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Liar!
Rage clawed through Philo’s muscles, and were it not for his need to know more before he acted, he would have charged through the room and tackled the imbecile. Philo might not have been a perfect father, but hadn’t he taught her enough to be wary of such men?
As Hannah gazed at Joseph, eyes shimmering and expression so full of longing, something faraway in Philo’s mind stirred. A memory, so many years hidden, rustled beneath the du
st and cobwebs of forced forgetfulness until his heart quivered. Mariah. That was how his wife had looked at him when they had first twined their hearts and their hands. That same longing and hope he’d buried with half his soul when he’d placed her in the ground.
He blinked to be sure he hadn’t imagined the look on his daughter’s face. Nay. She couldn’t feel love. They were living in sin.
Joseph’s voice grew quieter, and Philo had to strain to hear him.
“We are done now—no more spying. No more secrets. Our future awaits us.”
Spying?
Philo glanced away, his pulse thundering. Could Joseph be the informant Stockton and the other soldier searched for?
All such thoughts fled when Joseph began again, and Philo flicked his vision toward them, his stomach at his feet.
“Your father will never come between us again.”
Philo scoffed inwardly. He thought to take her away, hmm?
A scuffle at the front of the hall tugged at him, and he craned his head back. Several soldiers rushed in the front doors, their voices taut and animated. Stockton and Pitman appeared, each with rigid backs and wide feet. Something was wrong. Philo spun around to the two he spied as Hannah handed Joseph a note. Joseph’s eyes narrowed, and his brow plunged low.
“The Patriots need this.”
The voices at the other end of the hall increased, and three words met his ears. Raid. Patriots. Spies.
Stunned, Philo’s mind lunged for the first thought and clung to it. He stepped away and pointed at the library, yelling. “Here! He’s here! The spy you’re looking for is here!”
Every man at the front of the hall spun toward him, and he ran two steps into the room. “You cannot escape now.”
Hannah’s face went white, hate spewing from her eyes before she turned to Joseph and pointed to the window. “Go!”
Joseph’s face crunched. “I won’t leave you.”
She rushed to the window and grunted as she pulled the pane upward. At her side in seconds, Joseph shook his head. “I can’t?”
“There!”
A brush of wind moved past Philo as the soldiers rushed in.
“Go!” Hannah’s voice screeched through the room. Agony bled through Joseph’s face. Ducking, he leapt from the window as the soldiers dashed across the room.
Shoulders straight, Hannah seemed heedless of the commotion, the yelling. Her stare gripped Philo at the throat, saying far more than her voice ever could.
Philo’s limbs went weak. He had done right, hadn’t he?
Stockton rushed forward, bumping Philo as he barreled into the room. “Where is he?”
Another soldier hurried to him, pointing to the window. “He escaped.”
Stockton’s voice boomed like cannon fire, his face as scarlet as his coat. “Go after him!”
The two others raced from the room, and Philo dared a question. “What’s happened?”
“There’s been a raid.” Unmoving, Stockton stared at Hannah. “The Patriots somehow knew of the stores and would have taken them all had not one of my men followed a hunch and gone to check.”
