A woman who loved without measure.
The lure of home, family, love, and a pair of luminous turquoise eyes made all the things he had sought for his entire life seem suddenly unimportant—trite. He would give up all the fortune and titles in the world, even the throne of England itself, to make Rose his wife.
Later that night Alex squeezed between two seamen and lowered himself to a rock before the blazing fire—one of many that dotted the landscape. The boldness of his countrymen! Setting up camp so brazenly in the middle of their enemy’s land. As if the Americans hadn’t the wit or the bravado to attack them. Quite astonishing. Yet hadn’t Alex been a willing participant in that enormous British ego most of his life?
The seamen and marines under Alex’s command greeted him as they dipped bread into the stew filling their tin plates. The scent of beef and unwashed men swirled about his nose, and he grabbed his own plate, hoping his appetite had returned. But the sounds of the men slopping their grub reminded him of Prinney, and sorrow clamped over his heart once again. He set the plate down.
He wanted to leave. Find his way back to Rose’s farm. Tell her he loved her. Become an American. But he must be careful. The countryside was flooded with British soldiers on high alert. If he were caught, he’d be put in irons and sent back to his ship. If the Americans caught him before he could explain, they’d shoot him on the spot. He couldn’t risk it. The best strategy would be to wait until they spotted the American army. Then he could slip away in the night, white flag in hand, and report to their commanding officer. But so far, they’d not spotted a single American troop.
He gazed across the dark night to a field dotted with white canvas tents that reminded him of a fleet of ships at sea. But where was General Ross leading this fleet? Alex had sent one of his own men, Mr. Glasson, to loiter about Ross’s quarters and glean what information he could about the general’s objective.
And there Mr. Glasson came now, emerging from the crowd of soldiers milling about the camp as he rushed to their small group. He knelt beside them, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I found out what you asked, Mr. Reed. I ran into Lieutenant Scott, one of Admiral Cochrane’s men.”
“So, where are we heading?” One of the men asked before he took a swig of water.
“Tomorrow we march into Washington.” Mr. Glasson smiled and rubbed his hands together. “To burn her to the ground.”
CHAPTER 24
Rose knelt beside the pigsty and eased her hand through the wooden posts. Prinney waddled toward her, snorting and grunting in glee. Memories drifted across her mind, of Alex’s face twisting in indignation when he’d discovered whom she’d named her favorite pig after. A traitorous smile lifted her lips. The first in days. Three days, in fact, since she’d last seen Alex in the gardens of the Fountain Inn. That entire evening seemed like a dream to her now. Like one of those mystical childhood fairy tales where the prince arrives at the ball and sweeps the princess off her feet. Only to be separated later by some evil wizard.
Which was a perfect description of Mr. Snyder.
Thank goodness the laudanum Noah had slipped into his drink had befogged his faculties enough to give her and Alex time to say good-bye one last time. That Alex had risked so much to see her softened the blow of his leaving. He loved her. Then why did he have to leave at all? Perhaps, he just didn’t love her enough.
She ran her fingers over Prinney’s rough hide. The pig nuzzled against her hand. “At least I still have you, Prinney.”
He grunted in return, encouraging his fellow pigs to join in the chorus.
Rose stood, pressed a hand on her back and glanced over the farm. The noon sun capped the field in a bright bowl of glistening light, transforming ordinary green into emerald, browns into copper, and yellows into saffron. Even her ripe tomatoes sparkled like rubies. A light breeze, plump with the scent of cedar, hay, and horseflesh, stirred the tall grass into swirling eddies of green and gold. Chickens crowded around the hem of her gown. Grabbing a handful of dried corn from the bucket, she scattered it across the dirt. The birds clucked and flapped and strutted back and forth, snatching up the tiny seeds.
Picking up the bucket, Rose headed toward the barn. Even the beauty of this place could not penetrate the fortress of gloom around her heart. She already missed Alex so much, she had no idea how she would endure the rest of her life without him.
Wind whipped through the barn doors, tossing loose strands of her hair into her eyes and blinding her for a moment. Groping her way to Liverpool’s stall, she brushed the curls from her face.
And ran straight into a man.
Rose screamed and leaped back. Mr. Snyder stood before her, cane planted in the dirt, and a look of deviant fury warping his face.
Terror gripped her. Her aunt and uncle had left for Washington DC the day before. Cora and Amelia had gone to town on errands, and Mr. Markham was no doubt asleep in the parlor. “What are you doing here?”
A caustic smile twisted his lips. “To inform you, my dear, that I know what you and your friends did. Malicious and traitorous gnats. I should have you all arrested.”
Annoyance swept her fear aside. “Why don’t you then?”
He shook his head and stepped toward her. “You think you have won, Miss McGuire, but you have not.” He grinned. “You will still marry me”—he clipped her chin between his thumb and forefinger—“or I will inform General Smith that you harbored a British naval officer in your home for weeks.” His bergamot cologne stung her nose.
“I beg you to do so, sir.” Rose snatched her chin from his fingers and thrust her nose into the air. “You have no proof and Alex … Mr. Reed is gone.”
“Ah yes, gone back to join the troops who attack us daily. Why, in fact, your beloved naval officer may be at this very moment marching into a trap.”
Rose stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Victory flashed across Mr. Snyder’s contemptuous gaze. “I heard from General Smith that a band of British troops are headed toward Washington.” He brushed dust from his coat. “As if they could occupy our capital. Bah!” He chuckled then studied her. “Oh, I see fear on your pretty face. Now, don’t fret about the lives of your fellow Americans, my love, I’m sure the regular army and Maryland militia will give the British quite a welcome. Hopefully one which obliterates every last one of them.”
A dozen thoughts spun in Rose’s head until it grew light. Her aunt and uncle were in Washington. Did they know about the attack? Were there enough American soldiers to protect them? And what of Alex?
She took a deep breath and gripped the edge of Valor’s stall. “Mr. Reed is no doubt back on his ship.”
Mr. Snyder cocked his head and smiled. “Ah yes. One would think so, but I also heard there are several naval officers among the British horde. Tsk tsk. It would be a shame to see him killed. And by one of our own.”
Rose’s legs wobbled.
“Which brings me back to why you will still marry me,” he continued, twirling his cane in the air. “Who do you suppose General Smith will believe, a prominent councilman or a British doxy?”
Rose longed to wipe the supercilious smirk from his lips. “A rather inebriated councilman, from all appearances at the ball. Perhaps he’ll believe me, over you, sir.”
“Humph.” Mr. Snyder tugged on his cravat, then pressed his fingers through the red hair at his temples. “You are nothing but a British strumpet, a sullied orphan girl.”
Rose tried to ignore the insult, but it slipped into her heart anyway. “I insist you leave at once, Mr. Snyder. You are no longer welcome here.”
A spark of fury seared in his gaze. It grew larger and larger until it seemed to consume his eyes like a wildfire. Rose swallowed and took a step back.
“I will take down your entire family.” Lifting his cane, he slammed it over the post. The ominous snap of wood shot through the barn like musket fire.
Liverpool let out a long mournful groan as the chickens scattered in a frenzy.
; A wave of acid flooded Rose’s belly. She hadn’t thought Mr. Snyder capable of violence, but suddenly she was not so sure.
Mr. Snyder tossed the broken stick to the ground, then clutched Rose by the throat.
Clawing at his hands, she gasped for air.
He thrust his face into hers until she could smell the sausage he’d had for breakfast. “I will have this land and you as my wife if it’s the last thing I do.”
Valor let out a thunderous bray and kicked her stall.
Rose scratched at his hands, her lungs screaming. Visions of another man’s harsh grip upon her throat blasted through her mind. Oh God, no! Panic set in, first clenching her heart then weaving its way through every muscle and tissue. Just when she thought she might lose consciousness from lack of air, Mr. Snyder released her, shoving her back against Valor’s stall.
Lifting a hand to her throat, Rose coughed and gulped in air, shifting her gaze between the open barn door and Mr. Snyder, lest he come at her again. Instead he stood there, his chest heaving, his expression one of shock and self-loathing. “Forgive me.” Then suddenly, spinning on his heel, he marched from the barn.
A minute later, Rose heard his horse gallop away. She wanted to succumb to her trembling legs and crumple to the ground. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run and lock herself in her chamber.
But she couldn’t. Her aunt and uncle were in the center of a city about to be attacked by the British. She couldn’t count on the military evacuating them. Despite what Mr. Snyder declared, Rose’s aunt had informed her that Washington was often left largely unprotected because most of the army stationed there was called out to battle in other locations. No one in their wildest dreams considered an attack on Washington DC possible.
And perhaps it still wasn’t.
But how could she be sure?
Daniel’s words of destiny rang in her ears. God has something important for you to do. She hadn’t believed him. Not until this moment. Now she feared the destiny he had spoken of was fast approaching.
She must go to Washington to warn her family.
Climbing to the barn loft, she retrieved Alex’s pistol from a trunk. She hated bringing the heinous thing but it might come in handy. Thoughts of Alex caused her heart to shrink. Was he indeed marching on Washington? If so, he’d be forced to shoot Americans. Which made him her enemy once again. Not to mention put him in grave danger. And the worst of it was, if he died, she would never know. She didn’t know whether to pray for him or her countrymen. Perhaps both. After climbing down the ladder, she prepared Valor to ride, stuffed the pistol in the saddle pack, and led the horse out of the barn.
No sooner had she reached the open field than her legs went as limp as blades of grass, her chest felt as though Liverpool were sitting on it, and her head spun around a pounding ache.
She could not go to Washington!
Alone.
What was she thinking?
She gazed over the grassy field beyond. Her home. Her sanctuary. Would it remain that way? Over the treetops the afternoon sun sped toward the horizon as if frightened of the coming night. Distant thunder rumbled from slate gray clouds looming in the east.
Oh Lord, please protect my aunt and uncle.
Even at a gallop, the trip would take her at least four hours. She might already be too late.
She sank to the ground and dropped her head into her hands. “I cannot go. Lord, what if I’m attacked again?”
“I love you.”
God? Rose glanced around her but heard only the rustle of the wind dancing through the tall grass. “What if I don’t make it in time?”
“I love you.”
Did God love her? Memories of the dream she had a few weeks ago filled her thoughts. The man in white had said she had something important to do for God, just like Daniel had proclaimed. Rose wiped her sweaty palms over her gown.
“Go.” The inner voice again. Gentle, yet not demanding.
“Me? Lord. I’m nothing but a frightened little mouse.” A heavy wind swept over her, twirling the dirt beside her into a whirlwind. She hugged herself. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Trust me.”
Trust. Indignation forced her to her feet. She fisted her hands at her sides. “Trust!” She shouted into the sky. “Where were You when I was attacked? Where were You when I was ravished?” Her voice cracked.
“Right beside you.”
“Lord.” she sobbed.
“Precious daughter, forgive them.”
Rose closed her eyes. Light and shadow battled across her eyelids. The warmth of the sun embraced her as the wind caressed her hair and cooled her moist cheeks. Forgive. She didn’t feel like forgiving the sailors who had assaulted her, the family friend who had used her. But maybe it wasn’t about feelings. Mr. Snyder had asked for her forgiveness before he’d stomped out of the barn. Could she forgive him as well?
Rose clenched her fists. “I forgive them, Lord. I forgive them all.”
Love such as she’d never known before instantly fell upon her, cloaking her, filling her. More than the love of her earthly father, this love was like a fire, consuming all fear in its path.
She opened her eyes. And suddenly she knew. It didn’t matter what happened to her. She belonged to God. The Almighty Creator of the universe was her father. He would always be with her—even through the bad times. There was a plan.
A purpose behind the agony.
Half-giggling half-sobbing, she lifted her arms out to her sides, thirsting for more of this love, wanting to soak it in, to bask in it. She twirled around like a child frolicking among a field of wildflowers until she nearly stumbled with dizziness. So this was what Uncle Forbes meant when he said, “Perfect love casts out all fear.”
“Thank You, Father.”
Thunder groaned in the distance again, reminding her she hadn’t much time.
Wiping her face, she drew a deep breath and swung onto Valor’s back. She clutched the reins and faced southwest. Fear still lingered within her. She felt its tormenting claws grinding over the fortress of love that held it at bay, clamoring to be released, but with God’s help, she would not allow it. Not ever again.
Snyder urged his gelding down the trail leading back to the Drummond home. No sooner had he reached Madison Street than he regretted his harsh treatment of Rose. He hadn’t intended to be so vile. In fact, quite the opposite. But the smug look of victory on her face had unleashed the devil within him. How dare she toss him from her farm like so much refuse? The audacity! Never in Snyder’s life had he been treated with such brazen impudence. Especially not from an orphaned farm girl.
Snyder’s own inferior birth and dubious heritage rose to sneer at him, but he shoved the unsavory thoughts aside. He had risen above the legacy left him by his father and grandfather. And he would rise further still.
For he had every intention of marrying Miss McGuire, despite this temporary setback.
With Mr. Reed gone, the lady had no other worthwhile prospects. Certainly none as advantageous as himself. His housekeeper, Miss Addington, had reminded him of that fact last evening as he stormed about his parlor, shoving vases and trays to the floor in his fury. “Easier to catch bees with sweet nectar than with tar,” she had said. He wished he’d taken her advice instead of behaving the ignoble beast. But who could blame him after all she and Mr. Reed had done? Nevertheless, he determined to make amends immediately, before her anger festered. He would swallow his pride and apologize for his behavior. Sooner or later, she was bound to see him in a favorable light and forgive his past indiscretions.
Adjusting the bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked along the side of the road, he snapped the reins and smiled at the assurance of his success. He was handsome, accomplished, and had much to offer the lady. Now all he needed was a bit of charm and a barrel of patience, and soon this prime land would be his.
A band of sooty clouds lined the eastern horizon, but the afternoon sun still beat down on him. Withdrawing a handkerchief
, he mopped the sweat from his brow as he led his horse through the farm’s open gate and glanced toward the barn where he expected to find Miss McGuire. His eyes were rewarded with the sight of her standing beside her horse.
Urging his gelding into a trot, he headed her way when, much to his surprise, she leaped upon her filly, kicked the beast’s sides, and galloped across the field, disappearing into the forest.
By herself! Did she know there were British afoot?
Snyder stared after her as a gust of wind swept away the cloud of dust kicked up by her horse. Of course she knew there were British afoot. Perhaps that was why she’d left in such a hurry—to rendezvous with a particular British naval officer.
Snyder ground his teeth together. The tramp. Tossing the flowers into the dirt, he flicked the reins and sped across the field after her.
CHAPTER 25
Alex had barely slept ten minutes before a bugle blared and drums pounded through the camp, waking the troops to a new day.
A day his countrymen intended to march into the American capital and crush the heart of this fledgling nation.
Struggling to rise from the hard ground outside the tent, he stretched the ache in his back and rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the fog from his brain.
Soon men in red coats emerged from tents like fiery wasps from their nests as officers stormed by on horseback shouting orders. After a cold breakfast of dried pork and water, the men tore down the tents, packed the supplies, and lined up in formation. Cool morning air, whispering the promise of a reprieve from the summer heat, drifted over the tired soldiers as they marched double-file into an immense forest where thick branches and a plethora of leaves in all shapes and sizes formed an archway of green overhead that shielded them from the sun. Behind Alex, the seamen in his charge heaved on thick ropes attached to the ship’s guns. It would have been much easier to pull the iron cannons in a wagon but due to a shortage of horses, none had been provided. They were good men, brave and loyal, some barely sprouting whiskers on their chins. The guilt of Alex’s treason ground hard against his soul. He bowed his head. Lord, please allow no deaths this day. Please save this wonderful nation and her capital.
Surrender the Night Page 28