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Greene stepped forward. “Major Stockton, this is Miss Young and her cousin, Mr. Young.” He looked to Hannah, then to the major once more. “Sir, these are the two I was telling you about.”
Stockton grinned, a sickening kind of attraction flaring through his expression as he took her in from head to foot. “A pleasure to meet you indeed.”
His voice unlocked the carefully guarded places she wished to keep hidden, snatching the phantoms by the throat and wielding them like the weapon they were. “Where is our uncle?”
Joseph’s hand suddenly gripped around her waist. “You must forgive my cousin. The journey has been —”
“Not at all.” Stockton put a hand to his chest and stepped back. “So many miles in so much cold. Nay, you both should come into the house immediately.”
Stockton tipped his head toward Greene. “Have Private Peterson care for their horses and bring in the trunks.” At this he turned back to Hannah, offering his elbow. She took it, and he started for the house. “I shall answer you, but first, I beg you to warm yourself by the fire.”
Hannah’s blood pounded in her ears. He spoke as if it were his home, his fire. She looked to Joseph, whose cautioning glance did little to buff away the scratching irritations she’d tried but failed to prepare for. God give her strength.
Stockton opened the door and motioned for her to enter, followed by Joseph before dripping his attentions on her once more. “You are surely chilled to the bone.”
Once inside, Hannah took quick stock of the parlor. Just as she’d left it, but for two kitchen chairs that had been positioned near the fire in the front room alongside the others. Was all the same in the rooms abovestairs? Her pained curiosity begged her to look to the kitchen, to see the place Ensign had first fallen by the ball that hit him, but she schooled an even expression and took the first seat Stockton offered.
Standing like the officer he was, the major took his place in front of the fire, his back to the warmth, one hand grasping his coat, the other resting at his side.
He looked to Greene, who was already joining them inside. “Major Stockton, I have a matter that—”
“Yes, yes.” Stockton’s amiability waxed cold only in his eyes. “My lieutenant tells me there is something I must address ere we discuss anything else.” Pausing, he allowed his stare to harden and linger. “He claims…he claims, Miss Young, that you were here several nights ago.”
Dear Lord.
“Here?” Hannah flung a glance to Joseph, who stood behind where she sat as if ready to pull her to safety. All the blood in her limbs retreated to her heart. Releasing a sprite laugh, she looked to Greene, then back to St
ockton. “Why, that is impossible, sir, as I have been traveling back from Salem.”
Greene and Stockton shared a brief communication that only their eyes could detect before Stockton faced her. He inclined his head. “I have trusted Greene for some time now, and if he says you are familiar to him, I am tempted to take his word. You see, there was a young woman here when we first arrived, and we’ve been most concerned, since she seems to have run away.”
Panic gripped her chest and refused to remove its claws. Lord, I pray thee… A brush of thought dislodged the stabbing, and she looked around before plaiting her face with sincere inquiry. “Do you mean Betsy?” The men glanced at each other, and she turned to Joseph. “Have you seen her?”
He shook his head, glancing around as if trying to distinguish any sign of this fabricated soul.
Stockton frowned politely, and she continued, praying the heaven-inspired idea would imprint upon their minds in place of everything else. “We hired a young woman to see to Uncle’s needs while we were away. I would have expected to see her, just as I expected to see my uncle, and thus far neither have yet to make an appearance. Why in heavens name would she run?” Laughing, Hannah relaxed her hands in her lap. “I daresay the arrival of your distinguished men in arms may have frightened her away. Do you not think so, Major?” Tilting her head at a shy slant, she prayed the man would accept her teasing.
Greene’s sharp stare cut from her to the major. “You hired a woman to care for your uncle while you were gone?”
“Aye.” She didn’t need to feign the sudden tightness in her voice. “He has just recently lost his wife, and we didn’t wish him to be alone.”
“I see.” Stockton’s face curled in a smile that would have seemed sincere had she not known the villainous truth that lingered behind the bars of his heart. He flung a glance to Greene that hurled so hard against him, he took a step back. “Forgive us. It seems this conflict with the Patriots makes us suspicious.”
“I do understand. ’Tis no matter.” She looked to Joseph. “’Twould seem it is difficult to acquire good help these days.”
He shrugged a shoulder, his face a melding of emotions she hadn’t time to decipher. Was he pleased? Dissatisfied with her explanation? He would surely tell her his feelings later, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear them.
Sitting straight, Hannah poured calm over the ruts in her voice. “Now, please, sir, where is our uncle?”
She felt a hand on her shoulder and straightened, not needing to look to know that Joseph touched her. His large, strong hands were known to her through glove and coat. The touch infused her with a courage she hadn’t known was missing.
Stockton looked to Greene, then tossed his gaze to Joseph before stilling it upon her. “It gives me no pleasure to inform you, Miss Young, that your uncle is dead.”
The sudden swelling ache in her throat and burning in her eyes forced her to straighten. She swallowed and took in a deep breath before attempting to speak.
Blessedly, Joseph did before her. “When?”
“Four days past.”
