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“Uh, nay. I have not, sir.”
His disinterested look morphed into strained attentiveness. “Are you sure that is the right course, Ezra? You hardly know the woman.”
Stockton’s cheekbones reddened, but his voice stayed smooth. “If there were anything to be questioned, I assure you I would have detected it.” He toyed with the edge of the tablecloth, nodding his head toward Joseph. “That is the same for Mr. Young, as well.”
Pitman glanced to Joseph, then Hannah. “You know our work is secretive. That you cannot share what you will learn.”
“Aye, sir.” Her heart crashed against her ribs.
His eyes thinned. “There has already been someone who has broken a trust, and though that person has not yet been discovered, they will be. And when they are, they will be hanged.”
“Pitman.” St
ockton’s polite reprimand stalled the major’s words. “Is that really necessary?”
Dottie sat with face pinched, her hands in her lap. She gifted Hannah an understanding grin, but it did little to ease the vice of tension that squeezed the blood from her head.
“If anyone is to engage in the work of war, they should understand the risks and that they are not exempt.”
Stockton released an uncomfortable chuckle. “I am sure Miss Young is fully aware—”
“Should we not speak more of the ball?” Higley’s well-timed interruption seemed welcome by all but Pitman.
Stockton raised his almost empty glass. “Excellent suggestion.”
Dottie began immediately a lengthy discussion of the plans and preparations that were already underway, but Hannah could hear nothing, could hardly see or taste or smell. She could feel only the heated skewer of Joseph’s gaze that burned against her skin.
She couldn’t imagine what scoldings awaited her. Seconds ago she was eager for the evening to end. Now, despite the discomfiting conversation, the long hours were welcome.
Joseph had much to say. And she knew the moment their guests took their leave, he would speak it all.
Chapter Sixteen
Joseph stood at the door, Hannah at his side, bidding farewell to their companions as Major Pitman and his wife ducked into the carriage. Stockton and Higley mounted their horses, touching their hats in final parting. The carriage door closed at last, the soldiers banking them on both sides as they rode away. Joseph allowed his chest to stretch as he filled his lungs with the cold air that spilled through the open doorway.
The hours-long visit had taken him to the very brink of distraction. So much had been revealed he could hardly get his mind to rest. It ran like Pheidippides of old, racing to the finish. Yet for Joseph there was no end—no place for his thoughts to find solace.
Hannah ducked away and headed to the kitchen, hoping, no doubt, to postpone the onslaught she must know was coming. Her stance told him she knew he would ask her everything once the door was shut. And he would. Man that he was, he wished to slam it closed and speak sense to her, make her see that accepting Stockton’s offer for both the dance and the scribing was outright foolery. But wisdom prevailed, and he clicked the door quietly in place.
He followed her, patient. To pounce on her with his frustrations was not only unkind, ’twas perilous. He wished to gain back her trust, not rip it from its fragile roots.
She brought the soiled plates to the worktable near the basin of heated water. Joseph did the same, amused by the way she so artfully avoided his gaze.
“’Tis good Stockton has gone with them.” She said the next almost to herself. “I can hardly breathe with him in the same room.”
Then why spend so much time with him? Joseph tugged at the words, lest they escape.
“’Twas a delicious meal, Hannah.” He caught her eye and held it, warmed by the way his compliment seemed to shimmer unwittingly in her expression. The following tease, he couldn’t help. “Higley certainly enjoyed it. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from you.”
Joseph had spied the man gazing at her with more than simple friendship. And though he supposed he had nothing to fear from him, the truth remained. Higley knew Joseph’s identity, and yet refused to confess it. Unknowns piled like dry tinder. A single spark could ignite them, turning everything they’d worked for into nothing but ash.
“Higley hardly noticed me, and good thing.” Hands full, Hannah offered him a wry look before depositing the stack beside the basin. “My only hope is that this evening was successful for our cause.” She scraped the plates clean, forcing the remnants into a bucket. “Pitman seemed no more moved than he was when he first arrived.”
“If Stockton continues to trust us, I believe we are safe. Pitman is an obstacle, but not an impassable one.” His next words were a gamble as he brought a handful of glasses to the basin. “However…he did not likely miss that your attentions were on me most of the evening.”
A clank resounded as she almost dropped the plates in her hands and whirled around, her cheeks a charming shade of scarlet. Her hands flew to her hips. “I did my best not to look at you too often. I—” The moment the confession left her mouth, her eyes went wide and her face almost blotchy from embarrassment. Had she meant she wanted to look at him more than she did?
Smoothing her hands down her skirt, Hannah’s voice was cracked and shallow. “I didn’t mean…I mean…”
