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“Will you be attending the ball tonight?”
Grinning, he shook his head. “Nay, miss. ’Tis an affair for those higher in rank and status than I.” Such a thing seemed not to dim his spirit. “Mrs. Pitman is known for throwing quite a party. I am sure you will have an enjoyable evening.”
“I am sure I shall.”
Too bad he would not attend. At least then perhaps Hannah might have someone with whom she would like to converse.
Hannah curtsied slightly, reaching for the door. “I thank you, Reece.”
He touched the end of his hat. “Miss.”
Turning, he started for the yard, and she closed the door.
A package. No one had ever given her anything like this before. Mouth twisting sideways, she pulled her lip between her teeth, examining the bundle in her hands. Of medium weight, the package was wrapped in simple brown paper, twine crisscrossing over the front and back. She lifted it up to see if a note was attached, but there was none she could detect. Suddenly realization poured like a crisp rain.
Caroline.
She must have sent a gown. Face blooming, Hannah released a joyous breath. Such a dear she was. Hannah couldn’t curb her girlish enthusiasm and hurried abovestairs. Sitting on the bed, she untied the twine and unwrapped what she knew it must be. Folding the paper away like curtains to a spring garden, Hannah held her breath.
Oh dearest heaven.
A note rested atop the gift. A single small card bearing words she could hear as well as read. For you, my darling.
Hannah’s breath stilled in awe. My darling. He hadn’t called her that since…oh, how she’d missed the sound of the words.
Holding the cream gown up—the pink petticoat folded beneath and peeking hello—Hannah’s eyes began to burn. When had he purchased it? Her throat ached. She didn’t deserve him. How had she been so blessed to gain a second chance?
Like a cry from the past, the last untold secret wailed for revelation. She could hold it in no longer, and she put a hand to her head. Lord, grant me the right moment to tell him, and swiftly. He must know before we speak vows.
When surely the gift was intended to lift her spirits, it did the opposite. He gave her gifts and made her promises for the future, and she would give him the knowledge of something so mournful?
She laid the gown aside and went to the door, latching it shut before beginning to unfasten her bodice. Slipping it from her shoulders, she moved to the table and sat, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror.
After tonight…if he would still have her, they would be one at last. Their lives joined as she had always wished.
After the ball. After the raid. After this final missive made it into the hands of the Patriots. Then they would be free. Where they would go, she knew and cared not, for he was her home.
She reached two fingers between her breasts and removed the message she’d copied.
Dorchester Heights.
Reading again the possible fate of her friends in Roxbury, Hannah shuddered. Washington must learn of this and take the hill as swiftly as he could. Another devastation like that at Bunker Hill would be unimaginable. But perhaps Washington had enough men—more than even Howe—and such an end could be averted.
Sighing out the storm, she replaced the note and reached for the pitcher, pouring the cool water into the basin atop her dressing table. The soaked cloth slicked over her skin as she began the process of cleaning, smoothing, brushing, curling. With help the task was difficult enough, but alone, ’twas nearly impossible.
The longer she toiled, the more her anxieties domed over her. What if the raid failed? What if she failed? She was supposed to keep Stockton well entertained, but could she? Lord, be my guide, I pray thee.
Dotting rosewater at her neck, she pinched her cheeks and pulled on her stockings, securing them with a ribbon above her knees. Hair artfully styled with two thick ringlets draping her neck, she pinned the ribbon Caroline had gifted her up and through the curls atop her head.
She reached for the gown, running her fingers over the small, delicate flowers embroidered at the edges. Exquisite. Almost too beautiful to wear. She grinned. Almost.
Once on, panniers perfectly placed and stomacher pinned, Hannah stared at herself in the mirror. How many years had it been since she had felt this beautiful? Her lips pulled upward, her smile unable to fully release the humble joy, the fullness of peace that stroked her from the inside. ’Twas not the gown that made her feel so. ’Twas love. The love of and for a man she’d longed for since her youth.
Lord, how do I repay thee for such happiness?
She sniffed away the brimming tears and opened her drawer, reaching in the back for the pearls Ensign had given her, when a knock tapped at the door.
“Hannah?”
