Love’s Betrayal (24 page)

“Calm yourself. You can deal with Charity's fickle behavior later,” Patience said, overcoming her innate shyness. “You should not be surprised by Charity since she vexes us all.”

Good girl. If we stall for time and deter the soldiers' attention, Henry may be able to overtake them.

“Leave Charity alone,” Faith said. “If you were fool enough to believe Henry preferred you to her, then so be it. You are simply jealous.”

If not for the danger besetting them, Delight would have burst into laughter at the preposterous conversation. She took a quick breath and glanced at Mama. In the firelight, she had paled. Poor Mama, but the sisters were on a mission and Delight could explain later. “Envious. I dare say not. She has no conscience or loyalties.”

Charity laughed. Elijah woke with a howl.

“See what your quarreling has done.” Mama shifted the baby to her shoulder and patted his back.

“Henry simply wanted a diversion during his days of recovering.” Charity smirked. Even in the shadows, her facial expressions conveyed the manner of a haughty young woman. “You amused and bored him, but I held his attention. Now he is gone and made quite the twit of you.”

Patience raised her fist. “Have you no decency? He broke Delight's heart. And what of James? Did you not steal his affections, too?”

Mercy and Hope began to sob as Elijah broke into an ear-piercing scream.

Patience, you are a jewel. And Charity, I forgive all of your teasing from these past weeks.
“Have you cast your charms upon these men as well?” Delight detected a movement in the shadows from where she'd entered the house. She must act hastily.

“Delight, you will stop at nothing.” Charity shook her fist. “I feel sorry for you, yet intelligence never was your strength.”

Delight shook off Faith's and Patience's holds, scurried to her feet, and raced across the room toward her sister. She masked her fear with an incensed look, as though led by blind rage. Holding the captors' attention became foremost in her mind. The pasty-faced soldier seized her arm, and she pretended to stumble, knocking the musket from his hands and sending it crashing to the floor.

“That's about enough, chaps,” Henry called from the doorway.

The other men reached for their weapons, but a second voice emerged from the shadows. “I would not be too hasty to put your hands on those guns,” Uncle Matthew said.

The one soldier still held on to Delight, but she used her foot to maneuver the musket in Charity's direction. Her sister snatched it up. “Let go of my sister, or I will spill your blood over that fancy red jacket.”

Charity, from whence did such gumption arise?

The soldier's hand rose to Delight's throat. An icy sensation awakened fresh fear in her. “The hole will have to go through her first.”

Panic creased Charity's face. Their game was over. Before Delight could struggle against her captor, Henry strode across the room and laid a fist into the soldier's jaw, forcing him to release her. Another punch left the man sprawling on the floor.

“Did he hurt ye?” Henry said to Delight, holding down the belligerent soldier.

Delight shook her head and demanded her trembling body to cease quaking.

Henry bent to tie the soldier's hands behind his back. “I should not have sent you inside without me.”

“We did not have any idea what had happened,” she said through a ragged breath. “I trusted God, and He did not fail us.”

She saw the soft glow of love emitting from his eyes before he reverted his attention to the soldier and the men Uncle Matthew held at gunpoint. Suddenly it occurred to her that her uncle had jeopardized his life and his home by helping Henry.

“Uncle Matthew, what will you do after this?” Delight said.

“I'm enlisting with Henry,” he grinned, looking so much like Papa. “Rather than hide from the redcoats, I plan to defend my country.”

“You will meet your death,” the branded thief said.

“Rather a noble grave than live under the tyranny of the king,” Uncle Matthew said. “You think about those things while you are in chains.”

Charity quickly untied the knots binding James's mouth, then whirled and fell into Delight's arms. “I was so frightened for you.”

“You were magnificent.” Delight twirled her sister around the kitchen. “And so are our sisters. More so, our diversion worked.”

In that instant, Elijah quieted while Mercy and Hope clung to their mother's skirts.

Charity smiled weakly before turning back to James.

“Remind me to never make the Butler women angry,” he said. “I would not survive. What I just witnessed would shake any man's resolve.” He clasped Charity's hand in his. “And you are full of surprises.”

“I believe she had a good teacher,” Henry said, urging the soldier to his feet. “In truth, my Delight is the epitome of a woman in love with her God, her country—”

“And her soon-to-be husband,” Delight said.

D
elight shivered as she wriggled into her Sunday dress of indigo and white lace. Although the room had a distinct chill, she knew her shaking was due to anticipation of the wedding ceremony about to proceed. Nervous and excited best described her—and filled with a mountain of love for Henry.

Had it been only yesterday morning when she had fretted about her disobedience to God and her feelings for Henry? So much had occurred since then, and she had had so little time with him before he left with Uncle Matthew and James with the captured men. She prayed for an uneventful journey. Life certainly looked less perilous when she trusted God completely. Perhaps this way of thinking was what Papa meant all along. Not trusting God held more danger than anything man could conjure.

She wished he could be here this day to see her wed Henry, but he'd already given his blessing. When Papa received the news, he'd be pleased, and he'd have plenty of other weddings to attend once the war ended.

The war. She refused to let that reality darken her day. She must trust God, not simply today, but on every day of her life.

“Delight, are you ready?” Charity said from the doorway. “Mama started to come, but then Elijah demanded to be fed.”

“Almost. Would you straighten my hair? It has a willful mind today.”

Charity picked up a brush and in a few quick strokes had Delight's locks secured into a bouquet of loops and curls.

“Perfect.” Delight turned to give her sister a hug.

“I am so happy for you,” Charity said through a sprinkling of tears.

“Oh, you are not rid of me. I will be around for a while to make your life interesting.”

Her sister giggled. “Henry's life will never be boring.”

“Oh, but I love him so much.”

“And he loves you.”

“Thank you for everything you have done,” Delight whispered. “I will never forget your goodness.”

“We shall see. I imagine I can think of several things to tease you about once Henry leaves in the morning.”

A few moments later, Delight stood by Henry's side, his hand firmly clasped around hers. Devotion flowed from his fingertips to her heart and back again. She felt his gaze upon her, and she smiled into those blue pools of tenderness. Never had she been so certain of the life before her. The uncertainties of the days ahead lessened in her understanding of God's provision, the dreams of this wondrous country, and her love for Henry, her beloved turncoat.

DiAnn Mills is a bestselling author who believes her readers should expect an adventure. She combines unforgettable characters with unpredictable plots to create action-packed, suspense-filled novels.

Her titles have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists; won two Christy Awards; and been finalists for the RITA, Daphne Du Maurier, Inspirational Readers' Choice, and Carol award contests. Library Journal presented her with a Best Books 2014: Genre Fiction award in the Christian Fiction category for Firewall.

DiAnn is a founding board member of the American Christian Fiction Writers; the 2015 president of the Romance Writers of America's Faith, Hope & Love chapter; and a member of Advanced Writers and Speakers Association and International Thriller Writers. She speaks to various groups and teaches writing workshops around the country. She and her husband live in sunny Houston, Texas.

DiAnn is very active online and would love to connect with readers on any of the social media platforms listed at
www.diannmills.com
.

Faithful Traitor

by Jill Stengl

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold.

P
ROVERBS
22:1

October 1774

H
ow does it look, Mummy?” Georgette Talbot turned before her mirror and touched the strand of matched pearls adorning her throat. The snowy skirt drifted about her slippers. “I hardly recognize myself. Are you certain the bodice is not too daring? I should hate to be the subject of gossip tomorrow. You know how Marianne's mother is.”

“Victoria Grenville can only dream of having a daughter as fair as either of my two treasures. Should anyone criticize your attire, ‘twould be a matter of sour grapes. You have superb shoulders and flawless skin—we must emphasize them.”

“Since my face is plain,” Georgette completed the thought. “If only I were beautiful like you.” She covered her mouth with one hand, holding up her elbow with the other.

“Bosh.” Her mother studied her with a critical eye. “Stop covering your lips; it appears ill-bred. You are far from plain, as I have told you countless times. A discerning man will admire your excellent teeth, shapely figure, and golden hair.”

“If that is true, my world is bereft of discerning men. They take one look at my colossal mouth and back away.”

“It is not the
size
of your mouth that frightens men away, Georgette.” Her mother's blue eyes held a warning. “Perhaps a touch more powder, Agnes. Her cheeks are too red. Is that as tight as you can make her stays?”

“Yes, madam,” the maid said.

“Any tighter and I should swoon during the first dance.” Georgette felt like a feather pillow with a cord tied about its middle. Her inward parts must be entirely disarranged.

But at least her waist was tiny.

Georgette's mother huffed. “You must trust your mother with these things, Georgette. Remember how successful your sister was in her debut—she had Mr. Honeywell enthralled almost from the moment she entered the ballroom, and now look at her, happily wedded to a rising barrister.”

“But I am twenty now and no debutante, Mummy. There are no Mr. Honeywells here in New York. If ever I am to have opportunity to wed, we must return to England soon.” She gazed through her dormer window at the tall merchant ships anchored in the river. “Please, can we not sail on one of those ships? I should die if we were to spend another summer in this hot, stinking village that calls itself a city!”

Her mother directed the maid to rearrange her skirts, then stood back to judge the effect. “You will marry whomever your parents approve for you, Georgette. You must allow that Juliette is happy, and she scarcely knew Mr. Honeywell on their wedding day. I had not intended to tell you this yet, but your papa has already selected a suitor—a discerning man—who can support you in a manner even superior to the one you now enjoy.” She adjusted her own golden cloud of hair while looking into Georgette's mirror.

“Surely you do not mean that Mr. LaTournay he constantly talks about.” Georgette lifted one brow.

“I do. The man is charming, influential in city politics, and wealthy enough to make him the target of every matchmaking mother in town.”

“Ha! As if such a man would form an attachment to me.”

“Indeed, Mr. LaTournay craves an introduction, and your father is of the opinion that the man has admired you for some time.”