Whispers from the Shadows (36 page)

“No.” The word came out as little more than a breath. And if he
could have such an effect on her just by kissing her hand…tamping down another smile, she pulled her fingers from his and took a step away. “Hadn't you better be on your way, Mr. Culper? I daresay your congressman is eager for your report.”

“Not home but seven hours, and already she is giving me the boot.” His lips turned up, and he turned toward the door. “Have that picnic ready this evening, sweet. I have already obtained your guardians' permission to take you out for a carriage ride after I return from Washington.”

“I will be waiting, sir.” With a tripping heart and a ready smile.

He winked as he ducked his way out, greeting his mother in the hallway. Winter entered the drawing room a second later, holding an envelope out toward Gwyneth. “This just came for you, dear.”

Gwyneth's smile pulled down into a frown. A letter for her? Here? She took the folded white paper, not recognizing the handwriting. After breaking the seal and opening it, she looked first to the signature.

“Mr. Wesley.” Her gaze flew back to the top of the brief letter, and her heart both eased and went tight somehow. “They made it safely to his cousin and are searching for a ship home.”

No mention of forgiveness, of prayers, of anything warm. Just quick, cool words. An update to an acquaintance. She lowered the page and dragged a long breath into her lungs. They would go home, and they would tell Uncle Gates where she was.

And what if, she now wondered as her gaze drifted to the desk, Sir Arthur was searching for her too? What if that old life that seemed so far away found her? When all she wanted to do was stay lost.

Twenty-Seven

T
he rhythmic clopping of the two trotting horses filled the silence that fell after Thad finished telling Arnaud all he had learned in Bermuda. When he had arrived at his friend's house, Jack had greeted him with his usual enthusiasm, eliminating the need for any awkwardness. And as they set out for Washington, it had been so easy to fall into talk of safe things. Like war.

Now, though, they had exhausted the topic, which brought back all the things still echoing in his mind from that argument before he left. He cast a glance at Arnaud, trying to twist his tongue around something pleasant. Or profound. Or even just lacking in stupidity.

His friend cast him an amused glance, half a smile on his face. “I imagine you noted the change in your lady love in about ten seconds,
oui
?”

Not sure if Gwyneth was a safe topic or not, Thad nodded. “Though we have not yet spoken of the reason behind the shift.”

A chuckle rumbled forth, blending with the clop of hooves. “From what I could gather when we dropped by last week, it came of her arriving at the startling realization that her savior was not here—” he jerked a thumb toward Thad—“but there.” He turned his thumb upward.

The words were the same old bitterness that had been lurking these last two years, but the tone—the tone was light, free of resentment. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking. Thad eased back in his saddle. “That would explain it. I cannot say how glad I was to see such confidence in her eyes, such light. And you will be happy to know that she demanded a proper courtship.” He hoped.

Arnaud's smile doubled into a real, full one. “Good. That is all I wanted to see, Thad. A bit of care and caution to temper the emotion.”

He sounded sincere. Because at the root of it, theirs was a friendship more like a brotherhood, one chosen and not given by chance. Thad drew in a long breath. “I told her I loved her.”

“Oh?” Arnaud quirked a brow and gripped the reins tighter when his horse sidestepped a rut in the road. “What did
she
say?”

Thad felt the beginnings of a smile in the corners of his mouth as he remembered the surety in her eyes, that surety that said she would not cling to whatever she could find, not anymore. She would demand instead what she deserved. “She asked why, then, I had not
explained our situation to her sooner.”

Though he could have, Arnaud did not ask what his response had been or chime in with anything snide. He simply nodded and looked ahead, where the first buildings of Washington City were in view.

“Alain, I…forgive me. Please. You are right. It always felt like a betrayal to me, but I could not admit to any other options. I don't know, now, if my reasons at the time were right or not, but I know that I would undo anything that hurt you if I could. You are my brother.”

“As you are mine.” Arnaud looked his way again, those brooding Bourbon looks deep with contemplation. “I am sorry as well for never realizing how hard it would have been with my ghost between you. But we cannot undo any part of our past, Thad. And we needn't. We need only to forge ahead with wisdom and humility.”

Thad's chest tightened as he considered anew all the Lord had given them…and then perceived anew the cloud of war on the horizon. “How right you are. And how ill we can afford any chasms between us now, with the future so uncertain.”

“'Tisn't uncertain. The British are coming, and they will do anything they can to break us. We knew all along that would mean more than raids on the farms nearest the waterways.”

“If only those in Washington had listened to us before now.”

Arnaud shared his opinion of the politicians and then speared Thad with an uncompromising regard. “I know I needn't ask, but I will anyway. If anything happens to me in these battles knocking upon our door, you must take Jacques in again and raise him as your own.”

Idiot man. “You were right. You needn't ask.”

The glare turned to a grin. “And if anything happens to you, shall I marry Gwyneth in your stead?”

What could he do in answer but sweep off his hat and reach over to smack him with it? They laughed together, but it soon faded away, and Thad sighed. “You must see she is safe from her uncle. He will find her. Sooner or later, he will find her, and when he realizes she saw what she did… If I am killed in the war, you must promise to protect her.”

Arnaud nodded, solemn and somehow looking all the more noble with that fatalistic shadow in his eyes. “And if we both die, then your parents will have their hands quite full,
n'est-ce pas
?”

“May God forbid it.”

“I pray He shall.”

They said no more, given that they were near enough Washington now that they were no longer alone on the road. In silence they made their way to Tallmadge's office. In silence they waited for his secretary to show them in.

Arnaud stood before a framed painting of Tallmadge's home, staring at it for a solid two minutes before opening his mouth. “Do you ever miss Connecticut, Thad?”

He looked at the painting and called to mind the house he had grown up in. “Parts of it, and the idyllic childhood we passed there in New Haven. But I am content to call Baltimore my home.”

“And so I trust you will be ready to defend her.”

Thad stood at the familiar voice that came from Tallmadge's office door. Senator Samuel Smith was one of the few politicians Tallmadge trusted enough to work with on matters of intelligence—and he was also the general who had been given charge of Baltimore's defenses. “General, how good to see you.”

Tallmadge appeared behind Smith's shoulder and waved Thad and Arnaud in. “I didn't dare hope you would be home already. Sam and I were discussing how to implement some of our ideas.”

The general stepped aside to let them enter. “We will need to call upon your resources, to be sure. Arnaud, good to see you again.”

Thad sat down in his usual chair as his friend responded in kind. Tallmadge perched on the edge of his desk. “Your trip was a success?”

He filled them in on the numbers he had observed, the fact that with their addition, the British's Chesapeake fleet would swell to fifty ships. And finally Cochrane and Ross's inclination to allow Cockburn his way in regard to attacking Washington.

Smith nodded throughout. “Not as many as we feared, honestly. And no surprise as to their target.”

Thad leaned forward. “Can Washington be readied, do you think?”

Tallmadge snorted. “With Secretary Jones stymieing our efforts at every turn and General Winder being always undermined by him? I have my doubts, though we will pray Winder overcomes political resistance. But if by chance the British succeed, if Washington falls, we must have our next step planned out.”

Thad nodded even as his pulse kicked up. The plan they had already discussed as a possibility. “Lure them to Baltimore.”

“Which will be ready for them.” Smith folded his arms as he made the pronouncement, his steel-gray hair and firm jaw daring anyone to argue. “The mayor backs my plan entirely, and I am ready to enact it at a moment's notice. We will rally every man, slave and free, and put him to work. We will fortify, we will dig trenches, we will drill. Every day, round the clock, the masters beside their servants.”

“And we will not let them know we are doing it.” Tallmadge picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Thad. “These are the messages you are to plant, Mr. Culper.”

He read them quickly, though they but provided details to what they had already decided. An article for the paper to falsely report that Baltimore was dreadfully unprepared. And other, slier messages to send by word of mouth reporting the Potomac force as weak and in trouble.

“I have a few messengers in mind, and I am well acquainted with the editor at the
Patriot.
But sirs, they have their intelligencers too. The generals and admirals were talking of them in Bermuda. We must tread carefully.” With the thought that every step they took could make it to the ears of Cockburn, Cochrane, Ross.

And then over the sea to Gates.

“I know. Trust me, I know.” Tallmadge stood and paced to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “But our best defense against their scouts is what you already do for us—know everyone, watch everyone. And somehow convince the populace that
they
are our last, best line of defense.”

Thad agreed, and he and Arnaud took their leave a few minutes later. But once they were outside the city again, surrounded by naught but chirping birds and open land, his friend looked over at him and asked the question weighing on Thad's mind too.

“How, exactly, are we to convince the populace of this?”

The question that had been plaguing them since this blasted war broke out. How to move a languid people? How to unify a nation divided on so many issues? How to overcome a generation's worth of lassitude when two years of war had not accomplished it already?

Only one way came to mind. “Remember Hampton.”

Arnaud sighed. “But we cannot
wish
, cannot
plan
for another such
violent, cruel attack. We cannot
hope
that Washington will be the next Hampton.”

“No. But we can be ready with the battle cry if our first defenses fail.” He urged Electra to go a little faster, eager to be home. To let all these matters simmer in the back of his mind and focus the fore of it on his evening with Gwyneth. “That is our best hope, Alain. That though their goal may be to crush our spirits, they have never understood them well enough to do so. The harder they hit us, the more we awake to fight. The stronger they press, the more we lash back.”

Arnaud grinned. “
Vive l'esprit américain
.”

Long live the American spirit indeed. And may the British never comprehend it.

They rode in companionable silence for a while and then spoke of lighter things. Of Jack's exploits during Thad's absence, of Emmy's return from Henry's sister's. Of the latest letter from Amelia, in which she shared that her husband had joined up with Hagerstown's First Maryland Cavalry regiment, which they expected to be called to Washington's defense.

There it was again, that shadow of the war.

By the time they parted ways at the corner of Thad's street, his mind screamed for respite. Something to still the swirl of British army red and naval blue behind his eyes, the images of ships and flocks of soldiers.

He led Electra round to the carriage house and stabled, brushed, and fed her. Then he headed inside, half expecting to find Gwyneth in the garden finishing her painting despite the afternoon slant to the sun.

Mother was instead the first one he saw, and from the look in her eyes, she had been waiting for him. She greeted him with a finger on her lips and a motion for him to follow. Too curious to disobey even had he been so inclined, he tiptoed behind her up the stairs and into his parents' chamber.

“What is it?” he asked in a whisper when she shut the door behind them.

She smiled and turned to her vanity. “I want to give you something. For Gwyneth, when the time is right.”

Thad swallowed as she lifted the lid to her box of jewelry. She never wore much—the occasional necklace, and the ring Father had
given her to mark their engagement. What could she possibly be willing to part with?

His brows furrowed when she pulled out a necklace she had always reserved for the most special of occasions. A delicate strand of gold with three pearls upon it. Mother withdrew it with an almost reverent care, placing the pearls in her palm. “Do you remember the story of this necklace?”

Apparently he should, but he had not even seen it in years, and why would a boy pay any heed to tales of such girlish things? He shook his head. “Only that it was your mother's.”

“The necklace itself, yes. The pearls came from a strand my grandparents had given me. I was wearing it the night Grandfather had me beaten and tossed to the streets. The night that could have been my end, had God not led me to Viney.”

Viney he remembered—the pure-hearted prostitute who had saved Mother's life, and who had later harbored Father when he was out spying on Benedict Arnold. “I recall that part of the tale.”