Julian's eyes never left the slender figure in black. As rapiers clashed again and again, his admiration for the woman increased. It became apparent to him that she would soon come out the victor. What he did not know was if the contest would result in Groves's death.
Groves attacked straight on, and Lavender parried. She wielded her weapon agilely, expertly, with the grace of expert swordsmanship. She was playing with him, wearing him down. Her mind was clear, while he allowed anger to rule his thinking. With practiced ease, Lavender made the Englishman look like a bungling fool.
The blades crossed many times. Lavender would parry, and then thrust gracefully, while Groves stumbled backward, driven by the swishing blade that sang through the air like an avenging angel. The women passengers were gaping in disbelief, but even their eyes revealed the admiration they had for Lavender's master swordsmanship.
Perspiration poured from Groves's face, and his knees buckled under him. His jaw fell, his eyes widened in disbelief. How could this slender youth have beaten him? For beaten he was, he had .to admit. He had the superior strength, but it had not helped in a duel of wits and mastery. With one last effort to defend himself, he caught his opponent's forward thrust, and their rapier's locked. It was a moment of muscle against mastery. Everyone present held their breath to see who would come out winner. With a twist of her rapier handle, Lavender sent Groves's blade sailing through the air for a second time. This time her blade slashed across his chest, popping the brass buttons off his coat, one by one. When the blade came to rest against his throat, Groves's eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he stared in fright at his triumphant adversary.
"You have me, I cede!" he cried out, fearing to move an inch least the lethal blade draw blood. "You all heard me," he said in a shaky voice. "I gave ground."
Soft laughter emitted from behind the mask. "This is your lucky day, Groves. I always feel generous toward cowards and fools on Tuesdays."
"But this is not Tuesday, it's Thursday," Groves whispered fearfully.
She stabbed his wig with the end of her rapier and raised it in the air, revealing a near baldhead, with only scraggly wisps of red hair. "Thursday, you say. Well, you are still fortunate, for 1 am generous to traitors on Thursdays."
Groves fell to his knees, his eyes streaming with tears, his lips trembling. "Have mercy, sir, please, have mercy."
The young mother raised her hand to her mouth and stared at Lavender with admiration shining in her eyes. "I know who you are. You are the Swallow! Everyone admires what you have done for our country."
Lavender was silent for a moment. Apparently her disguise had not been effective, since her sex had been discovered. "I do not admit to that, madame. You have made a mistake."
The young mother's face reddened. "Oh, 1 hope I have not placed you in danger; I did not mean to give your identity away ... I was only—"
Lavender turned her gaze on Mr. Groves, hoping to discourage the young woman from further incriminating her. "Have you nothing to say in your defense, George Groves?"
The frightened man licked his lips nervously. "It was not I who took the document. I did not know it was anything of importance. You have to believe m—"
"I care not for your sniveling, sir." Lavender could feel the heat of Julian West's hot gaze, and she tried to ignore the fear he stirred in her heart. She tried to keep her attention aimed at the Englishman.
"Now that we have your name, George Groves, for your own well-being, may I suggest that you might find the climate healthier back in England."
Mr. Groves scrambled to his feet, and crammed his shaking hands into his pockets. "You ... are not going to kill me?"
Lavender tensed angrily. "As I told you before, today is your lucky day, sir, because I was given no orders to end your miserable existence. I have what I came for."
As Lavender backed toward her horse, Nicodemus motioned for the others to get back in the coach. George Groves lost no time in scampering up the two steps that took him inside.
Lavender swung herself into the saddle and watched the coachman climb up to the driver's seat and pick up the reins. The man tipped his hat and smiled at Lavender. "Had I known who you were, I would have given you no trouble. If I'd known I had an Englishman aboard today, I'd have helped you subdue him. I'll make sure he is transported to the nearest waterway and shown the way back to England. God's speed, Swallow."
Lavender raised her hand in a silent salute as the coach pulled away. Suddenly her eyes moved to Julian West, who stared at her from inside the coach. What was there about him that made her afraid? she wondered. Why did his dark eyes seem to see past her disguise and into her very soul?
As the coach rounded a bend to be hidden by the dense woods, Nicodemus mounted his horse and reined it in beside Lavender. "I take it you have what we were sent for?"
"Yes, Nicodemus, but I am sorely troubled about something."
"Do not fear that cowardly George Groves. He's afraid of his own shadow. I'm surprised the British chose a man of his cut to deliver such an important document."
"It's not him that concerns me, it's the other gentleman, Nicodemus."
"Ah, the tall, silent one. Do you think they were traveling together?"
"No, Nicodemus, but neither do I think that Julian West is from America. Unless there are two men with the name of Julian West, he is Aunt Amelia's new lodger, who claims to be from Georgia."
"That can be a stroke of bad luck," Nicodemus observed.
"Yes, and I have an ear for accents, so I could tell Mr. West is English to the bone. If he is from Georgia, then I am the Queen of France."
"Do you think he is a spy?"
"I don't know. I am only sure that he is not who he says he is."
Nicodemus's voice deepened with meaning. He knew Lavender well enough to trust her instincts. "Do you want me to make sure he don't show up in Williamsburg?"
"No, perhaps I am being overly cautious. I will have Brainard Thruston check on his background. In the meantime, we must be on guard. If he is a spy planted in our midst, we will have to calculate each move we make from here on out."
"I will be glad when the day comes that your services will no longer be needed, Lavender. You have done more than your share for liberty. I fear for you every time you are sent out on a mission."
"I admit I sometimes wish I had never been asked to play the spy, but then I remember my father's devotion to this cause. Knowing he gave his life for this country, I must do whatever I can to help."
"I don't think your father would approve of your placing your life in jeopardy."
Lavender remembered back to the night her father had been wounded and she had gone to Yorktown in his place. He had been filled with remorse when he learned of the danger she had faced and had begged her forgiveness for allowing her to go on such a perilous mission.
"Perhaps my father would not have approved of what I am doing, Nicodemus, but I believe he would have understood why I am doing it."
"I don't like you being involved in this business today, it's too dangerous. I intend to inform Brainard Thruston that the next time he needs someone to detain a coach, to get someone else."
The first drops of rain began to fall, and Lavender placed the precious document inside her cape so it wouldn't get wet. "It's over with, Nicodemus, and we were successful. I suggest we leave now and take the shortcut through the woods so we can make it home before Mr. Julian West arrives."
Half an hour later, Lavender and Nicodemus rode into the stables behind the hospital to find Forbes and his wife Sarah waiting anxiously for their arrival. No one would suspect Mr. and Mrs. Duncan of being spies, because they looked like everyone's kindly grandparents. Perhaps that was why they had been placed in the hospital as Lavender's contacts.
Sarah placed her arms around Lavender and led her into an empty horse stall, while Duncan and Nicodemus kept watch to make sure no one disturbed her while she dressed. "I declare, you are soaked to the skin. Here," Sarah said, handing L
avender something to dry with. "Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death."
Sarah was always astounded at the change that manifested when Lavender switched from the garments of the Swallow to the dark gowns she always wore as Lavender Daymond. As the Swallow, she was assured, confident, and bold. But as Lavender, she became unobtrusive and somehow withdrawn. Gone was the sparkle to her eyes, and she appeared almost plain when she covered her golden hair with the stiff white cap and put on her spectacles.
In spite of the warmth of the day, Lavender felt chilled to the bone. "Have Forbes rub the horses down, since they were out in the rain for a long time."
"I will tell him," Sarah said, hooking Lavender's gown up the back. "Was your mission successful?"
Lavender placed the documents in the older woman's hand. "Yes. You must see that this gets to Brainard Thruston as soon as possible."
Sarah clung to the document as if it were something very precious. "Is this really the Declaration of Independence?"
"Yes, one of the original copies." She pushed her feet into her shoes and buckled them. "I would also like you to tell Brainard that I want him to check on someone for me. The man's name is Julian West, and he claims to be from Georgia, but somehow I don't believe he is." Sarah nodded. "I will pass on your message." As Lavender twisted her wet hair into a knot and secured it to the back of her head, she told Sarah about the afternoon adventure. Then, handing her sodden clothing to Sarah, she moved to the front of the stable. "I must hurry home because the stage should be arriving within an hour. I want to be at the house to receive Mr. West when he arrives."
Lavender carried her aunt's tray up the stairs and quietly opened the bedroom door to find Amelia Daymond sitting up in bed, working on her mending. Amelia was not a handsome woman. She was big-boned, with heavy brows and deep-set eyes. Very few times had Lavender seen her aunt's face softened by a smile, and never had she heard her aunt laugh aloud.
"Don't dawdle, child," Amelia said in an irritated voice. "Come on and show me what you have on that tray."
"I brought you something to drink, Aunt Amelia. I know how much you miss your afternoon tea, so I had Mrs. Spencer blend several herbs and spices for a most pleasing drink."
Amelia watched her niece place the tray across her lap. "1 am not a fool, Lavender, there can be no substitute for tea."
"If you could just taste it," Lavender urged, breathing in the pleasant clove-flavored aroma, "you might be pleasantly surprised."
"Have you tasted it?"
"Indeed I have."
"And?"
"I found it very pleasing, but you must try it for yourself and draw your own conclusions," Lavender said encouragingly.
Amelia lifted the steaming aromatic cup to her lips and took a reluctant sip. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she placed the cup on the tray so forcefully it splashed over the side. "Take this away at once, and in the future kindly refrain from trying your concoctions on me."
Lavender picked up the tray and crossed the floor, feeling dejected. She tried so hard to please her aunt, and yet nothing she did seemed to work. Pausing at the door, she turned. "I will bring your dinner later, Aunt Amelia. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"
"No, nothing. Did the post come today?"
"Yes, there was just an invitation to a dance at the Eldridges' next month."
"I suppose you will return it with your regrets?"
"Yes, I will." Lavender knew it would not be wise to go to a party where she would be seen by so many people. Besides, it would not be fun to go to a party where she would have to deliberately appear drab.
Her aunt sighed. "I might have guessed you would not want to go. Was there no letter from your brother?"
"No, not today."
Amelia waved her niece away. "Leave me then. I just want to be alone for a while."
"I will return later, Aunt Amelia. If there is anything you wish, you have only to ring the hand bell and 1 will hear you." Amelia again took up her mending, ignoring Lavender, who moved out the door, closing it softly behind her.
Thunder shook the foundation of the house, while lightning streaked across the sky. A heavy rain pelted the roof as Lavender descended the stairs. She walked across the hall, realizing she would get soaked when she went to the kitchen at the back of the house. Hearing the loud rapping on the front door, she placed the tray on the hall table and hurried to answer it. How could she have forgotten that Julian West was arriving this afternoon? She patted her hair into place and opened the door, managing to look startled to see the man standing there. She had to pretend not to know who he was.
Julian stared at the plain young woman who stood in the doorway. "It took you long enough to answer my knock, ma'am. Do you expect me to stand out here all day in the rain?" His voice sounded irritated, and Lavender knew she must play the part of a shy little bird, when inside anger burned at this man's highhanded manner.
"I do not know you, sir. Did you want something?" Her eyes wavered and she dipped into a curtsy, hoping he would see nothing in her that would remind him of the slender youth he had encountered earlier in the afternoon.
Rain ran off the side of his hat and trickled down his shoulder. He was not in the best of moods and was not accustomed to seeing to his own comfort—others had always done that for him. "Were you not expecting me, ma'am?"
"I do not know. Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself, then I might know if you are expected."
With a growl of impatience, Julian pushed the door wider and stepped inside. He paid little heed to the woman as he removed his wet hat and slapped it against his thigh. "I am Julian West. You must have received my letter."
She pretended to be startled. "Oh, yes, Mr. West. I am so sorry. Please forgive me, but you see, since you did not introduce yourself, how could I know who you are?"
Julian stared at the young woman trying to see if she was indeed sorry, or if she were mocking him, as her tone of voice indicated. No, she was a shy creature who probably jumped at shadows. Her hair was parted in the middle and pulled back in a tight little bun. Her eyes appeared dull behind the eyeglasses she wore. "Am I to assume that I am speaking to the mistress of the house, Miss Amelia Daymond?"
"No. Unfortunately she is too ill to receive you at this time. If you will allow it, I will show you to your rooms and see that you are made comfortable."
"I trust Miss Daymond suffers from nothing serious." The words sounded more mechanical than concerned.
"No, she will be up in a few days."
"Since you are obviously in charge, will you see that a bath is prepared? I will take dinner in my room, since I have correspondence to attend to." He was thoughtful for a moment. "I would like pheasant and fruit if available. I have my own stock of wine and brandy, which will be delivered later."
Lavender's eyes flashed like fire. She had to war within herself to beat down her rebellious streak. There was something about this man that put her on the defensive. How arrogant he was. Did he think he could come into this house and demand to be treated like an honored guest? Did he think she was his servant, whose only duty was to do his bidding? She drew in her breath, knowing it was essential that she appear meek and submissive.
"I will see that Jackson prepares the bath for you, and I will ask Phoebe to bring your dinner to you tonight. However, in the future you will take your meals in the dining room. I can manage the fruit, but I fear we have no pheasant—I trust chicken will suffice?" She kept her voice on an even tone and her eyes downcast so he would not see the anger that burned there. "Those are the rules as they have been laid down by the mistress of the house."
Julian looked down at the puddle of water that had dripped from his boots. "Does your mistress instruct you to be discourteous to her paying guests? Does she tolerate such behavior from a servant?"
Lavender raised her eyes against his haughty glare. "I am not a servant, sir," she murmured, knowing she had been disrespectful and her aunt would not appro
ve. "I am Miss Lavender Daymond, niece to your landlady."
Suddenly, to her surprise, his eyes twinkled with humor and his lips twitched. "Forgive me, Miss Daymond, but your black gown and the way you were dressed—I am sorry if I mistook you for the maid."
She was aware that his eyes moved over her from head to foot, with a glance that seemed to see beneath her gown. "Think nothing of it, sir, it was an honest mistake. My black gown is worn in mourning for my father's passing." She thought she would scream if he didn't stop staring at her. "Have you no trunks?" she managed to say.
"I could find no one who would bring me here, so I left my belongings at Campbell's Tavern."
She glanced at his sodden clothing with new understanding. "Do you mean that you walked all the way here in the rain?"
Julian was growing more impatient with the woman by the minute. "I saw no other alternative open to me."
"Please follow me, and I will show you to your rooms. Jackson will fetch your baggage while you bathe."
Lavender was more sure than ever that this man was not what he seemed. By the way he had barked orders at her, she could tell he was accustomed to having everyone jump at his command. She decided to find out what he was doing in Williamsburg.
"It is not often we have travelers from Georgia stopping by. Do you have business in Williamsburg?"
"I am an artist by profession, and have come to paint the landscape."
By now they had reached the rooms he would be using and Lavender opened the door for him to proceed her inside. "An artist? Well, you have come to the right place, Mr. West. Virginia is lovely in the springtime."
She noticed that it had stopped raining, and she moved to the window and opened it a crack to allow the breeze to circulate. "You have three rooms," she pointed out. "Here you have the bedroom and a dressing room. Through the door at the end of the hallway you will find a room perfect for a studio since it catches the morning sunlight."
Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) Page 6