Ring of Secrets (25 page)

Bennet's brother didn't seem to find that idea plausible. Funny how his eyes, which she knew well were the same shade of blue as Bennet's, conveyed none of the same warmth. “You would have had to wander for hours. And I find it hard to believe anyone allowed that to happen.”

Again, she shrugged. “'Tis a mystery, to be sure. Now, am I going to have to wander for hours in the direction of home, or are you going to be a gentleman and offer to drive me?”

He stared at her and crossed his arms over his chest. For a moment she feared he might make some lewd comment, but then he shook his head. “Does my brother know you are here?”

Of all the ridiculous… “How could he, when
I
didn't know? Though while we are asking questions, does your brother know
you
are here?”

A light of amusement entered his gaze. “I daresay he wouldn't be surprised, if none too pleased. Though I fail to see why anyone should judge me for it. Even the most sanctimonious of men end up here at some point or another, it seems.”

As if her stomach needed to churn any more. “If you don't intend to help me—”

“Oh, calm yourself. My driver is waiting around the corner.”

He offered his arm, but she shied away from tucking her hand into its crook. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”

“Touchy, are you not?”

She sent him a hard glare. “Oh, I am sorry. I cannot think
why
I would be so.”

“Hmm.” He started toward the corner, his gaze on her with every step. “Blast it, I do think Benny was right all along. You are not as stupid as you make yourself seem.”

“Such flattery warms me to the core.”

He grunted and motioned toward a small carriage parked before an empty lot. “I think I prefer you brainless.”

“Typical of you.” She paused before the familiar conveyance. “You rode in your mother's carriage in pursuit of your unholy entertainment. She must be so proud.”

Major Lane rolled his eyes as his footman opened the carriage door.
“Head injuries do not agree with you, Miss Reeves. They make you terribly cross. Try to avoid them in the future, will you? At least when in my company?”

“I shall endeavor to oblige.” She climbed in with the servant's assistance and settled on the seat. Really, she was grateful Mrs. Lane's vehicle was here—in fine weather like this, the major could as easily have ridden his mount or even walked, which would not have been much help to her at all. The Lord must have whispered in his ear, though she suspected Major Lane may disagree.

“And now you are grinning.” The major took the seat across from her. “You are a bizarre creature.”

He certainly stared at her as if she were, his gaze lingering on her hair. With a huff, she tore the ripped lace from the bottom of her sleeve and used it to secure the locks at the nape of her neck.

He sighed. “To Hampton Hall, then.”

“Nay.” Satisfied her hair was under control as much as possible for now, she lowered her hands again. “With all due gratitude and respect, Lieutenant, I do not intend to roll up to my grandparents' house with
any
man after nightfall. I'm sorry to deprive you of the laud of heroics, but I would prefer it if you would drop me a few streets away.” Namely, a bit closer to Robbie's.

His brows arched upward. “I must object, Miss Reeves. 'Tisn't safe for a young lady such as yourself to be walking the city streets in the dark.”

Not all of Grandmother's lessons were without their place. Now, for instance, she appreciated being able to project regal command with a single glance. “I will either get out at Queen Street or I will walk all the way from here, but I will
not
arrive at Hampton Hall with you.”

For a long moment he stared, as if unable to grasp what she said. Then at last he shook his head, muttered a curse, and leaned his head out the window. “Queen Street, Johnny.” When he sat back again, amusement had crept back into his face. “Does my brother realize what a stubborn female he is pursuing?”

A small smile pulled at her lips. “Oh, I daresay he does, Lieutenant. I daresay he does.”

Fifteen

W
inter waited until the Lane carriage had turned the corner before she made a dash for the side street that would deliver her to Robbie's door. She had never had cause to visit him at home before, but she had made sure she knew where said home was in case a time arose when she needed to get a message to him and Freeman could not assist her.

A time such as now.

“Winnie?”

She nearly shrieked at hearing her name when she was still a good minute from Robbie's, but after slapping a hand over her racing heart, she spun to face her faithful servant. “Freeman! What are you doing here? I was just thinking of how you were not around to help me.”

He emerged from the shadows that had concealed him and folded her into a tight embrace. “I saw him cart you off, but he had me locked in the storeroom of the stable. Took a while to get out, and I thought I would see if Mr. Townsend would help me look for you.” He drew back enough to put a hand to each cheek and tilted her head this way and that, examining and tsking at what he saw. His hands shook. “He did this to you?”

“I…cannot say. He had someone strike me with something, I think,
but I am not certain the main injury is from that. It could have been from when he tossed me from the carriage to the street.”

Even through the depths of night, the rage in his eyes burned hot and clear. “I could—”

“I know.” She patted his forearms and pulled away from him. “But the Lord had me in His hand. I will tell you all about it as we walk home, but first I must speak with Robbie.”

“Come, then. I would like to see you in the light, anyway.”

She offered up a prayer of thanks as they walked, feeling completely safe for the first time all day. Freeman was by her side, the Lord's wing was above them, decisions had been made. When she knocked on the door, 'twas with undeniable peace.

Robbie pulled the door open so quickly she wondered if he had been standing directly before it, though the surprise in his eyes told her he hadn't spotted them as they walked up. “Winnie, Freeman. The Lord must have heard my prayers. I was about to sneak onto the Hampton grounds and rouse you, Free.”

Excitement brimmed in his voice. Winter hadn't seen him so happy in months, which, strangely, nipped at her peace. To be sure, she had prayed for his black mood to end. But leaping straight from it to this…

Though when she stepped inside, his joy dissolved into an interjection she had never heard fall from his lips before. He took her gently by the chin to angle her head toward the light. “What happened to you?”

“Is it that bad?” Shying away before he could probe the wound, she moved past him in favor of the mirror she spotted on the opposite wall. When she tilted her face down to see the place from which the pain radiated, she found an unmistakable gash. Though it surely would not be so obvious had Viney not parted her hair there to clean it.

“What happened?” Robbie demanded again from behind her.

“A bit of an altercation with my grandfather, but that is not why I have come.” She untied the lace at the nape of her neck and reparted her hair to hide the injury—she had to do so very carefully, as it screamed at her with the shift—and set about braiding her waist-length locks. “I learned something from Fairchild today that it is imperative we pass along. I know you have—”

“Is it about the French?” He stepped in front of her, eyes gleaming again. “Austin Roe stopped by to enlist my—our—help again on
behalf of seven-one-one. Specifically as concerning the arrival of the French. I suspect the British forces are aware of them and was hoping you could get some information on specifics.”

She paused, hands still up at her shoulder. “We…he…the Culper Ring is active again?”

“Yes, the general expects we will be most useful once more.” He grinned, though it quickly faded. “I know you have still been taking note of anything of interest. I am preparing a packet for Roe to take tomorrow, so anything you have of import I will include, but especially about the French.”

Winter went back to braiding as she told him what she had learned from Fairchild that afternoon. Then, lace tied at the end of her braid, she asked the question that made her head thump anew. “So this is not a one-time request for information? He expects us to report regularly once more?”

“Indeed. As you wanted us to continue doing all along.”

Yes…until a few hours ago. When she had finally resigned herself to a life free of secrets, when she had finally decided she would be open and honest with Bennet. When she had finally resolved to take a stand before her grandparents.

What was she to do now?

Robbie went still. “This is what you want, is it not? You are still willing to cooperate? If you are unable, I will carry on without you. Use my other contacts.”

Perhaps that would be best. Perhaps this mantle had been lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps she had…

No. Drawing in a long breath, the calling settled over her again as it had the first time he mentioned this business. She must still do what she could to help the Glorious Cause. To ensure that her father came back to her alive.

Nevertheless, things had changed today, things that could never be shifted back. She could and would press on, but a new balance must be found, for a new tightrope stretched before her.

For now, she summoned a smile. “Of course I will help, Robbie. Which means I must go smooth things over with my grandparents.”

And she would have to keep Colonel Fairchild at hand, which may mean rescinding the words she had spoken to Bennet that evening.

She made her face as bright as she could as she moved back to the door. “I had better hurry home.”

To the house that had never been home and the family that despised her. Where she must find a way to make her position clear, yet win a second chance. All so she could put country above heart and risk her neck.

Hardly waiting for his farewell, she followed Freeman back into the night. And wished, prayed, this day would end.

Ben straightened from where he'd been stooped over his desk and looked at his handiwork. He was no cartographer, but a second map had become necessary. This one, rather than containing places of interest in the City of New York, was on a grander scale. At the top was where Washington had made his headquarters in New Windsor. Technically, it was directly up the river from the city, but traversing the distance between was far more complicated, especially if one assumed his scouts, couriers, et cetera, would stay within Patriot-held territory as much as possible.

In all likelihood, their route of communication went through Connecticut to the east. For all he knew, New Haven could be a stopping point. But from Connecticut they would have to cross the sound at some point and then cut through Long Island. The other alternative would take them directly through massive British fortifications—highly unlikely.

But Long Island stretched for more than a hundred miles off the coast, and as loyal as some of the towns were in the western side, most of the east was sympathetic to the rebels. There were towns aplenty that would have citizens willing to help the Patriot cause by taking in spies or conveying messages.

His gaze kept returning to one Long Island town in particular. Setauket. Home to the Caleb Brewster he had heard mentioned in Fairchild's office last spring. To one Austin Roe, who had taken up the
colors. And most notably to Benjamin Tallmadge, who had, so far as he could tell, become a favorite of General Washington's.

A favorite rumored to have been delegated the task of managing Patriot intelligence.

Was it a coincidence that Washington's intelligence man was from the same small village as a sailor wanted by the British for his activities on the sound? Ben had his doubts. If he were going to put together a ring of spies, he would start with those he knew he could trust. His friends.

Hence the list at his side of other Setauket residents. He had stared at it half the evening but couldn't quite determine which, if any, Tallmadge may have recruited. His suspicions kept settling on Abraham Woodhull, a noted schoolfellow of both Brewster and Tallmadge. But Woodhull had been arrested by the Patriots for smuggling. Would he then express his gratitude for release by becoming a spy, an endeavor far riskier than ferrying vegetables to the London Trade? Perhaps. But not necessarily. He could as easily harbor resentment for the arrest.