“So I was told,” Nathaniel replied.
Whitby crossed to the sideboard and took up a sealed packet. “This goes to Mr. Sloane. You’ll wait for his reply.”
Nathaniel accepted it. “Yes, Captain.”
“And this one to Major Ellis. Don’t entrust it to anyone else.” He handed him a letter of some sort.
“Of course, sir.” He took that, too.
Anna placed another napkin and lowered her gaze. Major Ellis and Mr. Sloane. Those were two names worth remembering. She hadn’t heard them before.
Lieutenant Rothborne moved toward the table and frowned at the place settings. “Is the girl meant to remain?”
Anna’s breath caught.
Captain Whitby glanced her way as if he just realized she was in the room. “She’s setting the table, man, unless you plan to dine off your own knee, let her finish.”
Rothborne gave a humorless little sniff. “Servants hear too much, in my experience.”
“They hear plates, boots, and complaints,” Whitby snapped. “Nothing more.”
Anna kept her face blank and reached for the next napkin. Nathaniel’s gaze flicked her way. The motion was so small she might have imagined it, yet sensed the weight of it all the same.
He was watching her.
The pale-haired officer opened a small portfolio and removed a folded sheet. “If Reed is going to Sloane’s, he may as well carry the harbor note as well.”
Whitby’s expression hardened. “Not that one.”
“Why not?” Rothborne asked.
“Because Isaidnot that one,” Captain Whitby replied.
Silence followed. The lieutenant exchanged a look with the pale-haired officer and shrugged.
Anna’s heart beat faster. Harbor note? She moved to the far end of the table. The trouble was, there were no more napkins to place. She straightened one, then another, pretending to be dissatisfied with her own work.
Rothborne took the portfolio from the pale-haired officer and slid the folded sheet back inside. “Then where is it to go?”
Captain Whitby’s voice lowered. “With someone who understands discretion.”
Anna noticed Nathaniel said nothing and dared a look at him.
“Reed is discreet,” Lieutenant Rothborne stated.
“So he is,” Whitby replied, “but even discretion has limits when a man is stopped on the road.”
Nathaniel’s expression remained calm. “Have couriers been stopped of late, Captain?”
Whitby’s eyes narrowed. “You needn’t concern yourself with what doesn’t concern you.”
Nathaniel gave him a curt nod. “Of course.”
There it was again. That mild, obedient tone, the kind that made men underestimate him. Anna recognized it because she used one much like it herself.
“Are you finished, girl?” Lieutenant Rothborne asked, his tone impatient.
Anna curtsied. “Yes, sir.” She turned toward the door.
