Behind the door was a small private parlor. It faced the back of the building, so it was much quieter and cooler, the room decorated with velvet curtains to keep out the heat or cold, depending on the season, and several padded chairs grouped around a rectangular table. Jocelyn supposed the room was used by ship captains or other higher-ranking sailors when they wanted a quiet meal or a place to have a private conversation. At the moment, the parlor had only one occupant, and he sat at the head of the table, nursing a tankard of ale. Richard Kinney smiled at Jocelyn and invited her to sit down.
“You’re looking well, if a bit hot,” he observed.
“It’s hot as hell out there,” Jocelyn replied, knowing Richard wouldn’t be shocked by such a sentiment coming from a woman.
“It’s like hell’s very own kitchen,” he agreed, loosening his stock a little. His face was flushed, and the linen of the stock was limp with sweat.
“Don’t feel you have to suffer on my account,” Jocelyn said. “Take off your coat.”
Richard threw her a grateful look and removed the coat, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’ve ordered some food. I hope you like roast beef and potatoes.”
Jocelyn wasn’t in the mood for a heavy meal, not in this heat, but she nodded. Richard clearly had something other than food on his mind if he’d invited her there. She’d thought Thomas would join them, but he excused himself and went to have a pint at the bar, probably to keep an eye out for anyone who might show too much interest in whoever was dining in the private parlor and to give them some privacy.
A few minutes later, the man she’d seen earlier brought two plates of roast beef and a pitcher of ale. He set them on the table and left without saying a word. Richard eyed the food with obvious appreciation. “I’m starving,” he said. “Haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. The wife took our girls to see her folks. They have a farm in New Jersey. It’s nice for them to be out in the fresh air, and there’s a lake nearby,” he added wistfully. “My father-in-law takes the girls fishing when the weather is fine.”
“That must be lovely,” Jocelyn said. In her mind’s eye, she could see this lake, its mirrorlike surface reflecting the leafy trees that promised cool shade on a hot day, the air filled with birdsong and the smell of grass and wildflowers. And in the distance, a sturdy white farmhouse with chickens pecking in the front yard, an orange cat dozing in the sun, and a great red barn, the paint vibrant against the blue of the summer sky. She’d give anything to spend an afternoon in such a place, to shed her persona like a snake sheds its skin and just be the girl she’d been before her parents had died and before the war had begun, when her life had been peaceful and happy.
“Jocelyn, you’re doing a stellar job,” Richard said, startling her out of her reverie. “Your information has been instrumental in planning some of our operations.”
“Thank you,” Jocelyn said, smiling with pleasure. “I’m glad I’m able to help.”
Richard nodded and continued to eat. Jocelyn took a bite of her own food, wondering why he was stalling. Richard wasn’t the type to start from afar, but he hadn’t asked her to come all this way just to tell her she was doing well and break bread with her.
Finally, he put down his knife and fork and faced her across the table. “Major Radcliffe seems to like you,” he said. “It’s not every employer who invites his maidservant to dine with him and regales her with stories of his youth.”
“I think he’s just lonely and wants to talk to someone who’s not military personnel,” Jocelyn replied.
“And you like him.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact.
“He’s been good to me,” Jocelyn replied carefully. She pushed away her plate, the smell of the meat suddenly making her queasy.
“Jocelyn, we need you to get closer to Major Radcliffe. We believe an attack on our troops in Pennsylvania is imminent. If we had a clearer idea of which direction that attack will come from and when the British mean to strike, we’d be better prepared.” Richard’s gaze was intent, his mouth pursed.
Jocelyn felt as if a bucket of scalding water had just been upended over her head. Her breath came in short gasps, drops of sweat sliding down between her breasts as her stomach threatened to empty itself of its contents.
“Are you suggesting I become his mistress?” she asked incredulously.
“A man will reveal many secrets in his least guarded moments,” Richard replied, his gaze still pinning her to the spot. “The information you obtain can save countless lives.”
Jocelyn sucked in a shuddering breath. “You are asking me to trade my body, my very honor, for information.”
“I am not asking, Jocelyn. I’m suggesting. No one can make that decision but you.”
“No one has the right to ask that of me,” Jocelyn snapped. “I am risking my life for the cause, but I will not go to his bed and allow him to—” She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words. The very idea was repellant.
Richard nodded and turned his attention back to his food. He ate in silence for a few moments, allowing Jocelyn time to compose herself. “Captain Denning is young and handsome,” he said, finally glancing up from the plate.
“And that makes it more acceptable, does it?” Jocelyn demanded, outraged.
“Is your virtue not worth the lives of hundreds of men?” Richard asked, all pretense at sympathy and understanding now gone. “You might even enjoy it,” he added, smiling at her in a way that made her blood run hot and cold at the same time. “Don’t you get lonely, spending night after night by yourself? You weren’t so fussy before,” he said softly.
“What?” Jocelyn asked, uncomprehending.
“Come, Jocelyn, surely you indulged in an affair or two in your theater days. What beautiful young actress doesn’t? You had so many admirers, and a woman on her own can always benefit from such an arrangement.”
Jocelyn stared at him, understanding dawning. Richard had asked her to spy for the cause for that very reason. He’d hoped she’d be seduced by the major and pass back the kind of information a man would only reveal in bed, but since she hadn’t, he was now asking her outright.
“A few months ago, you advised me not to draw attention to myself. You said you’d pull me out if I ever felt threatened, and now you’re asking me to prostitute myself to these men,” she hissed, so angry she could barely breathe.
“Things have changed, Jocelyn. If the British take Philadelphia, the war is as good as lost. General Washington’s army is all that stands between us and a crushing defeat, and if that army is decimated in battle…”
“You can’t seriously suggest that the only thing that stands in the way of a Continental victory is the refusal of one woman to spread her legs for the enemy.” She didn’t care if she was being crude; she simply couldn’t bring herself to agree to what Richard was proposing.
“As I said, only you can make that decision.”
“My decision was made before you lured me here. I will not do what you ask. I will try to find out what I can, but it won’t be through prostitution.”
Richard pushed away his plate and took a long pull of ale. “Any information you can provide us with regarding the planned attack is invaluable. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Jocelyn. That was never my intention. There are others,” he said, his gaze sliding away from her for a moment, “who are willing. Both men and women. They’re prepared to make a sacrifice for their country.”
“Does General Washington know you encourage his agents to barter their souls?” Jocelyn asked. She couldn’t believe the gall of the man.
“It’s not something that’s openly discussed, but sex and espionage have always gone hand in hand.”
“Have they?” Jocelyn demanded angrily.
“You know they have.”
“Thank you for luncheon, Richard,” Jocelyn said as she tossed her napkin onto the table. “I think it’s time I returned home.”
“Think on what I said,” Richard said, making no move to get up. “If
you change your mind, we will be grateful. If not, then we will continue as before. Nothing has changed.”
Everything has changed, Jocelyn thought as she marched from the parlor, pushed her way through the taproom, and stepped outside into the infernal heat.
“Are you all right?” Thomas asked as he caught up with her.
“Did you know about this?” Jocelyn demanded, taking her anger out on the poor man.
“I do not know what you spoke about,” Thomas replied.
“Are you sure about that? Did Richard not encourage you to exert pressure on me?”
“Pressure to do what?”
“To invite myself into the major’s bed. Or Captain Denning’s. Or both,” she exclaimed, feeling a bit hysterical.
Thomas looked genuinely shocked. “He asked that of you?”
“He did. I assumed you were in on the plan.”
Thomas shook his head vehemently. “I wasn’t. I’m sorry, Jocelyn. I would never ask that of you, or anyone else. Please tell me you refused.”
“I have, but he made me feel like a traitor, a coward, someone who puts their own selfish needs before the lives of others.”
“He crossed the line, Jocelyn. I cannot and will not defend his methods or his treatment of you.” Thomas looked genuinely distressed.
“Has he ever asked you to do something like that?” Jocelyn asked as they walked toward Broadway Street. Thomas was a good-looking young man, the type of man women noticed and flirted with shamelessly.
“No.”
“And if he had?”
Thomas colored, averting his gaze. “Jocelyn, it’s different for men. A man can take many lovers and still be considered a decent fellow, while a woman is expected to remain pure until marriage.”
“So, you’re saying you would do it,” Jocelyn prodded.
“I suppose I would,” Thomas confessed. “If I knew it’d make a real difference.”
“Even if the woman was old enough to be your mother?”
“Some older women are quite attractive,” Thomas replied lamely.
“You’re disgusting,” Jocelyn spat out. “The lot of you. You’d stick your cock into anything that has a heartbeat, and not for the cause, but for your own selfish pleasure. Well, don’t expect me to compromise myself just because you would.”
Jocelyn began to walk faster, Thomas trotting alongside to keep up with her. “Jocelyn, I never meant—”
“Never meant what?” she snapped.
“Never meant to imply that you should agree. As I said, it’s different for women.”
“Yes. It is. Now bugger off.”
Jocelyn turned her back on him and ran, unable to continue the conversation for a moment longer. She was appalled, but also truly shocked to discover that her compatriots were not averse to getting information in any way necessary. She understood that this was a matter of life and death, and the defeat of Washington’s army could spell the end of the rebellion, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to entertain the idea of offering herself to Major Radcliffe.
Having returned to the house, Jocelyn retreated to her room, tore off her gown and hose, and lay on the bed in her shift, the linen sticking to her flushed skin. Would it be as easy as Richard had suggested to begin an affair? Jocelyn closed her eyes and tried to imagine kissing Hector Radcliffe. She’d been kissed a few times, but that was the extent of her sexual experience. There were always actresses who took lovers from among their admirers and often relied on their financial support, but Jocelyn had always made her own way, dubious that a permanent relationship could ever be possible.
But it was. Sometimes. Anna Reid had met her partner in just such a way. Carole had been married then and had come to the theater with her husband, Dr. Ford, but the two women had struck up a friendship after Carole had come to see Anna again, on her own this time. They had begun an intimate relationship after Dr. Ford passed away three years ago. Until then, Jocelyn hadn’t even known such an arrangement was possible, but Anna and Carole seemed happy, and loved each other as much as any married couple of Jocelyn’s acquaintance. Of course, they didn’t publicize their romance and allowed everyone to believe that they were simply housemates, sharing lodgings to save on cost and have a bit of company.
Would I feel differently if I were no longer a virgin? Jocelyn asked herself as she fanned herself with a newspaper, stirring the heavy air with little result. Would it no longer matter? It was impossible to know how she might feel if she were widowed or had chosen to indulge in a premarital affair, but the very idea of Major Radcliffe touching her as a lover was utterly bizarre. He was a nice man, educated and polite, but despite his good looks, she wasn’t attracted to him in the least.
She then considered Captain Denning. Richard was right, the captain was a handsome man, but he frightened her. She could envision the captain in battle: sword drawn, teeth bared, not a trace of fear in his eyes as he charged the enemy. She couldn’t see him losing a fight. Nor could she imagine him being tender with a woman. He’d be demanding in bed, her gut instinct told her. He needed a woman who’d be prepared to match his desire and wouldn’t be frightened by his intensity.
Strange how some men exuded that kind of sexual power, Jocelyn thought. She could easily visualize the captain in a state of undress, but the major may as well have been born in his uniform. It was hard to countenance that there was a man’s body beneath the smart uniform, or a man’s needs masked by the aristocratic façade.
Jocelyn curled into a ball. She’d shared a house with several men for months, but her thoughts had never strayed beyond her daily duties and her true purpose. But now she couldn’t help but think of them as men, sexual beings who might see her as something more than an efficient servant. She knew Captain Denning did, but she hadn’t given his invitation any serious thought. He was an enemy soldier. But perhaps she shouldn’t have dismissed his interest so quickly. She would never do what Richard had suggested, but perhaps she could have supper with the man and learn all she could. Would he be careless enough to share anything with her? Jocelyn tried to picture him in civilian clothes, but it proved harder than she’d thought. His uniform was as much a part of him as his ambition. She didn’t know much of the inner workings of men’s minds, but she did know Captain Denning planned to go far.
Chapter 54
The following morning, having made up her mind to try harder, Jocelyn smiled brightly at the captain when she brought him breakfast. “Lovely day,” she said, even though it was just as hot as it had been the day before, and possibly even more humid.
“Eh, yes,” he agreed, obviously taken by surprise. Jocelyn was never one to initiate conversation with him.
“You must be awfully warm in that wool coat,” Jocelyn said, genuinely sorry for the man.
“The summers here are certainly brutal,” Captain Denning said. “I’ve always hated English weather, but I do miss it now that I’ve been here for nearly two years.”
“Do you plan on returning to England?” Jocelyn asked, doing her best to appear interested. She had no idea what part of England he was even from.
“Once this war is won, I’m sure I’ll be sent someplace else. I do hope to get some leave before my next posting and go home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Bedfordshire.”
“Captain Denning, if you’re quite finished,” Major Radcliffe said as he strode through the door, “I have need of you.”
“Yes, sir.” Captain Denning pushed away his half-eaten breakfast and sprang to his feet. “Have a pleasant day, Mistress Sinclair.”
“And you, Captain,” Jocelyn replied demurely. “Perhaps we can go for a walk one evening,” she added softly, hoping the major hadn’t heard her brazen come-on.
The captain looked momentarily abashed but gave her a brief nod before leaving the dining room. Jocelyn exhaled the breath she’d been holding. There was no turning back now.
Captain Denning found himself unexpectedly free on Tuesday evening and ask
ed if Jocelyn might like to take the air. Jocelyn was finished for the day and agreed to go for a walk. The temperature had dropped somewhat, the evening pleasantly cool after days of relentless heat. They walked up Broadway, then turned left, heading toward the river. Jocelyn inhaled the briny smell, glad to be out of the house despite her nervousness. The captain walked alongside her, the sharp angles of his face softened by candlelight spilling from the windows of the houses or a lantern from a passing carriage.
“What made you change your mind?” he asked. “About taking a walk with me, I mean.”
Jocelyn looked down, unsure how to reply. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, but at the same time, she wanted him to feel flattered enough to believe she might be interested in him. “I don’t have many friends,” Jocelyn said shyly.
“You’re lonely,” he said, looking down at her.
“Sometimes.”
“I’m lonely too,” he admitted. “Working for the major is an excellent opportunity for advancement, but being quartered in his house isolates me from my regiment.”
“Do you have many friends in your regiment?” Jocelyn asked.
“I don’t know if I’d call them friends, but a man needs like-minded company in a time of war. It relieves the tension and makes the waiting more bearable.”
“Waiting?”
“For something decisive to finally happen.”
“Do you think something will happen soon?” Jocelyn asked, her heart fluttering with hope. Could it be this easy to get him to talk?
The captain shrugged. “Possibly.”
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 23