Caleb cursed under his breath and tucked the paper inside his coat. “That will need to be moved quickly.”
“It already has,” Nathaniel said, clasping his hands behind his back.
Caleb studied him. “You sent word?”
“Not the full detail,” Nathaniel said, “but enough to stir the right men awake.”
A gust of wind moved through the trees and rattled the branches. Caleb glanced toward the road. “You’ve heard about the patrols?”
Nathaniel nodded. “Rothborne said they will be doubled the evening of the ball. The east lane especially. They don’t want anyone lingering near the Pembroke grounds.”
“That’s why I sent for you.” Caleb’s expression turned grave. “British activity is increasing everywhere. Two men were stopped near the north road last night. One got away, but the other didn’t.”
Nathaniel stiffened. “Who?”
Caleb gave him a somber look. “Josiah Bell.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes. Josiah was young. Too young. “Is he still alive?” he asked, hopeful.
“When last seen,” Caleb said. “They took him to the harbor post.”
Nathaniel gazed up at the sky. “Does he know enough to hurt us?”
Caleb put a hand on his shoulder. “Nate, any man knows enough, if frightened enough.”
Nathaniel nodded but said nothing.
“There’s more,” Caleb said. “Ellis has been asking after couriers. Not just Patriot riders. All couriers.”
Nathaniel let go a rough laugh. “My, how flattering.”
“This is no jest, boy.”
Nathaniel gave him a sage nod. “I know.”
“Do you?” Caleb asked. “Because from where I stand, you’re walking through the center of a lantern-lit room where every man in it starts to notice the shadow at your feet.”
Nathaniel’s smile faded. He wasn’t wrong. Whitby trusted him, but Whitby’s trust was like a shallow pond. Stir it once, and every stone beneath could be seen, and Rothborne already disliked anyone he didn’t command.
He thought of Anna. She had eyes sharp enough to cut thread and, thankfully, sense enough to be frightened by what she saw. The thought made him close his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them, Caleb was watching him. “There’s someone in the house, is there not?”
Nathaniel met his gaze. “There are a great many people in the house.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Nathaniel took Whitby’s second sealed note from his coat and checked the wax. “A maid at the Pembroke house hears more than she should.”
Caleb shrugged. “Most servants do.”
“Yes, but this one remembers.”
Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “Is she a patriot?”
“I don’t know.”
“Loyalist?”
