“Captain Whitby’s errand,” Nathaniel said, “which is why I am on the lane.”
The younger soldier narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “And why was the girl so near you?”
“Because she came out and nearly walked into me,” Nathaniel said, annoyed.
The broad-shouldered man chuckled. “Go back to the house, miss. The other maid’s cough will have to wait.”
Anna stood her ground a second longer.
He saw the fight in her, but also saw the moment fear, anger, and betrayal mixed together so tightly she could no longer trust what she knew. She turned and walked away, shoulders straight, her shawl pulled tight and didn’t look back.
Nathaniel watched long enough to be certain she’d reached the kitchen path.
The young soldier handed back Whitby’s paper. “Major Ellis said no one was to carry messages along this road.”
“Then it is fortunate I am carrying orders, not messages,” Nathaniel said.
The broad soldier gave him a doubtful look. “Same thing, is it not?”
“Not to officers. They enjoy distinctions.” Nathaniel tucked the harmless paper back into his coat.
“We are just following orders,” the young soldier bristled.
“So am I.” Nathaniel mounted his horse in one smooth motion. “If Major Ellis asks why I was delayed, shall I give him your names?”
Both men exchanged a glance. The broad-shouldered one drew his horse back. “No need.”
“I thought not.” Nathaniel turned his horse down the lane, away from Pembroke House and away from Anna. Only when the soldiers were behind him did he allow himself to breathe.
His hand opened. The folded slip lay damp against his palm. He tucked it inside the lining of his glove and urged his horse forward. He rode east for nearly a quarter mile. Then, at the hollow where the old cart track veered through a stand of pine, he turned off the main road and pushed his horse hard through the trees. Branches slapped his coat. Mud pulled at the horse’shooves, and somewhere behind him, a crow lifted off from a branch with a furious call.
He had little time. If Ellis moved Bell after dark, then Caleb needed to be warned before the sunset died entirely. The east road watched, the rescue would have to happen before the transfer or not at all. He drew in a breath, let it out. And if Anna believed he’d handed her message to the British…
He shut that thought away. It didn’t matter what she believed about him. It only mattered that she was alive to believe it.
The cart track opened near the old cooper’s yard. Nathaniel dismounted before his horse fully stopped and led the animal behind the smokehouse. The place smelled of damp wood, old ash, and neglect. He crouched by the rear wall and found the loose stone exactly where Caleb once marked it.
The hollow beneath it was empty. No one had come yet.
Nathaniel pulled the slip of paper from his glove, then hesitated. The message named him as watched. If he left it and the wrong person found it, his cover wouldn’t merely crack. It would shatter. Worse, Anna’s part might be guessed. Mrs. Pembroke’s too.
Nathaniel tore a small, clean edge from Whitby’s paper and wrote with the stub of a pencil he kept in his pocket. Now the message was written in his hand and not the hand of either Mrs. Pembroke or Anna’s. He wasn’t sure who’d written the original, but he’d destroy it as soon as he could without leaving ash or scraps behind.
He’d just shoved the message beneath the stone when a sound came from the trees. Nathaniel froze. For a moment, there was only the wind.
Then a voice. “You’re late.” Caleb stepped from behind the smokehouse, his face grim, a pistol in his hand.
Nathaniel exhaled. “I am beginning to tire of people saying that.”
Caleb lowered the pistol. “You were followed.”
“I know. Two soldiers.”
Caleb nodded. “And the girl?”
Nathaniel didn’t answer right away.
Caleb swore under his breath. “Nate.”
