“You were meant to.” With a huff, Mrs. Fenwick hurried off.
Anna reached out to steady the tray as Mercy passed, and the girl gave her a grateful glance before disappearing toward the parlor.
The music had already begun. The musicians were tucked near the wall, playing as though the fate of the colonies depended on their fiddles. Perhaps it did. Anna was beginning to believe everything in the house carried some hidden consequence.
The first guests arrived before sunset. Loyalist families, merchants, officers, wives, daughters, and men in polished shoes. They entered with smiles, compliments, and gossip. They praised Mrs. Pembroke’s hospitality, Captain Whitby’s charm, and the king’s officers in such generous terms that Anna wondered how their tongues didn’t blister from the effort.
Mrs. Pembroke, of course, received every compliment with perfect grace. Anna knew because she’d seen her grip a folded handkerchief so tightly it was a wonder the linen survived.
“More wine in the parlor,” Mrs. Fenwick ordered, “and mind you take the side hall. The front hall is full of people.”
Anna picked up a tray. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And Anna,” Mrs. Fenwick called.
Anna paused.
Mrs. Fenwick’s sharp eyes softened by the smallest degree. “Keep your head down.”
Anna’s stomach tightened. “I always do.”
“Tonight, do it better, child.”
Well, that wasn’t ominous at all.She pushed the thought aside and carried the wine through the side hall, past the morning room, and into the parlor.
The room was warm from candlelight and bodies and crowded with voices. Ladies in silk and muslin stood in small clusters, their fans fluttering like nervous birds. Officers in red coats filled the spaces between them, all brass buttons, polished boots, and confidence.
Captain Whitby stood near the fireplace, laughing with Mr. Sloane. Lieutenant Rothborne stood near the windows, speaking with Major Ellis, a tall, severe man with iron-gray hair and eyes that never appeared to rest on one object for long.
Anna didn’t need an introduction to know it was the major. Danger had a way of announcing itself before names did.
She spotted Nathaniel nearby. He seemed to be listening to conversations without looking like he was listening. She tightened her hold on the tray. His coat was the same dark, serviceable one he often wore, and his hair was tied back neatly. He wore no uniform, no fine waistcoat meant to draw attention, nothing that should have made him stand out among officers and gentlemen.
Yet Anna saw him immediately. Maybe it was because she was trying not to.
He glanced her way, and her heart stumbled in the most irritating manner.
She lowered her eyes and moved to the nearest group of guests. A woman in blue asked whether the punch had beensweetened with imported sugar or some sad colonial substitute. Anna managed not to pour wine on her slippers, which she counted as an act of Christian restraint.
She moved along the edge of the room, filling glasses and emptying her mind of everything except the work.
As she neared the fireplace, Mr. Sloane’s voice drifted through the noise. “The roads are troublesome only if one insists on using the obvious ones.”
Major Ellis answered in a low tone. “Troublesome roads become dangerous roads when men grow bold enough to stop wagons.”
Captain Whitby gave a dismissive laugh. “You see plots in every shadow, Ellis.”
“I see them, Captain, because they arethere.”
Anna turned to offer wine to an elderly woman seated near the hearth. The woman took none, but the movement allowed Anna to remain where she was without appearing to linger.
Lieutenant Rothborne’s voice joined the others. “Two patrols on the east lane, one at the north road, and men at the grounds until midnight. No one will come near the house unseen.”
Mr. Sloane made a soft, scoffing sound. “And after midnight?”
“After midnight, the house no longer matters,” Major Ellis said. “The shore does.”
Anna kept her face still, the locket growing heavier by the minute.
