“Like what?” Jocelyn asked, giving him her best wide-eyed ingenue smile.
Captain Denning smiled. “I can’t talk about that. Why don’t you tell me about you? How is it that you’re not married?”
“No one has asked,” she replied coyly.
“I don’t believe that for a moment. You must have had dozens of offers.”
“Not from anyone I would have accepted.”
“What are you looking for in a man?” the captain asked, giving her a sidelong glance.
“Intelligence, charm, gentleness,” Jocelyn replied, listing the first three traits that sprang to mind.
“I can offer you two out of three,” Captain Denning said softly.
“Which one are you lacking?” she asked, even though she already knew. Was he self-aware enough to recognize his shortcomings?
“I’m not a gentle man, Mistress Sinclair. I suppose some would say that’s because no one has ever been gentle with me.”
“What about your mother? Was she not loving to you before she passed?”
“I don’t remember my mother. I was only two when she died. I was raised by my father, who’s probably the harshest man I know.”
“Did he beat you?”
“Regularly. He thought it built character,” Captain Denning replied without any rancor.
“And did it?”
“I suppose, to a degree.”
“Is your father still alive?” Jocelyn inquired.
“Yes, but he’s not in good health.”
“Who looks after him?”
“My younger sister, Judith.”
“And is he as harsh with her as he was with you?” Jocelyn asked.
Captain Denning chuckled. “He adores Judith. She’s always been the apple of his eye. Possibly because she rid him of the wife he’d loathed.”
“How do you mean?”
“My mother died giving birth to Judith.”
“Why did your father loathe your mother?” Jocelyn asked. Her parents had been devoted to each other, and her father had grieved for his wife until his own death. It was difficult to imagine a household that was filled with so much hatred.
“He said she was a whore. I think the reason he’d always been so cruel to me is because he never believed I was really his son. I don’t resemble him in the slightest. Judith, on the other hand, is the spitting image of him, so he had no reason to question her paternity.”
“Do you favor your mother in looks?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen a likeness of her, and I don’t remember her clearly.” Captain Denning stopped walking and looked down at her. “Forgive me, this conversation has turned rather maudlin. I didn’t invite you for a walk so that I could cry to you about the lack of love in my childhood. Let’s talk of something amusing.”
“Such as?”
“I’ve no idea,” he replied, laughing softly.
“I think it’s time we turned back,” Jocelyn said. “I have to be up early in the morning.”
“Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you out so late,” Captain Denning replied. “Mistress Sinclair, can I take you to supper next Sunday? We can go to a respectable tavern where other ladies will be present,” he added hastily to reassure her all would be above board.
“Yes,” Jocelyn said. “That would be nice. And you can call me Jocelyn.”
Captain Denning smiled. “That’s a beautiful name. I’m glad you changed your mind, Jocelyn,” he said.
Jocelyn looked up at him expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. “You didn’t tell me your Christian name.”
“Sorry. It’s Jared,” he replied, looking a bit bemused, probably because she was looking at him so intently. He really was attractive. “I very much enjoyed your company tonight,” Captain Denning said shyly.
Truth be told, she had enjoyed his company as well, and he had been the perfect gentleman throughout, only taking her by the elbow when a carriage had turned the corner just as they were about to cross the street. Supper with the captain would be a safe enough affair, as long as they were surrounded by other patrons and came straight back afterward.
Chapter 55
As the week wore on, Jocelyn told herself that she’d only agreed to join Captain Denning for supper because he was an invaluable source of information, but in truth, she was lonely and had enjoyed their walk. When on his own, his edges were not quite as sharp, and he had offered her a glimpse of a vulnerability he kept well-hidden when at home. Perhaps she had misjudged him. In any case, their conversation had been a welcome alternative to her sessions with Major Radcliffe. Although attentive and charming, the major was an actor in his own right and, like all actors, craved an audience while he delivered his soliloquy, for he prattled on about his life as if it were the most exciting tale Jocelyn could ever hope to hear.
She missed the company of people her own age, but the only person she got to see outside the major’s house was Thomas, who wasn’t her friend but simply a conduit of information. Was it disloyal to the cause to spend time with a British soldier? Perhaps, but she never intended her liaison with Captain Denning to go beyond the occasional meal or walk. She would never permit him to take any liberties with her, not even if it meant she might learn something in an unguarded moment.
On Sunday, having made her report to Thomas, Jocelyn returned to the house to get ready. She only had two gowns, one for work and one for church that had been provided by Richard and likely borrowed from some well-to-do matron sympathetic to the cause. They were nothing like the lovely dresses she’d worn before, but they were the type of garments a woman in her position would own. The work dress was an unrelieved gray, but the church gown had an apple-green bodice that went well with Jocelyn’s fair hair and served to underline her peachy complexion.
When at home, she tucked her hair into a linen cap, but today she decided to wear her hair uncovered, pinning it up at the back but allowing a few curls to frame her face. The cap made her feel like a drab. Jocelyn gazed at herself in the small looking glass Mrs. Johnson had lent her, surprised by what she saw. There was a glint of excitement in her eyes, and her cheeks were rosy, and not just because of the heat. She was filled with anticipation, excited to spend a few hours in the captain’s company.
Jocelyn set down the mirror and sat heavily on the bed. What was she playing at? Captain Denning was the enemy, a soldier who’d kill her countrymen without a second thought. He’d probably kill her if he knew what she was about. She should tell him she felt unwell and call the whole thing off. But even as the rational thoughts raced through her mind, she slowly stood and walked to the door, smiling shyly at the captain, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his tricorn beneath his arm.
“Ready?” he asked, returning her smile tenfold. “You look lovely.”
“Do I?” Jocelyn asked, her hand going to her hair in a gesture of false modesty. She knew she looked good, just as she knew that he admired her.
“You are beautiful,” Captain Denning replied breathlessly. “Shall we?”
He bowed to the major, who’d stepped out of the parlor to see what was going on.
“Where are you two off to?” the major asked, his lips pursing with disapproval.
“I’m taking Mistress Sinclair out for an early supper,” Captain Denning replied, his jaw tightening.
The major looked like he was about to rebuke the captain but seemed to change his mind. “Don’t keep her out too late,” he said in an icy tone.
“No, sir. I won’t.”
Major Radcliffe glared at Jocelyn, his eyes dark pools of displeasure. Jocelyn averted her gaze as she walked past him and stepped outside into the balmy haze of the late afternoon.
“I think he’s angry with us,” she said to the captain as they fell into step.
“I can’t imagine why,” Captain Denning replied, his brows knitted in consternation.
“Is there some military protocol regarding mixing with the help?” Jocelyn asked playfully, trying
to make light of the major’s obvious anger.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Captain Denning replied. “And I wouldn’t call this mixing. We’re simply going out for a meal. It’s not as if—” He went quiet, wisely deciding not to finish the sentence.
Jocelyn looked down, partly amused by his embarrassment and partly wary. She could guess what he’d been thinking, and the idea made her uncomfortable. Perhaps the major had a good reason for his reaction. If her relationship with Captain Denning went beyond friendship, living under the same roof might prove uncomfortable for them both and could lead to the loss of their positions. She didn’t think Captain Denning would mind a transfer overmuch, but she would certainly rue losing access to the major and the information he was privy to as a highly placed officer on General Howe’s staff.
“Don’t worry. I’ll smooth things over with the major,” Captain Denning said, looking down at her anxiously.
“I can ill afford to lose my position,” Jocelyn said.
“You won’t. I will formally ask the major for permission to court you,” the captain said, his blush turning a deeper shade of pink.
“Is this what this is? A courtship?”
“I would very much like it to be,” the captain replied. “I have the greatest admiration for you, Jocelyn. I hope you don’t think my intentions are anything less than honorable.”
I don’t know what to think, Jocelyn thought as she allowed him to take her arm while crossing the street to the tavern on the other side.
She hadn’t been to this tavern before. It was called the King’s Cross and boasted a slightly different clientele than the taverns just off Broadway Street, which were jammed with tommies and occasionally their unsavory companions. Jocelyn spotted several officers dining together, and there were a number of couples, the women well dressed and clearly respectable, not the type of company one paid for by the hour.
Captain Denning escorted her toward a back parlor, which was divided into four alcoves, the tall backs of the booths allowing extra privacy. He must have reserved a table in advance, since there was only one alcove left unoccupied. Captain Denning led her directly toward it.
“Good evening, Captain. Mistress,” the waiter said as they sat down. “Your usual?” he asked, looking to the captain.
“Do you like claret, Jocelyn, or would you prefer something else to drink?”
“Claret is fine,” Jocelyn replied. She suddenly wondered if Jared had brought other women here before her and felt a pang of irrational jealousy. The waiter bowed deferentially and went to fetch the wine.
“They know you here,” Jocelyn said, watching him.
“I come here nearly every Sunday,” Captain Denning replied. “This is the first time I’ve brought a companion, though,” he added, his gaze meeting hers.
“Do you normally dine alone?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you find it lonely?” Jocelyn asked.
“I’m quite used to being on my own. During the week, I’m expected to dine with the major, or other officers if we’re invited out, so one solitary meal feels more like a reward than a punishment.”
“You are not solitary now,” Jocelyn reminded him.
He smiled. “By choice.”
She felt heat rising in her cheeks. His gaze was so intimate.
“I hope you’re hungry. They do a good roast beef here,” he hastened to add, as though noticing her reaction to his words.
“Sounds good,” Jocelyn muttered, although she was heartily sick of roast beef. She should be grateful, she knew. Many people rarely ate beef, as it was too expensive, but she wasn’t very hungry these days and would have preferred lighter fare. The waiter returned with their claret, and they both tasted it at the same time, their gazes meeting over the rims of the glasses. Jocelyn was first to look away.
They made small talk until the waiter placed plates of roast beef accompanied by mashed potatoes and peas before them. Jocelyn took an experimental bite and nodded in appreciation. “Very good,” she said.
“I’m glad you like it. This is one of the places I’ll miss,” Captain Denning said.
“Are you expecting a transfer?” Jocelyn asked, surprised by his remark.
Captain Denning set down his knife and fork and looked at her thoughtfully, as if deciding exactly how much to share with her. “Not a transfer exactly, but I suspect we might be moving out soon.”
“To go where?” Jocelyn asked, hoping she didn’t sound too eager to hear the answer.
“Philadelphia.”
Jocelyn worked hard not to allow shock to show on her face. Philadelphia was the Continental capital. The British would have to defeat Washington’s army, camped at Brandywine, in order to get anywhere near the rebel-held city.
“Is an attack on Washington’s army imminent?” she asked, taking a dainty bite of roast beef just to have something to do with her trembling hands. Captain Denning nodded but didn’t elaborate.
Jocelyn thought frantically. She needed to find out more, but to ask too many questions would arouse the captain’s suspicion. “Will you be in the thick of it, Jared?” she asked instead, hoping he would take the question as concern for his well-being.
“Not very likely. As an aide-de-camp, my duties are mostly clerical in nature,” he replied bitterly. “I won’t be anywhere near the heart of the battle.”
“Do you wish to be?”
“I didn’t become a soldier to make lists,” Captain Denning replied. “Or cater to the whims of a vainglorious buffoon,” he added under his breath.
Jocelyn smiled in understanding. That was one way to describe the major. “I expect the battle will be bloody, and drawn out,” she said, desperate to glean something of value.
“Perhaps not,” the captain replied with a shrug.
“How could it not be?”
Captain Denning looked conflicted. He obviously wanted to tell her what was on his mind, but he was conscious of his duty and the need for discretion. His desire to impress her won out, however. “All I can tell you is that if the plan works, the Continentals won’t stand a chance.”
“What sort of plan?” Jocelyn asked, leaning in closer, her eyes widening as she gazed at him.
“The attack will come from an unexpected direction,” Captain Denning said. “Now, please don’t ask me any more questions. I can’t discuss military strategy, not even with someone as beguiling as yourself.”
“I wouldn’t understand the intricacies anyway,” Jocelyn said airily. “What do I know of military strategy?”
“It’s not as complicated as you might imagine. It’s all about common sense, really, which many military leaders seem to sorely lack.”
“What about General Howe? Does he lack common sense?”
“General Howe was endowed with more than his fair share. I have great respect for his tactics. If we had more men like General Howe, this war would have been won before it even had a chance to begin.”
“Do you really think so? Perhaps the conflict could have been avoided if the king had been more reasonable when it came to the needs of his subjects,” Jocelyn said, and instantly regretted the unguarded statement.
Captain Denning didn’t take offense. “I agree with you. The amount of money spent to fund the campaign against the Americans is probably tenfold compared to the loss in taxes Parliament would have suffered had they been more flexible. But, as I said, not everyone is endowed with common sense, especially not when it comes to politics.”
“I see your point,” Jocelyn said. To ask any more questions about the upcoming campaign would be risky, so she changed the subject. “Would you like to be stationed in Philadelphia?”
“I’d prefer to remain here,” he said softly, his meaning clear. “What will you do if Major Radcliffe decamps?”
“Find another position. I can’t afford not to work,” Jocelyn said. “Should I be looking already?” she asked, wondering how soon the army would be moving out of New York.
“Not just
yet. In a few weeks, perhaps.”
“That soon?”
Captain Denning nodded. “General Howe hopes to be installed in Philadelphia long before the winter is upon us.”
“He’s that confident of victory?” Jocelyn asked.
“He seems to be. It would certainly turn the tide of the war.”
Not if you get crushed, Jocelyn thought angrily. The Continental Army will not be so easy to defeat. “Perhaps it will turn the tide,” she agreed out loud. In our favor, she added silently.
Jocelyn pushed away her half-eaten supper. “I think we should be going,” she said, once the captain had finished his meal. “It’s getting late.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I did promise to have you back early.” The captain extracted several coins from his pocket and placed them on the table. “Too bad we don’t have time for a sweet.”
“Another time, perhaps,” Jocelyn said, and meant it. She would accept another invitation from the captain, and not only because he was a valuable source of information. She had enjoyed being here with him.
They stepped into the balmy night and walked in silence for a few moments. “Jocelyn, I hope you don’t think me presumptuous, but I would like to see you again. In private, I mean.”
“Even if the major forbids it?” she asked playfully, stopping to look up at him.
“He need never know,” the captain replied. He reached out and pulled her close, lowering his head to kiss her. His lips were soft, but his arms were like bands of steel. He was no doughy paper-pusher stuffed into a smart tunic. He was strong and fit, and aroused. Jocelyn drew back, taken aback by the intensity of his kiss. She’d never been kissed like that. She’d never allowed herself to be kissed like that, she amended. She took another step back, putting at least a foot between them.
“I’d like to go home now,” she said, more unsettled than she cared to admit.
“Of course.” Captain Denning offered her his arm. “I won’t apologize for kissing you,” he added. “Because I’m not sorry.” Jocelyn looked down to hide her smile.
“Thank you for a pleasant evening, Captain,” she said once they’d entered the house. The foyer was dark, the house quiet, but she sensed that Major Radcliffe was nearby, probably in the library, nursing a brandy as he read one of his beloved books on military strategy.
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 24