Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (11 page)

Humor danced in her blue eyes. "1 may be short, but I walk tall."

The laughter left his eyes as he thought about all she had been forced to endure. "Yes, my dearest sister, you cast an extremely tall shadow."

It was early afternoon when Lavender said good-bye to her brother. Locked in his arms, she realized she might never see him again. "Have courage," he said as if he read her mind. "The days will pass, and I will soon come for you and we will be a family again." He hugged her tightly. "I don't believe I have properly thanked you for saving my life." "I need no thanks. You are my brother." He smiled. "I thank you all the same." A lump formed in her throat. She couldn't find words to express her sadness. As he mounted his horse, he gave her a big smile. She watched him until he was out of sight, willing herself to think only of the time when they would be together again.

Pushing her sadness aside, she went into the barn and gathered up her discarded clothing. Carefully she folded her white gown and placed it in a leather valise. She walked out into the sunshine and quickly strapped the bag to her saddle. With practiced ease, she mounted her horse and rode up beside Nicodemus.

"Time will pass, Lavender," Nicodemus assured her. "You have been burdened with more than your share of hurts, but the day will come when you will win out."

Through Lavender's tears she managed to smile. "Sometimes you talk in riddles, Nicodemus, but I like what you say nonetheless." She kicked her horse in the flanks, and the animal bounded forward.

All afternoon they kept on the move. Occasionally they would dismount and walk beside the horses to rest them. It had been dark for several hours before the weary travelers halted for the night, and only then because they felt the horses could go no farther.

Tonight there was no deserted barn to offer them sanctuary, so Lavender lay beneath the shadow of a majestic old oak tree, watching the branches sway with the breeze. Nicodemus bedded down nearby so he could keep a watchful eye on her.

Lavender's voice broke the silence. "Nicodemus, do you think he will come back to Aunt Amelia's home?"

He didn't need to ask who she was referring to. He knew she spoke of Julian West. "He might since he has no way of knowing you live in Williamsburg."

"What would a man with his title be doing here, Nicodemus?"

"I cannot even venture to guess, but it sure bears thinking about."

"You heard what went on between the duke and myself in the garden that night, didn't you, Nicodemus?"

"Yes," he readily admitted. "I wasn't eavesdropping, I was but keeping an eye on you. I was not sure if he had discovered who you were. When I saw you running away, I pulled up behind the hedge."

"Did you know his real name is Julian Westfield, and he is an English duke?"

"No, I did not hear you speak his name and I know little about English nobility, but I gathered he was of some importance since you referred to him by a title."

"I am very confused about many things, Nicodemus. I was not prepared to see him at Comwallis's gala."

"I know."

"Nicodemus, do you believe it is possible to love one's enemies?"

"I am not an expert on matters of the heart, Lavender. But I have a notion that one does not choose where they love. It is my feeling that the choice is predestined."

Lavender had never heard Nicodemus speak of matters concerning the heart. She tried to envision him as a man in love and failed. "Did you ever love a woman?"

He laughed. "I believe love is too strong a word to describe what I felt in my youth. It is not easy for a bond servant to offer his heart to a woman."

"I seem to recall Aunt Amelia saying you were a young man when you became indentured to my father."

"Yes, but your father never made me feel like a bond servant. He had me well educated, which would have never happened had I remained with my ma and pa. My workload was always light, and your father always treated me with respect. He allowed me to be his friend, rather than a servant."

"Do you never wonder about your own family? Surely you yearn to see them again."

He stared at the way the stars winked against the backdrop of the ebony sky. "My ma and pa had twelve offspring. I cannot recall a time when either of them said a kind word to me. I had heard that all my brothers and sisters had been sold as indentured servants. There is no way to find them now. I wouldn't even know where to look. I can only hope they were sold to a kind master, and have fared as well as I."

"I hope so, too, Nicodemus. You are so much a part of my life, I cannot imagine what it would be like without you."

He knew he could never make her understand that his main concern in life was looking after her. She and Chandler had been left to him, kind of like a sacred trust. "It is not easy to pick up the threads of your life, once you have dropped them. I am contented with my life as it is."

"I have often wondered why you never left us after your indentured time was over. I am sure my aunt does not pay you all that well."

"As I said, I am contented with my life as it is."

She felt sad for the life that Nicodemus had led. Not that he had ever complained about his lot in life. What a pity he had never married and had children of his own, because he would have been a kind and loving parent.

She turned over on her side, and closed her eyes, wishing the ache in her heart would go away. Thoughts of Julian Westfield were weaving their way through her consciousness. By now, the British may have connected her as being the woman who helped the prisoners escape. If so, Julian would soon know the woman he had walked with in the garden was the Swallow.

He must have realized that his identity had been uncovered. Surely he would never return to Williamsburg. She had to be prepared never to see him again. Lavender's mind was in a muddle. Even if he did come back to her aunt's house, there was always the danger he might recognize her as the woman at the Cornwall's that night. How he would loathe her if he ever discovered who she really was.

Soon Lavender and Nicodemus would be back in Williamsburg, and she would have to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, when in truth her life had changed so dramatically she doubted she would ever again be the same person.

Nicodemus's voice broke the silence. "Lavender."

"Yes."

"Go to sleep now. Problems always look mountainous at night. Tomorrow will be soon enough to start fretting about your troubles."

"Good night, Nicodemus," she said, yawning, her tired body relaxing into her soft bed of leaves.

"Good night," he answered, feeling her heartbreak in the very depth of his own heart. He realized that Lavender had strong feelings for Julian Westfield, and he hoped for her sake it was only a passing fancy. There could be no future for her as far as the English duke was concerned. Like Lavender, he wondered what had brought Julian Westfield to Williamsburg in the first place. He doubted the Englishman had come in search of the Swallow . .. but just in case he had, Nicodemus would be watchful.

Outside Richmond

A sudden rainstorm and high winds had caused the temperature to drop dramatically. Inside the common room  of the  Spartan Inn several British soldiers huddled around the huge fireplace, basking in its warmth. A sour-faced innkeeper moved among them, refilling empty mugs with mulled wine and grumbling under his breath about the late hour.

In the corner, next to the stairs, Julian sat at a table conversing with Colonel Grimsley. "I do not feel this is the appropriate place for a meeting," Julian observed, showing his contempt for the quaint surroundings. "There are too many people here who might know me."

"Begging your pardon, Your Grace," Colonel Grimsley spoke up. "This inn is off the main road. Besides, I assumed since you attended Cornwallis's gala as yourself the other night, there was no longer the need to keep your identity a secret."

"I made the . . . blunder ... of being overconfident," Julian said as if admitting to a mistake came hard to him. "It was folly on my part, as well as an error in judgment, to think I could be myself in the company of our own officers. It could have resulted in disaster— but, let us hope not."

"Perhaps not. After all, you now know what the Swallow looks like, Your Grace."

"Yes, but don't forget she also knows what / look like. And she has an advantage over me, because she knows who I am, and I have no notion as to her true identity."

"I am sorry, Your Grace."

Julian nodded at the soldiers who stared in their direction. "By tomorrow the whole of the British Army will know of tonight's meeting. Most probably they will also know each of our names."

Colonel Grimsley lowered his eyes. "I am sorry. I never thought... I assumed that since this inn is so far out of town and the weather was so foul we would have the place to ourselves."

Julian leaned back in his chair and studied the flickering candle that sat in the middle of the table. "If you thought that, then you have little understanding of the men you command. I never knew a soldier worth his salt that would allow anything so insignificant as a storm to keep him from an evening drinking with friends, however remote the location."

Grimsley spoke in an uncertain tone. "Should we leave, Your Grace?"

"No, that will not be necessary since the harm is already done." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I have a plan which I hope will bring the Swallow out of hiding. I am going back to Williamsburg to put my strategy into motion."

"But, Your Grace, if she knows you, will you not be putting your life in danger by returning to Williamsburg?" *

"That is the chance I will have to take. I will need you to help me carry through with my plan. I cannot use Wilson, since his face is already known to the. Swallow."

"1 stand ready to help you in any way I can," the colonel announced. "You have only to tell me what to do, and I will do it."

Julian lowered his voice. "Cleave Wilson has learned that the Swallow receives her orders through the hospital at Williamsburg. If we are clever, we can use this information against her."

"What do you want me to do?" Colonel Grimsley asked.

"You will go to Yorktown and take a room at the Swan Tavern. You will pose as a merchant from North Carolina. Do you think you can alter your voice to any degree?"

"I will try, Your Grace," Colonel Grimsley said, doing a bad imitation of a southerner.

Julian's jaw tightened and his eyelids flickered. "When the time comes, you must not talk any more than is necessary. If my plan is successful, the Swallow will come to the Swan Tavern looking for you. Should she contact you there, you are to let me know immediately."

"I don't understand, Your Grace. What would the Swallow want with me?"

"We are going to use Wilson's informant to feed her false information. She will seek you out because she will be told that you have something she wants."

"What?" Grimsley asked.

Julian removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the colonel. "This is what she will come for."

Grimsley looked confused and kept turning it over in his hand. "But there is nothing written on this paper, Your Grace."

"You know that, and I know that, but the Swallow will not know it. She will be told that you have a list of names that will mean death for many of her fellow spies." His eyes grew even darker. "You will set up an appointment to meet her. When she arrives, you will direct her to me. 1 will be waiting for her upstairs, Grimsley."

"How will I know when 1 have made contact with her, Your Grace?"

"Cleave Wilson has been very clever there. His man has found out the password that is always given to the Swallow. If a woman comes to the tavern whom you suspect might be the Swallow, you will say to her, 'What flower grows in the winter'."

Colonel Grimsley looked taken aback. "What will she answer back, Your Grace?"

Julian looked irritated. "How would I know? That is of no consequence. All you need to do is verify that she is the Swallow."

"Since you have seen her, could you tell me what she looks like, so I will know what to expect?"

Julian's eyes burned as if a fire had been ignited in their brown depths. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Her hair is like corn silk, only softer and more golden. Her eyes are the bluest blue you could ever imagine. Her voice is soft and husky, and when she moves it is with such grace she seems to float on air."

Colonel Grimsley shook his head. "You did get a good look at her, Your Grace. I shouldn't have any trouble recognizing her with your description. I have a strong inclination that she will not escape us this time."

Julian stood up. "If this strategy works, it is but a matter of days until it reaches its conclusion, Colonel. I am leaving my valet, Hendrick, with you. When you make contact with the Swallow, he will know where to find me."

"Are you leaving now, Your Grace?"

"Yes, it is a long way to Williamsburg, and I am anxious to get started."

"I still do not think it is wise to return to Williamsburg now that the Swallow knows who you are."