Mrs. Pembroke stiffened. “Captain Whitby, a few additions to an invasion is how one loses the war.”
Lieutenant Rothborne made a sound suspiciously like a snicker under his breath.
Mrs. Pembroke’s head turned slowly his way. “Did you cough, Lieutenant?”
He gave a vigorous shake of his head. “No, madam.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Wise of you.”
Anna bit the inside of her cheek and counted the plates again, because numbers were less dangerous than laughter.
Captain Whitby cleared his throat and handed a paper to Mrs. Pembroke. “Mr. Sloane will attend, as will Major Ellis, if his duties allow. Also Mr. Partridge and his wife, the Wilkinses, Lieutenant Rothborne, of course, and several officers from the harbor post. I expect no more than thirty. Well, perhaps thirty-five.”
Mrs. Fenwick made a strangled noise near the doorway. The sound caught Mrs. Pembroke’s attention, but not for long. She glared at the captain for half a second. “A supper for thirty-five.”
“A ball, madam,” Captain Whitby corrected. “A modest one.”
Mrs. Pembroke swallowed hard, closed her eyes, then opened them and stared him down. “Sir, a modest ball is like amodest flood. It may be smaller than expected, but the carpets are ruined all the same.”
Captain Whitby clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. “I knew you would understand.”
Mrs. Pembroke gave him a smile of her own. “Oh, I understand perfectly.”
Anna didn’t dare look at Mrs. Fenwick. Mercy, unfortunately, did. Her shoulders began to shake.
Nathaniel stepped forward and placed two folded papers on the table beside Mrs. Pembroke. “Captain, these are the musicians’ names and the order for additional wine.”
“Ah yes.” Whitby glanced at the papers, then at Mrs. Pembroke. “Reed has arranged the musicians. Was that not a fine thing to do?”
“How industrious of him,” Mrs. Pembroke said, her jaw going tighter by the minute.
Nathaniel inclined his head. “I do try to be useful, ma’am.”
Anna held the plate tighter.Useful.There was that word again. He wore it the way other men wore coats, neat and ordinary and meant to hide everything underneath.
Mrs. Pembroke studied him over the rim of her spectacles. “Usefulness is a dangerous quality in a man, Mr. Reed. It encourages other men to give him tasks, such as hiring musicians.”
Nathaniel glanced at the captain as if he expected him to help. Captain Whitby, of course, ignored him. Nathaniel returned his attention to Mrs. Pembroke and smiled. “I have found that to be true.”
“Yes. And yet you persist,” she groused.
“Perhaps I am tragically flawed.” He looked at the floor. Mercy made a small sound that might have been a laugh and turned it into a cough. Mrs. Fenwick stepped on her foot to silence her.
Anna, playing it safe, kept counting plates. Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two. No, that couldn’t be right. There were only forty. She started over.
Lieutenant Rothborne moved toward the window and looked out at the garden. “The patrols should be doubled tomorrow evening, do you not think, Captain?”
Anna’s hands stilled on the next plate.
Captain Whitby frowned. “That will not be necessary.”
“Major Ellis thinks otherwise,” the lieutenant said, facing him. “There have been too many delays on the roads. Questions from farmers who have suddenly developed a taste for patriot philosophy.”
Captain Whitby rolled his eyes. “Farmers develop a taste for whatever keeps their taxes low and their barns standing.”
“Even so,” the lieutenant said, “activity has increased. Riders have been seen near the north road, and two couriers were questioned west of town. There was even a supply wagon that turned back.”
Anna noticed that Nathaniel said nothing. She heard the silence around him more clearly than she heard the words.
