by Lynn Hubbard
Sarah gasped at the news and shook her head in disbelief. “No, it can’t be. She is all I had.”
“Let me see that.” The Colonel insisted, dismayed to see the girl so distraught.
“May I look?” Sarah asked using her softest voice.
“You can read?” he asked quizzically. Educating women was not highly encouraged in the colonies; the men were hard enough to deal with. .
“A bit,” she replied with a blush. It would not be wise to share her love of reading with the British Army.
“Of course ma’am.” He made a big show of walking around the desk and leaning over her as he flipped through the pages. She felt suffocated but forced herself to stay calm.
“There,” he finally said pointing to a name on the page.
She studied the word for a moment and then frowned. “It says M. Smith.”
“Yes, M. for Margaret.”
“Or it could be M. for Mitchell, or Mark, or any other M name,” the Colonel suggested, trying to offer some hope.
Sarah watched, amused for a moment, until she remembered her fictional aunt is now dead. “Please stop! I can’t take any more discourse. With her home gone, I can only believe the worst. Thank you for your time,” Sarah said, standing to leave quickly.
The major blocked her way and grabbed her arm. “Ma’am, I feel somewhat responsible for your loss. I insist on arranging board for you.”
“That is not necessary. I have been fending for myself for quite a while. If you can just point out a boarding house I’ll be off,” Sarah said demurely, tugging her arm free.
“Unfortunately, that is not possible,” the Colonel added. “Since the fire, the army has taken over all of the abandoned homes and most of the civilian properties. I, however, have ample room at my home. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish.”
Sarah looked up into the round, portly face of the Colonel. She should hate him, but for some reason she didn’t. The fact that he seemed to like the Major as little as she did warmed her to him a bit.
With a silent nod, she allowed him to take her elbow and guide her down the street.
Chapter 9 Sleeping Beauty
The home was grand. It totaled three stories and had a large Cupola on the roof. The Colonel opened a wrought iron gate to allow her entrance and she marveled at the gardens. There was a sculptured maze of bushes, all precisely manicured. She had never seen such a splendid show.
“This is your home?” she asked in awe.
“It belongs to a friend of mine; he and his wife are back in London,” he added a bit wistfully.
“And they won’t care for you inviting a guest?”
“Not one such as yourself,” he said with a wink.
An older woman in an apron opened the door. She did a hasty bow and offered to take Sarah’s cloak, which she refused.
“Cecilia, Miss Smith is visiting with us. Please draw a bath so she may rest after her travels.” She nodded silently before heading to the kitchen to heat water. The Colonel walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a flask of liquor. “Drink?”
“No Sir.”
After pouring three fingers worth he motioned for her to sit. Sarah did so, making sure the front door was within view. Her nerves were on end, and she wasn’t sure why he was being so kind.
She looked around the room; much time and trouble had been spent on the décor. Luxurious settees and chairs were grouped in front of a roaring fireplace. Sarah couldn’t resist walking up to it and holding out her hands toward the flames to warm them. The heat soaked into her skin, and she stood there until she was practically boiling.
Her eyes rose to take in the charming family portrait above the hearth. Her thoughts turned to her own family. They were stolen from her, perhaps by the deeds of the man in this very room. She had never been a believer in fate. How could fate be so cruel? Reluctantly she turned around to warm her backside. She found the Colonel was watching her with amusement.
“So what does a Colonel do exactly?” she asked at last.
“Well what I do is paperwork; there is loads of the mess. I mingle with local politicians, to make sure they have the correct view on things. It can be quite tedious attending all the banquets and pleasantries.”
“It sounds just awful; I couldn’t imagine smiling for hours on end,” Sarah said. He chuckled with a nod. She couldn’t help but feel bitter as these soldiers drenched in finery were plotting to destroy her country.
She was quite glad when Cecilia appeared and led her upstairs. She was steered into a large, masculine bedroom. The four-poster bed was draped with velvet red curtains to ward off drafts. Next to the window was a large porcelain tub filled halfway with steaming water. All thoughts of running from the house were lost.
“Supper is at six, feel free to rest as long as you need to, you will not be bothered. Only gentlemen live here,” she assured Sarah, slipping out of the room.
Sarah removed her garments and laid them on the floor. She didn’t want to sully the bedcovers with road dust. She carefully dipped a toe in and sighed. Stepping in and sitting down, she lolled her head back against the rim.
It had been way too long since she’d had a proper bath. Cleansing yourself in a creek within feet of hundreds of men was not considered proper. Nonetheless, she made do.
She glanced to the side and noticed a bar of soap and some towels. Sniffing it, she was rewarded by the scent of lavender. She grasped the soap and began lathering herself from head to toe. Twice. Her skin tingled and her muscles relaxed; she rested until the water turned chilly.
She climbed out and quickly dried off her body before spending much time squeezing the water out of her hair. She allowed a yawn to escape as and eyed the bed wearily. Well, they did suggest for her to rest.
Feeling like a trespasser she pulled on her shift and climbed under the covers. The bed was larger than the tent she lived in. With her mind as tired as her body, she sank into the feather mattress and was asleep in minutes.
***
Tristan climbed the steps to his family's home and was surprised to find it empty. He had spent the day working on the ship with his men. It felt good using his muscles again. The sea was calling his name and he ached to be off.
His hand trailed along the mahogany railing as he headed to his room to clean up before supper. He grasped the iron knob and twisted. Locked. He frowned a bit before fumbling into his pocket for the key. Unlocking the door with a click, he entered and shut the door behind him. He tossed his hat on the bureau before turning to head for the water basin. A soft sound ebbed at him and he turned in bewilderment to take in the lump on his bed.
Instinctively he pulled out his knife and turned to face this new threat. He stood silently, holding his breath. When no attack came he took a ginger step forward, and then another. Fire had spilt out over his pillow and attached to it, was the most delicate face he had ever seen.
Not quite trusting his sight, he sheathed his blade and bravely walked to the edge of the bed. He reached over to lift a strand of flame, to see if it would burn. At the gentle touch her eyes flew open, as did her mouth to scream.
Realizing this, he knelt, and covered her mouth with his hand.
Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he was met by a piercing pain in his wrist. He quickly pulled back as the girl sat up in bed, clutching the covers to her chin.
“Who the hell are you?” she asked, her steady voice belied the fear she felt inside.
“Who am I?” he asked, pulling the pin out of his wrist. “I was just about to ask who you were, and why you were in my bed.”
Her eyes widened when his words sunk in. “Oh! Well, the Colonel said I could rest in here.”
“I see,” he said, flexing his wrist to make sure there was no permanent damage. “You have nothing to fear. I will not harm you.”
“I am terribly sorry, you surprised me,” Sarah said, relaxing a bit. She felt a bit foolish sitting here half clothed in a man’s bed. What the hell had she been thinkin
g earlier? It was quite obvious the room belonged to a man. She had mistakenly assumed it was the Colonel’s.
Tristan took a deep breath to help cleanse his mind. He was getting way too stimulated by the vision of the girl tangled in his covers. “Let’s try this again shall we? I am Tristan Radcliff, welcome to my home.”
Sarah was rendered speechless as his name sunk in. This was Robert’s brother. Her eyes went to his face searching for recognition. They looked quite different to be brothers. Where Robert was dark, Tristan was light. He was a bit taller, and definitely more muscular. Of course Robert would be too if he wasn’t half starved like the rest of them.
“And this is where you’re supposed to introduce yourself,” he added when only met with silence.
Sarah’s mind whirled, still fresh from sleep, she ran through her thoughts trying to decipher what name she had chosen. “Sarah... Smith,” she finally spat out.
He raised an eyebrow at her reply. “Well, Miss Smith. Welcome to my home,” and my bed, he added silently.
“Can I have my pin back?”
“No, I think I am safer if I hold onto it.”
Sarah sat up straight in bed. “I must have it back, it was a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes, it was all she had.” Tears stung her eyes when she thought of Margaret.
Tristan, seeing her despair, handed over the pin. He wondered what kind of people only had pins to give as gifts.
“Now be off! It isn’t decent to be in a room with you; I was raised better.”
He stepped back and nodded to her before stepping into the hallway. Sarah was out of bed as soon as she heard the click. She grabbed for her clothes and was dismayed that they were not there. Instead was a lovely blue dress; she threw it on and was surprised by the fit.
Apparently Cecilia swapped them while she was asleep. Thankfully it buttoned up the front. Running her hands through her slightly damp hair, she quickly plaited it into a braid.
Sarah glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was a bit surprised by her appearance; her face was thin and sharp. Her usual rounded cheeks had disappeared so she pinched them to add a bit of color. Nonetheless, her eyes were still a lively green; eyes that had seen enough death and despair for a lifetime. The spark of hope had not died, but it was flickering.
How had she ended up here? At Robert’s family home? This was supposed to be her last resort; she was running out of options fast.
She wondered how Robert could give up a life such as this. Most of the soldiers were from humble backgrounds, and didn’t have much to lose either way.
With Robert’s wealth he could do as he pleased, or nothing at all. Of course Washington himself was quite wealthy, and he chose to not only fight, but to lead. She had asked Robert once why he joined; he had laughed and told her it was for the wonderful benefits. Perhaps he left because of his wife after all. However, it was one thing to leave a trivial wife; it was another to abandon your entire family.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she headed out the door. The hallway was thankfully vacant and she followed her earlier steps down the stairs.
The front door once again beckoned to her, but her growling stomach won out and she followed the aromatic smell of baked chicken to the kitchen. She was met by Cecilia, whom eyed her critically before escorting her to the dining room. She hesitated just an instant to compose herself before stepping into the room.
The Colonel, some man she didn’t know, and Tristan occupied the room. Their deep conversation was cut off abruptly when she neared the table.
“Ah, so glad you could join us,” the Colonel greeted her as the men stood.
“As am I,” Sarah replied, flashing him her best smile. He reached across the table and grasped her hand. Sarah cringed inwardly as his moist lips brushed against the back of it. Repulsed, she resisted the urge to wipe off the wetness and instead took a seat across from Tristan.
The new man was introduced as the Colonel’s aide, Ryan. He was awfully quiet and his ink stained fingers gave away his talent.
Sarah glanced at the elaborate table settings. There were more utensils next to her one plate than her family owned.
“Did you rest well?” the Colonel asked.
“Very much so, thank you for the hospitality.”
Tristan leaned forward. “I am sorry for your loss. Surely you have other family?”
Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears; not all of them were false. “There’s no one. This wretched war has taken them all.” Three handkerchiefs were instantly presented and she accepted the nearest one.
Unfortunately she didn’t notice the ink splatters until after she dabbed her eyes. Her glance at Tristan trying to hide a grin, confirmed her suspicions. She had just wiped ink on her face.
“Ryan!” the Colonel scolded.
“I am so sorry miss, ma’am, missus,” Ryan stuttered. “Let me help.”
“I will take care of the lady,” Tristan said, already kneeling next to Sarah’s chair. Even with him on his knees, they were practically eye-to-eye.
“No need,” Sarah said, trying to rise.
“Shhh,” Tristan replied, dipping his kerchief in the water goblet. With no other choice, she closed her eyes and Tristan placed the damp cloth to her face, gently dabbing here and there. He was so close she could feel his warm breath wash over her and a shiver ran down her spine.
She felt him move back and she opened her eyes to stare into his blue ones. “Barely noticeable,” he assured her.
“I’ve dealt with much worse.”
“Have you?” Tristan inquired with worry.
She was rescued by the first course being brought to the table. “Delicate lobster bisque,” the cook announced.
Her stomach growled in reminder of her hunger and she blushed brilliantly. Tristan watched her closely from across the table and she shyly returned to her food. She wasn’t sure why she so was so nervous around him. She was used to being surrounded by men, a good many of them naked at that! So why was this different? Of course there was the whole spy thing, but she hadn’t learned any war altering secrets yet. No, this was different, something more instinctive.
She looked down at the array of silverware before her. She wasn’t quite sure which spoon to use and decided to wait until the others started to eat. She looked up noticing they were waiting for her to eat first.
Tristan, seeing her hesitation, picked up the spoon on his far right and lifted it with a wink. Sarah followed suit and took a tentative sip of the broth. It was delicious; she nodded her approval and the men started to eat as well.
As Sarah ate the men resumed their conversation. She expected it to turn to war, after all what else was there to discuss?
“Since we have a lady in our midst, I think it is a grand time to throw a ball. I haven’t been to a good bash since Christmas,” the Colonel exclaimed.
Sarah dropped her spoon in surprise. “Oh, I just couldn’t. I’m not even sure where I’ll be staying. And with the loss of Aunt Margaret, it just doesn’t seem right.”
“Well you will be staying here of course. We have plenty of room,” Tristan spoke up, his rich full voice drawing her eyes to his lips. His eyes met hers and she looked down at her soup.
“Not to sound ungrateful, but I do not think it is suitable to be housed with men. Surely there must be someplace else.”
Tristan guffawed. “With the city thick with soldiers, any boarding home would be swamped with men as well. Moreover, I cannot guarantee their character. As I can my own.”
She raised an eyebrow at him remembering their earlier encounter in his bedroom. She did trust him, purely for the fact that Robert vouched for him. She so wanted to tell him that Robert was alive and well, but that would give too much away.
“I suppose I can stay the night, and then revisit my options. I need to get my horse. Do you have a stable?”
“We have a paddock for our horses. I will see that yours is cared for.”
“No
need, I’ll take care of Molly myself. And I will pay you for the board.”
A large steak was placed in front of her, and her soup was swept away. Her mouth watered just from the aroma. It had been so long since she had real meat to eat. Mostly they had to stew rabbit or some other vermin, and if you were lucky to get meat in your bowl it would be a bite or two at the most.
“This is amazing! Is there farmers nearby?” she asked, taking another bite. The men exchanged looks before responding.
“We have to trade for meat with the Rebels. They will sell just about anything for money,” he chuckled.
“Rebels?” she asked in surprise. “Isn’t that traitorous or at the very least, dangerous?”
“We have a whole army to feed. There aren’t many pastures or vegetable gardens in the city. The crown tends to overlook what is a necessity. If we didn’t trade, our soldiers would be as debilitated as the Rebels.”
Sarah took another bite, just to keep herself from retorting. The food had lost its allure and was now a chore to swallow down. She couldn’t fathom Rebels trading willingly with the British. It sickened her that they were aiding the enemy while their own men starved to death.
Sarah pushed back her plate. “Thank you for dinner, I need to get Molly before dark.”
“I will accompany you,” Tristan said, pushing his chair back and standing.
Sarah nodded to the men before following him out. She found her cloak hanging in the foyer and Tristan wrapped it around her shoulders.
“You really should wear something warmer.”
“I make do,” she said, thinking how it saw her through the harsh winter.
He offered his arm to her and she accepted. “I am sorry the Colonel offended you.”
“It’s not him, I’m just sick of this war.”
“Well if it makes you feel better, it isn’t expected to last. I would give it six months tops.”
“And whom do you figure to be victorious?”
“The good King of course,” Tristan replied disdainfully, and Sarah looked at him thoughtfully.