Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (6 page)

While Lavender's attention was drawn to the woman, Groves's hand slowly moved to the hilt of his rapier. She was alerted to the danger by the woman's warning shriek. With a quick motion, he brandished the blade and made a thrust at her.

Lavender was like liquid lightning; with a speed that surprised her opponent, her blade caught and held his thrust. For long moments, they were locked together in a struggle for supremacy. The Englishman had the greater strength. He was taller and stouter. But Lavender had been well trained at swordplay, and she did not know the meaning of fear.

High color drained from Groves's face and his mouth turned purple. He exerted his strength in an attempt to free his sword. At last, Lavender's blade rounded the Englishman's, and she sent his flying through the air to land at Julian's feet.

Julian wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword and Lavender tensed. She read the challenge in his eyes, and she knew he was toying with the notion of crossing blades with her himself. Julian smiled slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Bowing to her, he offered the weapon to Groves so the poor man could defend himself, as best he could, against the superior ability of his opponent.

The Englishman took the rapier, his face livid, his mouth etched in a scornful sneer. "Prepare to die. I have had enough of you, highwayman, upstart!"

Lavender's laughter was swift. She flourished her blade in a salute "You have not had near enough of me yet, sir, but you shall before I am finished with you."

Nicodemus quickly stepped forward between Lavender and Groves, his pistol aimed at the man's heart. Lavender motioned for Nicodemus to move aside. She was determined to teach this treacherous dog the lesson he deserved.

Julian watched as she became poised and graceful. When she sliced her deadly blade through the air, it was with trained accuracy. The notion that a woman could wield a sword, and do it better than most men he knew was a novel thought. It was inconceivable to him that any woman could best a man at swordplay, so he watched the proceedings with interest.

The clash of steel was the only sound that could be heard as the two rapiers met in battle. Groves drove forward, advancing and thrusting like a charging bull. As Lavender agilely sidestepped the charge, her rapier sliced through his coat sleeve ripping the material to within a hairsbreadth of the skin underneath.

Julian's eyes never left the slender figure in black. As rapiers clashed again and again, his admiration for the woman increased. It became apparent to him that she would soon come out the victor. What he did not know was if the contest would result in Groves's death.

Groves attacked straight on, and Lavender parried. She wielded her weapon agilely, expertly, with the grace of expert swordsmanship. She was playing with him, wearing him down. Her mind was clear, while he allowed anger to rule his thinking. With practiced ease, Lavender made the Englishman look like a bungling fool.

The blades crossed many times. Lavender would parry, and then thrust gracefully, while Groves stumbled backward, driven by the swishing blade that sang through the air like an avenging angel. The women passengers were gaping in disbelief, but even their eyes revealed the admiration they had for Lavender's master swordsmanship.

Perspiration poured from Groves's face, and his knees buckled under him. His jaw fell, his eyes widened in disbelief. How could this slender youth have beaten him? For beaten he was, he had .to admit. He had the superior strength, but it had not helped in a duel of wits and mastery. With one last effort to defend himself, he caught his opponent's forward thrust, and their rapier's locked. It was a moment of muscle against mastery. Everyone present held their breath to see who would come out winner. With a twist of her rapier handle, Lavender sent Groves's blade sailing through the air for a second time. This time her blade slashed across his chest, popping the brass buttons off his coat, one by one. When the blade came to rest against his throat, Groves's eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he stared in fright at his triumphant adversary.

"You have me, I cede!" he cried out, fearing to move an inch least the lethal blade draw blood. "You all heard me," he said in a shaky voice. "I gave ground."

Soft laughter emitted from behind the mask. "This is your lucky day, Groves. I always feel generous toward cowards and fools on Tuesdays."

"But this is not Tuesday, it's Thursday," Groves whispered fearfully.

She stabbed his wig with the end of her rapier and raised it in the air, revealing a near baldhead, with only scraggly wisps of red hair. "Thursday, you say. Well, you are still fortunate, for 1 am generous to traitors on Thursdays."

Groves fell to his knees, his eyes streaming with tears, his lips trembling. "Have mercy, sir, please, have mercy."

The young mother raised her hand to her mouth and stared at Lavender with admiration shining in her eyes. "I know who you are. You are the Swallow! Everyone admires what you have done for our country."

Lavender was silent for a moment. Apparently her disguise had not been effective, since her sex had been discovered. "I do not admit to that, madame. You have made a mistake."

The young mother's face reddened. "Oh, 1 hope I have not placed you in danger; I did not mean to give your identity away ... I was only—"

Lavender turned her gaze on Mr. Groves, hoping to discourage the young woman from further incriminating her. "Have you nothing to say in your defense, George Groves?"

The frightened man licked his lips nervously. "It was not I who took the document. I did not know it was anything of importance. You have to believe m—"

"I care not for your sniveling, sir." Lavender could feel the heat of Julian West's hot gaze, and she tried to ignore the fear he stirred in her heart. She tried to keep her attention aimed at the Englishman.

"Now that we have your name, George Groves, for your own well-being, may I suggest that you might find the climate healthier back in England."

Mr. Groves scrambled to his feet, and crammed his shaking hands into his pockets. "You ... are not going to kill me?"

Lavender tensed angrily. "As I told you before, today is your lucky day, sir, because I was given no orders to end your miserable existence. I have what I came for."

As Lavender backed toward her horse, Nicodemus motioned for the others to get back in the coach. George Groves lost no time in scampering up the two steps that took him inside.

Lavender swung herself into the saddle and watched the coachman climb up to the driver's seat and pick up the reins. The man tipped his hat and smiled at Lavender. "Had I known who you were, I would have given you no trouble. If I'd known I had an Englishman aboard today, I'd have helped you subdue him. I'll make sure he is transported to the nearest waterway and shown the way back to England. God's speed, Swallow."

Lavender raised her hand in a silent salute as the coach pulled away. Suddenly her eyes moved to Julian West, who stared at her from inside the coach. What was there about him that made her afraid? she wondered. Why did his dark eyes seem to see past her disguise and into her very soul?

As the coach rounded a bend to be hidden by the dense woods, Nicodemus mounted his horse and reined it in beside Lavender. "I take it you have what we were sent for?"

"Yes, Nicodemus, but I am sorely troubled about something."

"Do not fear that cowardly George Groves. He's afraid of his own shadow. I'm surprised the British chose a man of his cut to deliver such an important document."

"It's not him that concerns me, it's the other gentleman, Nicodemus."

"Ah, the tall, silent one. Do you think they were traveling together?"

"No, Nicodemus, but neither do I think that Julian West is from America. Unless there are two men with the name of Julian West, he is Aunt Amelia's new lodger, who claims to be from Georgia."

"That can be a stroke of bad luck," Nicodemus observed.

"Yes, and I have an ear for accents, so I could tell Mr. West is English to the bone. If he is from Georgia, then I am the Queen of France."

"Do you think he is a spy?"

"I don't know. I am only sure that he is not who he says he is."

Nicodemus's voice deepened with meaning. He knew Lavender well enough to trust her instincts. "Do you want me to make sure he don't show up in Williamsburg?"

"No, perhaps I am being overly cautious. I will have Brainard Thruston check on his background. In the meantime, we must be on guard. If he is a spy planted in our midst, we will have to calculate each move we make from here on out."

"I will be glad when the day comes that your services will no longer be needed, Lavender. You have done more than your share for liberty. I fear for you every time you are sent out on a mission."

"I admit I sometimes wish I had never been asked to play the spy, but then I remember my father's devotion to this cause. Knowing he gave his life for this country, I must do whatever I can to help."

"I don't think your father would approve of your placing your life in jeopardy."

Lavender remembered back to the night her father had been wounded and she had gone to Yorktown in his place. He had been filled with remorse when he learned of the danger she had faced and had begged her forgiveness for allowing her to go on such a perilous mission.

"Perhaps my father would not have approved of what I am doing, Nicodemus, but I believe he would have understood why I am doing it."

"I don't like you being involved in this business today, it's too dangerous. I intend to inform Brainard Thruston that the next time he needs someone to detain a coach, to get someone else."

The first drops of rain began to fall, and Lavender placed the precious document inside her cape so it wouldn't get wet. "It's over with, Nicodemus, and we were successful. I suggest we leave now and take the shortcut through the woods so we can make it home before Mr. Julian West arrives."

Half an hour later, Lavender and Nicodemus rode into the stables behind the hospital to find Forbes and his wife Sarah waiting anxiously for their arrival. No one would suspect Mr. and Mrs. Duncan of being spies, because they looked like everyone's kindly grandparents. Perhaps that was why they had been placed in the hospital as Lavender's contacts.

Sarah placed her arms around Lavender and led her into an empty horse stall, while Duncan and Nicodemus kept watch to make sure no one disturbed her while she dressed. "I declare, you are soaked to the skin. Here," Sarah said, handing Lavender something to dry with. "Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death."

Sarah was always astounded at the change that manifested when Lavender switched from the garments of the Swallow to the dark gowns she always wore as Lavender Daymond. As the Swallow, she was assured, confident, and bold. But as Lavender, she became unobtrusive and somehow withdrawn. Gone was the sparkle to her eyes, and she appeared almost plain when she covered her golden hair with the stiff white cap and put on her spectacles.

In spite of the warmth of the day, Lavender felt chilled to the bone. "Have Forbes rub the horses down, since they were out in the rain for a long time."

"I will tell him," Sarah said, hooking Lavender's gown up the back. "Was your mission successful?"

Lavender placed the documents in the older woman's hand. "Yes. You must see that this gets to Brainard Thruston as soon as possible."

Sarah clung to the document as if it were something very precious. "Is this really the Declaration of Independence?"

"Yes, one of the original copies." She pushed her feet into her shoes and buckled them. "I would also like you to tell Brainard that I want him to check on someone for me. The man's name is Julian West, and he claims to be from Georgia, but somehow I don't believe he is." Sarah nodded. "I will pass on your message." As Lavender twisted her wet hair into a knot and secured it to the back of her head, she told Sarah about the afternoon adventure. Then, handing her sodden clothing to Sarah, she moved to the front of the stable. "I must hurry home because the stage should be arriving within an hour. I want to be at the house to receive Mr. West when he arrives."

Lavender carried her aunt's tray up the stairs and quietly opened the bedroom door to find Amelia Daymond sitting up in bed, working on her mending. Amelia was not a handsome woman. She was big-boned, with heavy brows and deep-set eyes. Very few times had Lavender seen her aunt's face softened by a smile, and never had she heard her aunt laugh aloud.

"Don't dawdle, child," Amelia said in an irritated voice. "Come on and show me what you have on that tray."

"I brought you something to drink, Aunt Amelia. I know how much you miss your afternoon tea, so I had Mrs. Spencer blend several herbs and spices for a most pleasing drink."

Amelia watched her niece place the tray across her lap. "1 am not a fool, Lavender, there can be no substitute for tea."

"If you could just taste it," Lavender urged, breathing in the pleasant clove-flavored aroma, "you might be pleasantly surprised."

"Have you tasted it?"

"Indeed I have."

"And?"

"I found it very pleasing, but you must try it for yourself and draw your own conclusions," Lavender said encouragingly.