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“Never mind. I can see by your face the way of it.”
“I wish I could give you some information.”
He waved a hand. “I’d better go to class if I want to perfect me French. Tattle managed to find something I do worse than shooting.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. You don’t smile enough. You fair light up a room when you do.”
She sighed. “Mr. Kelly—”
“Cal.”
“—don’t you ever give up?”
He seemed to consider. “No, Bridget. I never give up.”
***
“CAL, WAKE UP.” CAL rolled over in his bed and covered his head with the pillow. Six in the morning came earlier and earlier every day. Someone shook him. “Cal.”
It was Willoughby Galloway. He was easy enough to put off. “In a minute,” he grumbled.
“Baron is asking for you. Now.”
Cal lowered the pillow. “Baron?” He looked about at Hew and Duncan, both sleeping in their beds. “What time is it?”
Galloway checked his pocket watch. “Quarter to three. I couldn’t sleep and was reading in the common room. Baron came in and asked me to tell you to come to the farmhouse right away.”
Christ Jaysus. What was the problem now? Not another battered Irishman to question.
Cal swung his legs over the side of his bed and dressed in the dark. He didn’t relish leaving his soft, warm bed, which only went to show how spoiled he’d become since he’d arrived. In London, he’d slept in a cold, wet alley half the time.
But Cal had a feeling his days of being spoiled were over.
He fumbled into his coat and boots and tromped to the farmhouse, the lower floor of which was lit up as though the tenants were hosting a party. He stopped at the door and pushed his hair out of his face then entered. Bridget was waiting just inside the entryway. She rose from her chair. “Mr. Kelly. Thank you for coming.”
“Baron wanted to see me.”
She nodded. “He wants to see us both.”
That explained why she was awake at this time of night and fully dressed with her hair pinned neatly at her nape and her clipboard in hand. She led him to Baron’s office, where Cal could see through the open door that Baron sat at his desk, pouring over documents. He’d removed his coat and loosened his neck cloth and looked as though he hadn’t yet been to bed. Bridget tapped on the door jamb lightly.
“Come in,” Baron said without looking up. Bridget entered, taking a seat in front of the desk, rather than beside it as she had before. Cal sat next to her, wondering what this was all about and rather fearing he already knew.
“It’s time to go,” Baron said without any preamble.
Cal didn’t ask where. Ireland.
“You have two hours to gather what you need and then a coach will be here to take you to the coast. When you arrive in Ireland, you’ll be met and taken to Belfast. You’ll be given a place to live.” He lifted a sheet of paper then another, finally extracting one from the pile on his desk. “This is a list of the men and women we are interested in. Meet them. Find out what they are planning. Sabotage it.”
He handed the paper to Bridget, who took it and clipped it to her board.
“Who exactly are these people we’re sabotaging?” Cal asked. The money he would receive meant more to him than his loyalty to his fellow Irishmen, but he felt a twinge of patriotism he hadn’t expected. He didn’t want to betray good Irishmen to the English. The Irish had suffered enough at the hands of the English.
“Then you haven’t heard of Innishfree?” Baron asked.
Cal glanced at Bridget, but she stared straight ahead. Of course, she’d gone to Baron with what he’d told her. Cal considered his response and settled on something vague. “Should I have?”
