“No,” Mrs. Pembroke said stoically. “It makes it war.”
Anna hated the answer because she couldn’t dismiss it.
She crossed to the window and looked out. Somewhere beyond the house, Josiah Bell was free or nearly so. In the parlor, the man she’d tried so hard to dislike and who’d risked himself to protect her, stood among men who now suspected him. That was inconvenient. It was also dangerous. Because the relief flooding through her felt far too much like something tender.
Mrs. Pembroke joined her at the window. “You must decide what you believe now.”
Anna gave a small laugh with no humor in it. “About Mr. Reed?”
“About yourself, dear.”
Anna looked at her.
Mrs. Pembroke’s voice softened. “You are angry because he took the choice from you. Hurt because, for a moment, you trusted him and thought yourself wrong to have done it. Both are reasonable. But do not let pride make you foolish. There will be more danger before this is done, and we may need him.”
Anna looked to see if the stars were out yet. “He is still dangerous.”
Mrs. Pembroke patted her arm. “Yes. But perhaps not in the way you feared.”
Anna closed her eyes. She feared him more now. Not because she believed he would betray the cause. But because she was beginning to believe he might matter to her more than caution allowed.
Twelve
The next evening, the usual men left the parlor and moved toward the hall in a rush of boots, orders, and clipped tempers. Captain Whitby gave Mrs. Pembroke a strained bow before leaving. “Madam.”
“Captain,” she replied. “Are you leaving and returning my house to me in good order?”
He didn’t answer. Rothburne followed him out. Major Ellis paused long enough to look at Anna standing behind Mrs. Pembroke, then Nathaniel as he sauntered out of the parlor.
Mrs. Pembroke smiled at Major Ellis. It was not a friendly expression and gave him a little wave.
Ellis left without comment, and for several moments, the parlor was quiet.
Nathaniel exhaled and Anna wondered why he hadn’t gone with the others.
Mrs. Pembroke crossed to the tea tray on a table just inside the parlor, picked up a cup, and handed it to him. “Drink that before you faint.” She ushered them into the room.
“I’m not going to faint,” he said, following her.
“Men often say that right before becoming a nuisance on the carpet.”
Nathaniel accepted the cup. “Then I shall drink it to spare the carpet.”
Anna looked at him. Truly looked. He was tired. Not in the way a man appears after a poor night’s sleep, but when one holds too many lies with nothing but his hands and nerve. His coat was marked with mud near the hem. A thin scratch crossed the back of one hand and another across his chin. He harbored a shadow in his eyes he no doubt didn’t allow the British to see.
Nathaniel met her gaze. “Miss Turner.”
“Mr. Reed.” The words were ordinary. Painfully so.
Mrs. Pembroke looked between them and set down her cup. “I must fetch something.”
Anna didn’t trust that at all. “From where?”
“My room, dear. I have not yet reached the age where I must seek permission to move about my own house.” She started for the door, then paused. “Do not quarrel too loudly. Mercy has the hearing of a fox near a henhouse.” She left and closed the door.
Anna stared after her. “She did that on purpose.”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said.
