Faithfully Yours (4 page)

Sebastian only had time to bid his host a hasty good night as Mistress Faith pushed past him and out the door. The scent of starch and soap flowed toward him as he followed. When he glanced back, he saw a wide grin on his host's face. It was undoubtedly a pleased grin.

If Cromwell was happy, his daughter was not. Sebastian ducked his head to miss the low wall over the risers and hurried to catch up with her as she barely paused at a landing where the stairs divided. She turned to the right without bothering to check to see if he was behind her.

“Seeing you here was quite a surprise,” he said as he matched his steps to hers along a long hallway.

“It was?”

When she added nothing else, he recalled that she had been taciturn, save when she was angry. Was she always this way? He was curious to discover that—and more.

“Your father is very hospitable,” he added.

“Yes.”

“And trusting.” He stepped in front of her and stopped, forcing her to, as well. “There is no one here but you and me, Mistress Faith.”

“My family is all about.”

“In the other wing of the house.” He smiled, as he rested his hand on the wall. “Your father made quite sure that I should know that fact.”

“He does not wish you to be disturbed.”

He chuckled. “I think you are quite wrong about that. I think he would like me to be most disturbed.”

She ducked under his arm and hurried along the passage. “I have no idea what you mean.

In a pair of long steps, he intercepted her again. When she scowled at him, he almost laughed. Her father's intentions were quite clear. Was her outrage a pose or honest? He had to know.

“He would like me to be disturbed by you, Mistress Faith.”

Her eyes grew as round as her mouth. Before he could surrender to the temptation to kiss those lips, a young voice echoed along the hall.

She whirled and called out, “What are you doing here? You should be asleep by now.”

Two little girls rushed up. Again Sebastian found himself staring, because the children were nigh to identical. They could be no more than seven or eight years old. Of one thing he was certain. Their bright red hair and delicate features marked them as Mistress Faith's sisters. He wondered how many others lived in this expansive house.

“We heard hoofbeats,” said one of the girls.

“Lots of them,” added the other.

“Molly and Nancy.” Mistress Faith put one hand on each head. “This is Major Kendrick. Now that you have seen him, go back to bed.” Giving them a push back in the direction they had come from, she opened a door. “This is your room, Major.”

It was more comfortable than he had expected after a fortnight of traveling through the countryside. Beside a small table with a single chair, a stand with a bowl and ewer was topped by a small glass. Three pegs by the room's single window would hold his clothes while he slept. The rope bed was topped by a tick that did not smell musty. Clean bedding was folded on a chest at the foot of the bed.

“Faith, the bed isn't ready.” The little girl frowned. He was not sure if she was Molly or Nancy, for they scurried around the room like squirrels hunting for winter fodder. “Mother wants the beds always ready for guests.”

“It must have been an oversight. I shall send for—”

He kept a smile from his face as he said, “My day has been long. I trust this will be done quickly.”

One little girl said, “We can do it, can't we?” She rushed to the bed and began to unfold the blanket on the chest. “Let us help, Faith.”

“They are welcome to help, Mistress Faith.” He loosened the buttons on his coat. “Do not begrudge them this pleasure, although I would not have guessed anyone would have such enthusiasm for the task.”

Faith clenched her hands at her sides. The twinkles in Major Kendrick's eyes divulged the thoughts he was trying to keep hidden. His words might be charming, but he expected her and her family to replace the servants he must have been accustomed to in England. However, she could not fail to help now. Father would be furious if she was rude to a guest.

“Yes, Molly,” she said, “you may do this. I will help you.”

“That is not necessary,” Major Kendrick said with a smile.

She did not return it. All she wanted was to finish making the bed and take her leave. Snapping out the sheets, she was not surprised when Molly ran to join Nancy in looking at the fancy trim on the major's coat. She resisted shouting a warning to stay away from him. She must not do anything to cause trouble for her family or create questions in the major's mind.

“From my father, the Earl of Kendrick,” the major was saying as Faith finished spreading out a quilt on the bed.

Faith struggled to keep her smile from vanishing as he pointed to a ring he wore. Why did he keep Molly and Nancy prattling on and on? Her sisters would be glad to stay and talk because they could avoid going to bed. Did he wish to keep them here longer? When he looked over Molly's head, she knew, with a sinking sensation, that he was using them as an excuse to keep her here.

“Come along,” she said, forcing her voice to sound cheerful. “Time to let the major get his sleep.”

With squeals and giggles, the girls called a good night.

“Won't you tell me good night, as well, Mistress Faith?” He leaned his shoulder against the door as he gave her a roguish smile.

“Good night,” she replied, refusing to be quelled before his bold gaze. And why shouldn't he be bold? He believed Father had sent her up here so that he could court her. “I trust you will sleep well. It shall be much quieter without the girls here to bother you with their questions.”

“But they didn't ask the one question you wish to ask, did they?”

“When you are leaving?”

His smile grew as frigid as his eyes. “No, that is not the question I meant, although it is clear that thought is seldom far from your pretty lips.”

He ran his finger along her lower one, and she jumped back as the lightning-hot caress scalded her. When she bumped into the wall, he put out his hands to steady her. He drew them back when she edged away.

“You want to know why I'm here, don't you, Mistress Faith?”

“Your duties are your own, Major.”

He did not let her slip out the door. “My duties are simple, albeit twofold. Your father's house will be the center of the planning to keep the Continental Congress from fleeing farther toward the Pennsylvania frontier.”

Why was he telling her this? Was he hoping to catch her repeating his words into an enemy's ear?

As if he were privy to her thoughts, he smiled. “That duty—and my other—shall be known throughout the county before the week is out, I am sure.” He put his hand on the wall just above her shoulder, a motion that seemed too intimate.

“And what is your other duty?” She did not want to ask, but she was sure that he would not end this conversation until she did.

His expression grew feral. “To hunt down and hang those who are smuggling supplies and spying for General Washington.”

Three

The wind pulled at Faith's cloak as she scattered corn for the chickens. Beside her, Ezekial was oddly quiet. Whenever they did this chore, he made more noise than the hens. But not today.

“I wish they would leave,” he murmured when she asked what was bothering him.

“They?”

“The British soldiers.” He aimed a glare at her. “Do not act as if you are happy to have them here when I know you would rather have had them leave with the sun's rise.” He wagged a finger at her, as Mother often did to him. “You need not deny it. Molly and Nancy told me how that British major kept you talking last night when you wished to be gone.”

Faith tossed more corn toward the hens. “Molly and Nancy were supposed to be in bed.”

“'Tis a good thing they were not. You should not be alone with a man who is looking at you the way Major Kendrick does.” He shook his finger at her again. “And do not tell me that I am too young to take notice of such things.”

“I would not, not when it is clear that you have.”

“So what will you do?”

“I will be polite to Father's guests. It is our obligation as hosts to make our guests comfortable.” She gave him a bolstering smile. “Comfortable. Nothing more.”

Ezekial nodded. “You are right, Faith, although I hate to have to agree. Treating them poorly will anger Father.”

“Finish feeding the chickens while I tend to the horses.”

“No!”

She turned to her brother. He was seldom so vehement. When he pushed past her, she asked, “Ezekial, what is wrong?”

“You must not go into the barn while there are strangers in there. Father said that.”

“Not to me.”

“Maybe because he believes you have too much good sense to go into a barn when there are strange men about.”

She smiled wryly. “Now I have to be the one to admit that he is right, and so are you. I have fallen into such a pattern of doing chores that it is easy to forget that everything is not the same as it was before the war began.”

Her brother gave her a quizzical glance before walking toward the barn. Faith let her smile fade, knowing that Ezekial had every reason to be baffled. To speak the truth would insult Father's guests and reveal her own bewilderment about Major Kendrick.

The British major had been polite and gracious and concerned about her safety. He had not acted on the thoughts she had seen in his eyes. Was it because he had treated her with more respect than any of his fellow soldiers that she could not budge him from her mind? Her first thought upon waking this morning had been of how his grin had a boyish charm about it.

Tossing more corn to the chickens, she paused by the fence that surrounded her mother's kitchen garden. She wished Major Kendrick and his men would take their leave, but, as she saw the soldiers tending to their mounts in front of the bigger barn, she guessed they would be here at least another day. Avoiding Major Kendrick would not be simple. Father was certain to invite the major to dine with them, as he had other officers.

Her smile returned. A few words to Molly and Nancy would keep the conversation lively and away from any topic that might be disturbing. Her sisters had found a rabbit last week, and they needed only the slightest hint to begin babbling about it.

“… and, of course, you know my daughter Faith.”

She stiffened as Father approached with Major Kendrick. Why did this British officer have to have such a warm smile? It suggested that he was not a rutting beast like his fellow soldiers. And that smile seemed to ease the cold of the wind swirling about her and twisting his cloak, which was the same shade as his black hair.

Faith told herself not to be fanciful. Major Kendrick was simply more charming and subtle than some of the others who had called here. She would be the greatest sort of fool to think of him in any other way, especially when his flapping cape gave him the appearance of a great dark hawk about to swoop down upon her.

“Good day, Mistress Faith,” Major Kendrick said with a half bow toward her.

“If you like days that are cold and blustery and look as if rain might come at any moment,” she replied.

He laughed. “You are describing many of the days at Kendrick Court. I find this invigorating weather much more pleasing than the heat of the summer. A brisk walk or ride, then a mug of something warm by a broad hearth is an excellent way to pass the day.”

“I believe there is still some tea in the tea chest in the dining room.” Father smiled at Major Kendrick. “Unless you would prefer a sip of brandy later. Or you might ask Faith to make you some of her mulled cider. It is renowned throughout the area.”

“Is that so?” The expression in Major Kendrick's ebony eyes did not match his smile, for his gaze became as chilly as the breeze. “I had no idea that your daughter had traveled so widely, Cromwell.”

“She has many friends around Goshen.” Father patted her shoulder. “My daughter is very kindhearted.”

“So I have seen. Was your delivery of clothing uneventful yesterday, Mistress Faith?”

“Otherwise, yes,” she answered.

Faith thought her father would ask what she meant, but he began to point out landmarks that were visible from the yard. Wanting to walk away because she was bothered that her father might be giving this Englishman the very information that could lead to more killing, she did not move. Father stood on one side of her and Major Kendrick on the other. She must wait for a break in their conversation to excuse herself.

A shout came from the house.

Father's smile grew even wider. “Pardon me, Major. While I tend to this, Faith will be glad to answer any of your other questions about the roads through the county.” He went at a near run toward the front of the house.

“He is a very busy man.” Sebastian knew he should go after Cromwell to discover what was happening. When he saw Osborne leave the other men in the barnyard and trot after Cromwell, he relaxed. His lieutenant would report back every detail in an effort to gain favor.

“Yes,” Faith said, spreading more corn for the chickens although scores of kernels were underfoot.

“However, it seems that your father is anxious for you and me to talk once again.”

“Yes.”

He did not give voice to the curse resonating through his head. These terse answers must be aimed at infuriating him. If so, she was succeeding.

“Do you know why?” he asked.

She gave him a contemptuous glance. Maybe she wanted him to feel like a fool rather than just be angry. Walking into the smaller of the two barns behind the house, she hung the bucket on a nail behind a half-wall. “I have heard much prattle about the fancy gatherings in England where young women flirt with young men.”

“Yes?”

Her eyes widened at his copy of her brusque answers, but she folded her arms on the half-wall and smiled. “No matter how you view us here in Pennsylvania, Major, we are not so different from our cousins on the other side of the ocean. My father is very much like your father would be, assuming your father has a daughter he believes should be thinking of a husband.”