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Shifting his feet, Philo took an even more casual stance and tossed the other officer a smile before speaking. “I must say I am quite surprised they are able to endure each other’s company so well.”
Stockton snapped at the bait. “How do you mean?”
Philo shrugged, encasing himself in the most fatherly tone he could. He tilted his head and shook it slightly, as if he regarded the past as only a minor impediment, not a sheer-sided precipice he must scale to attain his goal. “Youth, you know. Many years ago Joseph loved Hannah and tried to win her, but I helped her see the error of him as a choice.” He slid a quick glance to Stockton, whose face was pinched with question, so he went on. “I do not like him at the property. I should feel more comfortable if I were there in place of him. I could oversee anything as well as he, and then Hannah would not be at his mercy.”
“I did not know this.” Stockton’s tone gained a level of piqued animation. “They said nothing of—”
“And of course I am sure Joseph prodded her not to mention it. No doubt he brought her to Eaton Hill with the intent of wooing her again.” Diving ever deeper in the pool he filled, Philo sighed, eyebrows pinched up. “I have been considering it since you informed me of the situation, and I cannot say it sits well with me. As her father I cannot help but—”
Stockton cut the air with his hand, his stare gouging through the crowd.
God himself could not have organized a more flawless chronology. Escaping the dance floor was Hannah with Joseph at her heels. Philo’s chest lifted and lowered with gaining bliss. Perfect.
Jutting his drink toward his officer, Stockton moved forward. “I should like to see what—”
“Sir.”
Stockton whirled, his nostrils flared. “What, Higley?”
“Did Major Pitman tell you about Lieutenant Greene?”
His brow plunged. “Cannot this wait?”
The soldier shook his head apologetically. “I meant to tell you earlier, but—”
“Well?” Not even a shred of patience filtered Stockton’s voice.
Philo looked to the door of the ballroom. Joseph and Hannah were gone, but to where was unknown.
Higley motioned sideways. “He was seen in town and is believed to be about some business—”
“What business? I told him to stay in Sandwich.” Stockton growled and swore under his breath. “How long has Pitman known?” Again he swore and marched forward. “Never mind. I have more urgent —”
“He might be the informant.”
This stalled him. Philo again glanced to the door, his muscles ticking. He’d nearly had him. Blast. If this man were not so intent on speaking…
Stockton turned to fully face the one who’d borne the news. “How do you know this? Has Pitman sent for his arrest?”
“It seems he fled.”
“Fled? Impossible.” Jaw working, he whirled, scanning the ballroom. “Where is Pitman?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Without even a second glance, Stockton marched from the room, storming across Philo’s carefully laid trail. He inhaled, neck cording. This was not meant to be. He was supposed to throw Joseph out, banish him from Eaton Hill—place him in charge.
Then like a glimmer of light in the center of his mind, a thought was born. Perhaps there was still a chance.
Stockton plowed through the doors, then to the right. Philo followed but went left down the long, wide hall.
From the nearest doorway, light spilled over the carpet. As he approached, the sound of voices rustled the air, and he hurried forward, then slowed when he was within inches of the opening.
Back pressed against the wall, he turned his head just so, and the two of them came into perfect view. He dulled his hearing to all but their hushed words. That ignoble man would think to—
Philo’s thoughts skidded to a jerking halt when Joseph pulled something from his pocket and spoke in such tender tones Philo could almost believe the man was sincere. If he didn’t know the deeper depravities of Joseph’s soul, he might have been convinced—certainly any woman would be.
“Come away with me tonight.” Joseph neared her until their bodies nearly touched, one hand at her face. “We can at last be married and begin the life we wished for ourselves.”
