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Wasn’t it? Philo glanced around again, more to calm the restless anxiety than study the tool-lined wall.
“I venture it can’t be far.” Leo relieved the iron from the water and examined it. “He said he’ll return on occasion to give me additional training if I should like, and I certainly shall, I can tell you that.”
Genuine glee lifted the corners of Philo’s mouth. Is that so? “Excellent, excellent.” Philo backed his way to the door. “Well, I would not want to keep you from your work. I can see you are quite busy.”
Leo halted. “That’s all you came for?”
He chuckled. “Aye. Unless you should like to discuss my niece.”
Leo’s throat bobbed as the color drained from his face. His jaw worked, and he turned to a box of small tools. “Good day, Reverend.”
Philo bowed slightly and touched his hat while amusement pulled a tight grin over his lips. “I hope to see you at Sunday services.”
Only Leo’s eyes lifted. “You know I attend with Reverend Charles.”
“Of course.” Philo shrugged. “But should you wish for additional enlightenment, you are always welcome.” Turning, he marched out, leaving the musky warmth of the large space, eager to free his legs of the tension they’d borne since before he entered.
He stopped in the alley, staring at his shoes on the dirty snow. ’Twasn’t much, but more than he’d had before. He looked up, scowling the information into place. Ensign must have sold the foundry to Joseph. The man had always had a weakness for Hannah, and should she have ever expressed any remaining inclination toward Joseph, Ensign might have lured him there for more reasons than simply business.
That discordant melody played its mournful tune, as it had from the time Hannah had left. Nay, since he’d forced her out. She had defamed him, she and that lecherous man. The whisper of Philo’s conscience tried in vain to crack the pride that kept him standing. What he’d done, he’d done to protect her as well as himself. How could she have been so thoughtless to heap upon them such shame? He scratched the back of his head and started walking. He hadn’t been wrong in his actions. He’d done the harder, more righteous thing. And after all this time, Ensign a
imed to renew the pain and ruin that Hannah and Joseph’s first tryst had caused them—had caused him.
In the street once again, he made his way to Newcomb. He craved not only supper but a warm seat while his brain simmered on the knowledge he’d been given—before he would make his way to Plymouth and unveil the secrets Ensign kept hidden.
’Twas time, at last, he paid a visit.
Chapter Fifteen
Hannah scrambled to place the last plate on the table and the last glass at its station before Stockton and the other guests arrived. The approaching evening swept a rich navy over the sky, a few sparkling stars already beginning their nightly watch. Peering out the window, her stomach coiled in knots. And not only for the visitors who were minutes away.
Ever since yesterday, ever since that bewitching featherlight kiss… Oh dear heaven. She was a fool.
Moving in front of the fire, Hannah placed a hand over her stays, securing every lingering sensation safely within their prison walls and tossing the key.
That moment was naught but a lapse, a fleeting of weakness. He had just rescued her from atrocity. Thus her actions were understandable, were they not?
Like a breath over steam, she sighed away the rest of her thoughts. She must think of this moment, this impending meal. Certainly that was enough for her palms to moisten over. Keeping her mind upon that would be no difficult task. She raised her chin, feeling more pacified already.
Hannah peered again out the window, then at the fried chicken at the center of the table, the meat pie, and bounteous dish of potatoes and carrots. The onion rings, succotash, and corn cakes infused the air with scents that made her mouth water, though she feared her appetite was less than minimal, her nerves having robbed any desire to eat.
Fingernail at her teeth, she studied the table. Had she forgotten anything? Stockton must be impressed. If not, his like for her might lessen, and if so, he might seal his lips to what knowledge she and Joseph worked so hard to attain. They must learn where the British planned to engage. And how. However much they nauseated her, his attentions might prove to be the nurturing ground for her and Joseph’s secret works. She grimaced. At least, thank the Lord, she needn’t till that ground for long.
Breathing deeply, she removed her apron and examined the azure floral design of her printed cotton dress for any impediment or smudge she might have overlooked. There was naught that she could notice, and she could only hope none lurked unseen. Though the gown was nearly six years old and more worn than she’d like to admit, ’twas passable, and wearing it made her feel less ordinary—younger, even.
Critiquing the spread one last time, she fiddled with a pin that tried to stray from her curled tresses.
“They have not yet arrived, hmm?” Of a sudden, Joseph’s voice circled through the kitchen. “I should expect they will be here any moment.”
Hannah raised her head, instantly wishing she still had something to grasp hold of. Wearing a pair of white breeches, white linen shirt, simple waistcoat, and tan jacket, his hair brushed and tied, Joseph looked more like a hero from a fairy tale than a man who had once called her “my darling.”
Her heart sputtered, and she busied herself by fussing with the placement of the forks. “Such a fine jacket and breeches. Where did you come by them?”
Adjusting his neckcloth, his lips stretched to a smile that teased far more than he realized.
“If this were home, I would have donned something much finer. But as the army doesn’t require more than passable attire, this was all I brought.” His eyes softened as he trailed his gaze over her gown. “You look beautiful, Hannah.”
Cheeks aflame, Hannah could only offer a swift meeting of eyes before she spun away for a serving spoon she’d neglected. Preparing something artful in reply, her voice failed her, and she could only eke out a small “Thank you.”
