Yes, of course, I have.” His eyes were hard and his voice condescending. “I saw the light in thy tavern, and I thought to see if thou had been foolish enough to stay as well.”
“I was…waiting for someone.”
“Ah, yes, thy lover.” He spat the words as though they tasted foul. “There was a time that I would have been within my rights to kill thee for that.”
She studied his face. He sounded so full of bravado, but there was an underlying whine to his voice. She had hurt him.
“Nathanial, you never owned me. We weren’t even officially betrothed,” she said, her voice gentle.
Nathanial opened his mouth to reply, but the doors flew open again, and Angelina blew in, dead leaves clinging to her tousled hair.
She glanced about with wild eyes. “Alex, can you hide me?”
“Angelina, what in heaven’s name is the matter?”
“Mrs. Montgomery,” she gasped, reaching for Alex’s hand. “She is after me.”
“After you?” She tried to yank her hand away, but Angelina held it in a white-knuckled grip.
“Yes, she thinks I am a spy.”
“Are you?” Alex asked.
“Well, yes,” Angelina replied. Her gaze darted about the room as though she were looking for cover. “But not for the English. We suspected Colonel Montgomery of sharing troop movements with the rebels, so I was assigned to him.”
“Assigned? By whom?” Alex yanked her hand away and took a step back.
“I never know. I mean I have my contact of course, but he’s not the one who makes the decisions. He just relays my orders.” She leveled a narrow-eyed stare at Nathanial.
“Is the colonel a traitor?” Alex sank into a chair. Had they been fooled by his buffoonish innocence?
She shook her head. “No, it appears not, but we have no time to talk,” she said, her voice rising with every syllable. “You have to hide me.”
“Because Mrs. Montgomery thinks you are a spy?”
“No, because I am going to kill her,” Mrs. Montgomery said, striding through the door carrying a small pistol in her hand.
Angelina whirled to face her, and Alex rose to stand beside Angelina.
“I knew one tramp would seek the protection of another,” Mrs. Montgomery said, her sneer stretching the skin of her thin lips.
“Who are you, boy?” Mrs. Montgomery said, turning a piercing gaze on Nathanial, her gray eyes glittering like cut stones in her hard face.
“I am Nathanial Brown,” he said, lifting his chin.
Alex could have applauded him. Even though she knew he had to be frightened, his haughty tone hid it well. Of course, he did not have a pistol pointed at him.
“Why haven’t you fled with the rest of the traitors?” Mrs. Montgomery asked.
“Traitors?” Alex whispered to Angelina, but received no reply.
“Because I am no traitor,” he explained. “I welcome British rule back to our city, and I am looking forward to having order restored.”
“Humph,” Mrs. Montgomery replied. She narrowed her eyes and considered him. Nathanial’s pretentious shell never cracked under the intensity of her gaze. “Very well, then,” she said at last.
; “Is Mrs. Montgomery the source of the leak?” Alex asked, in a low whisper.
“I always told Reid he should give you more credit for being the brains in the family,” Angelina muttered.
“What is thy plan?” Nathanial asked.
“I plan to hold the pretty one for the British. They know how to deal with spies and traitors.”
“I think she means you,” Alex whispered.
“You can do whatever you want with the wench,” Mrs. Montgomery continued.
“And that would be me,” Alex mumbled.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Angelina giggled and squeezed Alex’s hand.
“I wouldn’t dirty my hands with the whore,” Nathanial said, but Alex knew him well enough to see the uncertainty lying just below the surface.
Nathanial may have finally chosen sides, but it hadn’t cured him of his aversion to violence. She could see it in the way his gaze darted about the room and the slight tremble in his lower lip.
His bluster about killing her when he had first come in had been all pretense. No matter how angry, Nathanial wouldn’t hurt a fly. Maybe he had actually thought they were betrothed, or maybe some part of him realized she never really intended to marry him. Either way, Alex knew she had wounded him deeply by what he considered her betrayal.
But still, she wondered what had brought him to the tavern tonight. Had he simply been curious when he saw her lamps still lit? Or had he been concerned for her safety? Perhaps he really had held some affection for her. She prayed he still did because, at the moment, he looked to be their best hope, perhaps their only hope.
“That’s fine. The British will be just as happy to hang two spies as one. Boy, find me some rope.”
Nathanial jumped and scurried to Alex’s supply room. Within minutes, he returned carrying a coil of stout rope.
He drew back when Mrs. Montgomery tried to hand him her pistol. With a sneer, she held onto the gun and snatched the coil of rope from his hands.
Slapping the rope onto a table, and still pointing her pistol at Alex and Angelina, she managed to place two chairs back to back.
“Tie them up!” she demanded, pulling out a chair and taking a seat so she faced the two women.
Once again, Nathanial did as instructed. Alex decided she might have misjudged his motives earlier, for she sucked in a breath between clenched teeth when he yanked her arms behind her chair and wound the rope around them several times before knotting it. She tried wriggling her wrists but winced as the rope bit into her skin.
“Now, gag them!” Mrs. Montgomery said, waving her pistol.
Nathanial looked around for something with which to silence the two women. Eyeing their neckerchiefs, he hesitated then scanned the room.
Alex cringed when he discovered two well-used bar towels lying on a table. Her eyes smarted, and she blinked away tears as he forced one rancid towel between her teeth and winced when he yanked the knot behind her head. Angelina retched as he did the same to her.
“Now, we wait,” Mrs. Montgomery said.
She must have deemed Nathanial an ally, for she paid little attention to him as he roamed the tavern. Alex scowled despite the gag. He had performed his services well enough to earn the old lady’s trust.
After pacing back and forth in front of the door for a few minutes, Nathanial went into the kitchen and helped himself to a bowl of stew. Then he snatched a pewter mug from the shelf and drew himself some ale.
Alex had never seen Nathanial drink before, but he downed his mug of ale like a man dying of thirst.
Nathanial drew another mug but set it beside his bowl without taking a drink. Then, as though he had forgotten an item, he strode to the hearth that dominated the room. As he passed, Mrs. Montgomery moved out of his way, but gaze fixated on her prisoners, she paid little heed to the restless young man.
Alex followed him with her eyes, trying to remain expressionless as Nathanial plucked an ornate pewter platter from over the fireplace. He strode toward Mrs. Montgomery, who turned toward the sound of his footsteps just as Nathanial swung. The platter caught the old woman in the temple, and she dropped to the floor like a dead goose.
“May God forgive me,” he said, crossing over to Alex and Angelina.
His hands shook as he removed Alex’s gag first.
“Did you kill her?” Alex asked, in a tremulous voice.
It had been the wrong question to ask. Nathanial’s lips turned almost as white as his cheeks, as though he hadn’t considered the possibility. Only Angelina’s exasperated, muffled oaths brought him back to the present, and he undid her gag.
“Who cares if you did,” she said, once he freed her of the foul rag.
“Alexandra, I will not apologize for needing to gag thee and tie thee up like this,” Nathanial said, as he returned to work the knots binding their hands together. “Thou brought all of this on thyself. If thou didn’t associate with the likes of her,” he said, glaring at Angelina who glared right back, “then thou would not be in this predicament now.
“And furthermore, thou see what thy lust for the chevalier has gotten thee.”
“Lust?” Angelina said, with a toothy grin and a cocked eyebrow. “Why, Alex, I never thought you had it in you. Of course, he is something to lust after, I suppose.”
Mont Trignon emerged from the shadows to loom behind Nathanial’s squatting form, his sword drawn back and across his body, poised to strike Nathanial with the ornate silver handle.
“No!” Alex screamed, shaking the rafters with her voice.
He turned his eyes to her, his body frozen in a state of suspended animation.
Nathanial ceased working on her ropes and fell back with a thump on the wooden planks. He stared up at Mont Trignon like a rabbit frozen in fear.
“We are all right,” Alex said, in a steadier voice.
He dropped his sword arm but eyed Nathanial with a murderous gleam in his eyes, his lips set in a tight grimace.
Alex managed to wiggle a hand free and pointed at the woman who lay slumped on the floor.
“She’s the real villain. She planned to hold Angelina for the British and figured she would add me in the bargain.”
Mont Trignon eyed his unconscious landlady. “Madame Montgomery,” he stated, sticking his sword back in the scabbard hanging from his belt.
“Nathanial saved us,” Alex said, pulling away the heavy rope binding her and Angelina about their midsection.
Mont Trignon reached a hand down to the young man cowering at his feet. Nathanial, his face still ashen, allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and nearly toppled over in the other direction with the force of Mont Trignon’s assistance.
“I owe you a debt of gratitude,” Mont Trignon said, steadying him.
Before Nathanial could respond, the door burst open, and Reid strode in. He eyed Mrs. Montgomery’s inert form and then looked at Mont Trignon.
“You couldn’t wait for me, could you?”
“It was not I who dispatched Madame Montgomery,” Mont Trignon said, shaking his head.
“Angelina?” Reid asked, eyeing her with an appreciative gleam in his eye.
“Wasn’t me,” she said.
Reid looked at Alex but didn’t say anything. Then he turned to the Nathanial. “You didn’t kill her, did you?”
Nathanial sunk into the wooden chair Angelina had just vacated.
Then Mrs. Montgomery groaned, and Reid added with a shrug, “Oh well, maybe next time.”
His grin widened when Nathanial’s pale face blanched even further.
Angelina strode to the bar where Nathanial had left his stew and full mug of ale. She grabbed the ale and brought it to him. “Here. Drink this. You’ll feel better in no time.”
To Alex’s surprise, Nathanial downed only the second mug of ale she had ever seen him drink, even dribbling a small stream down his chin in his haste. When he set the empty mug down with a thump and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, the color had returned to his cheeks.
> As the tension eased from the room, Alex turned to Mont Trignon. “Thank you for coming back for me.” Then she turned to her brother and smiled. “And, Reid, I can’t believe you came for me as well,” she said.
“Actually, I didn’t,” he said, with a grin. “I came back for her.”
With one arm, he scooped Angelina around the waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her. Angelina returned his kiss in equal measure.
Alex glanced at Mont Trignon, expecting to see a smile of smug satisfaction. After all, he had already seen what Alex had failed to recognize for more than a decade.
However, Mont Trignon’s lips were compressed into a thin line as he eyed the tavern door.
He cleared his throat. “I hate to break this up, but my sources tell me the British will be here soon. We must leave.”
He turned to Nathanial who slumped in his chair, staring at the wooden floor. “You are welcome to come with us, Monsieur.”
It took Nathanial a moment to realize he had been spoken to. Once he did, he stood, straightening his spine while he tugged at the hem of his shirt. Alex smiled. The Nathanial she knew had returned.
“I will do no such thing. I welcome the British…” his explanation trailed off when his gaze turned to the four pairs of eyes glaring at him. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I have business in Philadelphia that requires me to stay, but I will not detain you.”
“As though he could,” Reid muttered.
“Very well,” Mont Trignon said, reaching out a hand toward Nathanial who took it after a moment’s hesitation.
“But what will we do with her?” Alex asked, nodding toward Mrs. Montgomery who hadn’t made a sound since her first and last groan.
“Alas, I only have room for one woman on my horse,” Mont Trignon said.
Alex had a feeling that had been an attempt at levity, but the stern look on his face told her he wasn’t in his usual jovial mood. Although Reid and Angelina were still giggling and carrying on, he kept his eyes trained on the tavern door. Alex wondered just how far away from Philadelphia the British really were.
“But she is the source of the leaks,” Alex protested.
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