Over two weeks. He could not blame Marion for waiting, with Major Layton watching for them and Georgetown significantly reinforced with upwards of three hundred King’s soldiers and Queen’s Rangers, two galleys and three nine-pounder cannons. But understanding the pause did not make it any easier. Daniel should have taken his leave as originally planned. He would have almost been home by now. Unfortunately, he’d always been a fool.
The Rangers passed, and the three men breathed a collective sigh. Only one more mile to town. A town whose guard was hopefully spread thin. Earlier in the day, Marion had sent Colonel Horry with four companies to hinder some Loyalists butchering cattle just north of Georgetown. The skirmish had become quite the tumult throughout the day and more men were drawn out of town to meet the Patriots, making the perfect opportunity to slip into the community at the southeast edge. They wouldn’t have far to go.
Keeping to the trees, the small band skirted around the edge of town within a block of Charles’s house.
“We should leave the horses here,” Daniel said, dismounting. “It will be easier to sneak in on foot.” He glanced at Charles. “The quieter the better, right?”
Charles nodded, obviously nervous about smuggling not only a woman, but a baby, out from under the noses of the British.
Daniel wasn’t sure if his own anxiety came from getting Charles’s family out, or the possibility of seeing Lydia. Or not seeing her. He wasn’t sure which he wanted. A gust of wind off the bay encouraged Daniel to press his hat lower on his brow and tug his collar higher. The half-moon cast a low light over the town. He would have preferred it to be darker.
They sat in the shadows and watched the house for a time.
A guard stood near the front door, leaning against one of the thick columns. There was no sign of any others.
“See that window with the faint glow,” Charles whispered, pointing to the second story of the house. “It appears Lydia still has a candle lit in her chambers. We’ll have to remain quiet. As far as I can see, no lamps are lit. And Major Layton’s quarters are dark.”
Daniel’s gaze snagged on the first window indicated and the soft light showing. Like a beacon. What he wouldn’t give to face that little Loyalist, look her in the eyes and let her see the contempt he held for the games she’d played. Had she felt anything for him? Or would Miss Reynolds take pleasure in the pain he tried so hard to conceal under the layer of distain? Better to avoid her altogether.
“Follow me.” Charles broke toward the back entrance.
As they stole through the door, legs of a chair vibrated against the floor and a shadow rose from a small table, a glow of red in a low lamp.
Daniel leapt past Charles, shouldering him aside as he slammed his body into the British soldier. The chair clattered over as both men hit the ground with a thud. The redcoat already had his pistol in hand, but Daniel wrestled the weapon from him and struck him over the head. His body fell limp.
Silence settled into the room, and Daniel’s breath bated. Had anyone else heard the tussle?
“Smith.” Daniel pushed to his feet and handed the pistol to the man who had volunteered to assist them. More had been willing, but they hadn’t come for a fight. “You stay here and bind this guard. Make sure we can come back out this way.”
He didn’t wait for the man’s response, or acknowledge the return of a familiar ache in his ankle as he motioned for Charles to lead the way through the grand house. Even buried in darkness, the elegance and magnificence slapped him across the face. Miss Reynolds had probably laughed after his proposal, offering her a life in the wilderness, away from all this luxury and wealth. Well, she could have it. And her King on his throne in England.
Daniel waited outside the door, sword in hand, as Charles slipped into one of the bedchambers. The sigh of a woman’s voice followed. And then Charles’s muffled reply. Surprisingly quickly they joined him, the woman already dressed and with a bag in hand.
Charles toted a baby bundled in blankets. “Let’s go.” He again led the way.
Daniel brought up the rear. His feet hesitated in front of what he reckoned to be Lydia’s bedroom. “Good riddance,” he whispered.
~*~
The light from the candle flickered over the page of her mother’s Bible. Lydia lay across her bed on her stomach reading the small printed words as best she could. Her eyes ached, but she did not want to stop. Not until she could no longer keep her eyelids open. Only then would sleep come, carrying some of the peace she had gleaned from the pages.
The wind whistled at the window panes while a door tapped shut. Footsteps shuffled past her door. The only thing she could think was that Major Layton, or Colonel Campbell, who had also taken up residence in their home, had returned.
Ester had the crib moved into Charles’s bedroom shortly after she’d arrived, wanting the baby close. She also left her luggage packed. Lydia had seen the bags and suspected they also contained articles for Maggie, ready for when Charles came for her. Lydia knew as well as Ester that he would return when the time was right.
Lydia sat up and listened. Definitely someone on the stairs. But leading downwards, not up. If not Layton or Campbell… Rolling from the bed, Lydia snatched a robe from the foot of the bed, slipped the bolt, and opened the door a crack.
Three shadows had just reached the bottom of the stairs. Two men and a woman. Packs and bundles. Charles had finally come. And now they were leaving. Without her. Alone with the king’s officers. The last of her family ripped from her. Lydia stepped out, panic rising within. “Charles.”
She hadn’t spoken loudly, but the last man looked back. There was not enough light to make out his face, but his height and physique was very familiar. He shooed the others faster and then turned back as she rushed to the stairs.
“Daniel?”
He froze.
A horse whinnied at the front of the house and the heavy trod of weary feet approached the door. The officers.
Daniel’s head swung from looking at her, to Charles, and back again. He mumbled something to the others and then lunged for the banister, taking the steps three at a time. The door opened below as he took hold of her arm. His palm clapped over her mouth and spun with Lydia into her bedchambers. He only released her arm to ease the door closed behind them and slide the bolt back into place.
With her head captured against his chest, Lydia was unable to hear anything beyond the thundering within. She couldn’t tell whose heart beat the loudest.
“I won’t let you betray them again,” Daniel whispered in her ear, his breath hot.
Much like the heat building behind her eyes. If only he would let her speak, tell him what had really happened, who was really at fault, but his palm remained clasped over her mouth.
Men’s voices echoed through the grand house, neither Layton nor Campbell giving any thought to the lateness of the hour or whom they might disturb. Not that they would disturb anyone. Charles and Ester had made their escape with Maggie. By morning they would be well beyond the Major’s reach.
Lydia clamped her eyes closed. Dear God, please keep them safe, and speed their way. A tear rolled from the corner of her eye. She could tell when the droplet met Daniel’s hand as his grip loosened slightly.
He shifted his position, his chest expanding. His head ducked next to hers. Warmth touched her ear, and then his mouth clamped shut. He probably didn’t believe she deserved a word from him.
Maybe she didn’t.
“I won’t hurt you so long as you make no sound,” he breathed. “Just stay silent.”
A tremble worked its way through her body and another tear claimed freedom. He thought so little of her as to believe she was only concerned for her own safety.
Daniel leaned low and blew out her candle. Then he dragged her to the window and peered down. Some of the tension ebbed from him.
She wrenched to look out in time to see three shadowed forms vanish into the hedges. They had made it. Soon they would be far from Georgetown with Mag
gie. Only God knew if Lydia would ever see her niece again, and the uncertainty sent more moisture to her cheeks—and Daniel’s hand.
His grip slackened even more. “It’s almost over,” he said.
It was impossible to tell whether his words were meant for her or himself. They brought her no comfort. Soon he would also be gone. Soon. She had a little while yet in his arms. Lydia relaxed against him and memorized the rhythm of his heart. The strength in his arms. The earthy scent of his clothes. Memories were all she had left of her family—nothing could take them from her. Not disease, not privateers, and not death. Not goodbye.
~*~
Daniel stiffened as Lydia’s body eased against his, almost as though she were falling asleep in his arms, but she remained steady on her feet.
The voices continued downstairs, not more than a word or two intelligible.
He wished they would hurry and retire so he could make his escape. If he waited long enough, he could go out the way they came in. Unless that guard at the back was discovered missing or regained consciousness. Had Smith had the time or the presence of mind to tie him?
The window spilled blocks of moonlight onto the floor and offered a second option. But what was he supposed to do with Lydia? He couldn’t let her go. One scream and the British army would come running. He wouldn’t be the only one they found. Charles and his family needed more time to get away. But Daniel didn’t want to hold her any longer. He hauled her to the bed and threw off the heavy cover with the hand not required for keeping her silent. Something thudded on the floor and he glanced at the offending object. A book.
There was no break in the conversation downstairs.
Taking the linen sheet, Daniel bit the corner and began to rip away a strip, slowly and quietly.
Lydia gripped his hand across her mouth, tugging at it.
“If you try to scream, so help me, I’ll knock you unconscious.” Even as he said it, Daniel questioned his ability to carry through. He hated her, despised her, but wouldn’t be able to raise a hand against her to save his life.
Her head gave a little shake, and he drew his hand away ever so slightly, braced to slap it back at the first squeak from her throat.
“I swear I will not make a sound.” Her words were conveyed on a breath, her eyes wide as she rotated to face him. “I want to help you.”
He glared at her and finished ripping the sheet. “Like you helped your brother-in-law and his new bride? On their wedding day. Like you helped me by telling the British everything I ever said, and where I’d be.”
“Daniel, you must believe me, I never—”
“That’s the problem right there. I don’t believe you.” As much as he still wanted to. “I won’t be your dupe anymore.” The fact that he’d fallen for her lies still boiled his blood. If she wasn’t so scared right now, she’d likely laugh in his face. He grabbed her hands and bound them together.
“Please, Daniel, I did not want to hurt you, or deceive you. Maybe when I first met you, all I could think about was finding a way to go to England, but that—”
Daniel yanked her back to him, clamping his palm over her mouth to hush her ever increasing volume. He’d be wise to gag her, but at least he finally had his confession.
Lydia looked up at him with apology-filled eyes, but she’d fooled him before. Daniel had been so sure he’d seen love in those eyes once. How had he been so mistaken? He let her go again only so he could tear another strip of linen.
She stood, obediently silent.
With two strips in hand, Daniel motioned her to the bed. She sat and he knelt at her feet. Heat burned across his neck at the sight of her bare toes and ankles peeking from under the white linen of her nightgown. He pushed past the sensation, and focused on binding them tight. Then he scooped her feet up onto the bed. The floor was cool and there was no reason to let her fall ill. He pulled the blankets over her and tucked them around her pretty throat, and the smooth skin of her neck. He let his fingers linger a little too long.
“Daniel.”
He met her gaze and the anger fell away, leaving charred emptiness in its place. And an incredible loneliness.
“I am sorry.”
He almost believed her. But perhaps that only proved him more the fool.
~*~
At the hurt in Daniel’s eyes, Lydia ached to throw her arms around his neck and hang on until he believed her and agreed to take her with him, but the linen binding her wrists held all the security of shackles. And speaking only endangered his life.
Major Layton and Colonel Campbell’s conversation had lapsed and they were probably headed to their beds. Any sound could draw them this way.
She had no choice but to let him go.
The last torn sections of her sheet were gripped in Daniel’s hand as he leaned over her. His gaze lowered to her lips. His mouth followed, brushing over hers.
Don’t leave me. Lydia brought her head off her pillow in an attempt to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away and the bland taste of cloth replaced his sweetness.
He stuffed her mouth and then wrapped the linen around her head and tied it over her ear. Hurrying to the window, he drew it open and leaned out. He glanced back one last time before he jumped. A muffled grunt split the night air as his boots thudded against ground. Then came the sound of loose pebbles on the path under hard soles, and the cry of warning from one of the King’s soldiers.
30
A bolt of fiery pain lit up Daniel’s leg from his foot as it met the ground, his momentum carrying him into a roll. He jammed a knuckle into his mouth and clamped down in an attempt to smother the cry halfway up his throat. With only partial success.
One of the redcoats rounded the side of the house, and Daniel scrambled to his feet. His ankle screamed at him with renewed agony and gave way.
“Intruder! Halt!”
The boom of a musket echoed in Daniel’s ears as rocks again met his knees. He dove for the ground and rolled back toward the brick wall, though the spindly bushes, now bereft of any leaves, would give him no cover as he grabbed his pistol and…tossed it aside. Little choice remained with the barrel of a second guard’s musket glaring down at him. Daniel held his hands away from his body. Not that surrender would make any difference. Three weeks earlier a whole company of Marion’s men had been shot after being offered quarter and yielding their weapons.
Daniel gritted his teeth against the torture of his ankle—the same Madam had crushed almost two months earlier. It had never completely healed, but he hadn’t considered that when choosing to jump from the second story window. How could he have with Lydia so close? This was simply another victory to her. Maybe he’d be better off with a lead ball through his brain.
An officer, no doubt Lydia’s Major Layton, came around the corner of the house, hands working to button his uniform.
Three more soldiers flanked him, one with a lantern in hand.
The major secured the last button of his red coat and lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword. He glanced up at Lydia’s window, and then back. “Sergeant Reid, if I’m not mistaken. One of you men check on Miss Reynolds. Hurry.”
“She’s fine.” Daniel laid his head back to the ground. A wave of nausea washed through him, swelling with the pain, and then both slowly ebbed. “We merely talked.”
“Very well.” The major motioned to his men. “Bring him.” He turned back to Daniel. “It is time you and I do the same.”
After relieving Daniel of his sword, two of the soldiers pulled him up. With their help, he avoided pressure on his sore ankle as they hauled him to the front and inside of the house, even grander now the halls were lit. In a smaller room, they deposited him on a chair, and Major Layton seated himself on the edge of a large desk.
“Why were you here?” The major’s eyes widened as though something occurred to him. “Someone, check Mrs. Selby immediately, make sure she is still—”
“Major, I am sure it is not necessary to disturb Mrs. Selby,” Lydia said, steppin
g into the room rubbing her wrists. Her tresses, dark and tousled, hung about her shoulders, and she’d replaced her nightgown with a simple day dress. “I heard the baby fussing until late. I am sure they are both quite exhausted. Or, if someone must look in on them, let me. Anything else would be quite inappropriate.”
The major straightened to his full height. “Miss Reynolds, my men will follow through on my orders and—”
“No, they will not, sir! This is my home and I am done with the improprieties I have already endured here tonight. Pray tell, how did your men fail to stop this man from forcing his way into my chambers?” Her eyes flashed with something strangely familiar, making it all the harder to understand her charade. “If you had not come when you did, I can only imagine what this brute,” her voice quivered, “may have done.”
The major settled into a chair. “Did he harm you?”
Lydia stiffened. “No. The rogue woke me, gagged me, tied my hands and feet, and then regaled me with his grievances. For some reason, he had many, now wise to my part in all of this. But coming here alone like this, I see he is every bit the fool we believed him to be.”
Daniel flinched at her words, though they couldn’t all be true. She had to have seen both Charles and Ester with him. Was it possible that Lydia now protected the very ones she had at first betrayed? Or was this only another layer of her twisted scheme?
The pain radiating up Daniel’s leg did not help him make sense of the woman, but as he caught her gaze, he saw something that hadn’t been present when he’d bound her in her chambers. Fear. He was daft enough to wonder if it was for him.
~*~
Four hours passed before dawn broke on the horizon and the major ordered one of the slaves to wake Mrs. Selby.
Lydia had managed some semblance of shock at Ester’s absence, but her thoughts lingered far from keeping up pretenses.
Daniel had already been taken to the Zephyr, now anchored in the bay while awaiting a new captain and crew. The British did not trust anyone close to Charles and his treason.
The Patriot and the Loyalist Page 20