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“Nothing and no one to be seen.” Donaldson appeared, his lungs heaving as if he’d been running. He nodded a quick greeting to Joseph before looking to Nathaniel. “Is all in readiness?”
“Aye,” Nathaniel answered.
“I must go.” Joseph lowered his chin and his volume. “And so must you. Your men will be awaiting your report, as Stockton will be awaiting mine.”
“Donaldson, go ahead.” Nathaniel’s clipped words said something Joseph didn’t care to hear. “I will be right behind you.”
Joseph knew that pointed look. Nathaniel wanted more out of Joseph, but he would have to pry open his jaw to get it.
Donaldson turned without so much as a parting look, his experience no doubt making him tread with far more caution than Nathaniel seemed keen on using.
“What’s happened?” Nathaniel neared. “I have known you long enough to hear the tension in words you haven’t spoken.”
Even in the blackness, Joseph’s vision nearly went red. Did Nathaniel believe that here and now he would—
“Is she untrustworthy? Has she been fooled to work for the other side? Is she—”
“Hannah?” He couldn’t be serious. “Nay. She is valiant as ever.”
“What then?” Nathaniel insisted. “There are concerns you have not voiced, and I must know what—”
“She had a child.” Joseph spoke through his teeth. He growled and turned away. “I just learned of it.”
Nathaniel’s question came slow and hesitant. “A child?”
Thinking of it was enough to drain the blood from Joseph’s head. He couldn’t reply. He needed to flee this moment and escape to the next occupation that would busy him.
Shaking his head, he found the strength to move his legs, and he hauled up to the wagon seat, then halted. Remaining motionless as the realities crawled over his back like demons, he let the sorrowful truths spill from his lips. “She never told me. I wonder if she ever would have if I hadn’t found…” His voice stopped, his mind at the spot
in front of the open drawer, the booties blinking up at him.
“Nathaniel?”
Donaldson’s quiet call brought Nathaniel full around. He glanced to the wood, then to Joseph, sympathy in the drop of his expression. “We shall speak more of this later. Our work begins. God be with you, my friend.”
He darted into the arms of the shadows, both his frame and his footfall being swallowed up in the blackness.
Joseph released a breath heavy with an imbalance of dread and relief. He flicked the reins, and the horse started, pulling Joseph into the vision of Hannah that wavered before him. He’d never seen her so pale. What would he say to her now? What would she say to him?
More, what other secrets did she carry in her heart, and how, if at all, could he tempt her to share them?
The pain he felt, though wrenching as any he’d known, ’twas nothing beside the knowledge that she had suffered such griefs alone. Above all, ’twas shame that beat him. He should never have accepted her father’s word. He should have written more than once, should have waited below her window every day and night until she was certain of his devotion, no matter how her father threatened.
Fool. Utter, worthless fool.
God willing, she would tell him all. God willing, at long last, she would trust him.
Chapter Thirty
Standing beside the far window in the ballroom, Hannah put a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes. Blessed, blessed solitude. The conversation at dinner had been engaging enough that her lack of appetite had gone unnoticed. Stockton had been in rapt attention with the officer and lady at his side of the table, allowing her a full hour in which she’d not had to speak with him. A tender mercy.
She breathed in deep through her nose, the floral notes of perfumes and colognes beginning once again to dance through the air, as did the voices of the guests as they filled the room. Outside the window was freedom, and it taunted her. Hannah gazed through the glass, her thoughts refusing to leave the place they’d claimed so many hours ago. What dread her future held if even such a gathering could not distract her. When she returned, what would Joseph say? How could she face him?
“You are looking well this evening, Miss Young.”
Hannah spun with a small gasp. “Captain Higley.” Grinning, she tried to act at ease, though somehow she feared her charade was as clear as the wine-filled glass in his hand. “Forgive me. I didn’t hear you…I didn’t know—” She cleared her throat and tried again, grateful a more dignified sound emerged. “Were you at dinner? I didn’t see you.”
He shook his head. “I had business to attend to. I’ve only just arrived. And please, do call me James.”
