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He shook his head, following her. “’Tis common, and your acceptance would be of great help not only to myself but to the valiant efforts we strive to achieve.”
Her insides squirmed. Valiant efforts to achieve what? The suppression of fellow British citizens? She exhaled away the smoke of anger that clogged her lungs. “I…I hardly know what to say.”
“Miss Young…” He crept closer and stopped within inches of her, his voice growing rich, his words bold. “I have never met anyone so lovely, and I find I crave your company.” He continued, his tone lightening, as if he feared alarming her. “That is, if you are willing to spend time with a lonely old soldier.”
Now she truly feared she would be sick. She swallowed and dared to meet his hooded gaze. “Not lonely, surely.”
“I am surrounded by soldiers, aye. But what companions are they?” He pinned her motionless. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, naturally. I simply wish for the help of one whose smile will ease the burdens of my station. You understand.”
His last two words hit like the gouging stab of a bayonet. This was not for her to decline. She could see it in the fine lines around his eyes. Her answer must be yes. Both for his demand of it, but also… Her mind stilled and cleared, like a breeze that parted a cloudy sky. Aye. She must do it. Think of what she might learn from his very lips?
Thank you, Lord. This was His doing.
Molding a modest grin on her face, Hannah pretended reluctance. “’Twould be an honor, Major. But I must tell you…” A barrier should be in place, something that might hopefully keep the man at a distance. “In hopes that our relationship is quite understood, I must tell you that I am being courted.”
Stockton’s expression rounded, and his brow shot up before he relaxed his look with a sigh. “I cannot say I am surprised.”
Hannah lowered her lashes in humble response. Pray do not ask more.
“You have dashed all my dreams, dear lady.”
She looked up to find Stockton’s smile heightened on one side. Was that teasing in his voice?
“Tell me, who is the fortunate gentleman who claims your affections?”
A few breaths, and the rest of the falsehood popped free. “He is at sea, sir. I expect him home next year.”
Stockton tsked in disapproval. “So long? How can he bear to be away from you for any length of time?”
“We endure it as best we can.” She sealed her lips to cover the fragile lie she’d just shaped before returning her attention to the various goods on the table.
“I do hope this will not keep you from assisting me. You must know how humbly I implore you.”
Knife in hand, she hovered it over the waiting mass of pudding. “You are too kind, sir.”
He took the place Joseph had occupied only minutes before. “Then you will accept.”
A spark of rebellion ignited from the core of her soul, heating her entire frame. She could not resist. This man was as culpable as Greene in the death of her uncle. And now he offered her this chance, this favor? A grin rose to her mouth. Raising her chin, she spoke to the window. “Aye, sir. Most agreeably.”
He straightened, voice subtly proud, as if he’d just won a battle. “I am most pleased. Most pleased indeed.”
Chapter Twelve
“Who are you?”
Joseph stood in the open doorway of the foundry, fists rounded and ready. Two men, one at each forge, dropped their hands from their work with a quick nod.
The nearest man stepped forward, wiping his palms on his leather apron. Ruddy complexion and thinning hairline, the round man’s face appeared much younger than the rest of him. “Private Sackett, sir.” He nodded sideways with his head toward the other one. “That there’s Private Deane.”
They didn’t appear threatening, but that meant little. “What are you doing here? Did Stockton send you?”
“He did, sir.” Sackett reached out and offered his hand. Joseph took it, impressed with the firmness of his grip. “He said to have things ready so you could get started right away.”
Impressive. It seemed Stockton took this work as seriously as Joseph did. He scanned the rest of the foundry to be sure there were no other Redcoats lurking in the shadows.
Closing the door behind him, Joseph locked in what meager warmth hovered in the giant room. Taking another quick assessment, he removed his greatcoat and hat. A welcome sensation breezed through Joseph’s frame as he glanced across the foundry. How right it felt to be surrounded by the blast of heat and scent of scalding metal. The itch to hold a hammer in his fingers and feel the bite of flying sparks on his skin warmed him despite the chill in the air. Wherever a bellows blew and iron glowed, there he belonged.
Both forges were at work, but with only three men the task would take longer than he supposed Stockton would like. “Anyone else coming?”
