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Chapter Thirteen
Despite his best efforts, Bertram could not quite get Letty’s words out of his head. They haunted his dreams even as they caused him to lie awake late into the night, thinking. He truly had no idea what to do with her. He could not stand the idea of having her hanged for a spy.
So what am I to do with her? I cannot keep her under my roof forever.Should I send her away?
George had been over the moon to see them riding into the estate grounds together the day before. He had gone so far as to let out a loud, piercing squeal. “Letty!” he cried before flinging himself forward, almost endangering his life beneath the horses’ hooves.
Letty had leapt from her horse, her face alight and gathered him into her arms. “George!” she said in the same tone, albeit not at such a high pitch. “I missed you.”
George leaned back so that he could look into her face. “I missed you too, Letty. Will you make me some cake?”
Bertram smiled at the memory. His son most definitely knew what he wanted and was not afraid to ask for it.
“Of course I will.” Letty sounded rather pleased to be asked and Bertram’s heart twisted with confusion.
Who are you really? Are you the woman who gladly feeds my son the most delicious sweets or are you a villain to be feared?
He hated the fact that he was unable to trust her completely. He got up, tired of brooding and padded to the side table on which sat a jug of water. He washed his face, before donning a dressing gown and slippers. He slipped out of the chamber, making his way to the balcony from which he could look out at the countryside, all the way to the sea. It was his favorite place to think. He loved the way the wind blew in his face and cleared away the cobwebs as he looked out at the vastness of the ocean. His problems always seemed so much smaller in the face of the infinity of the sea and sky.
Bertram stepped out onto the balcony, looking up at the gathering clouds. If he was not mistaken, it would rain soon. A movement in his periphery had him turning sharply.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t…” Letty stammered to a stop, watching him helplessly. She was huddled into a blanket and seemed to be getting to her feet in preparation to depart.
Bertram sighed inwardly.
Can I not even brood without her showing up?
“It’s perfectly all right. You don’t have to leave.”
She hesitated a moment and then sat back down on the stone ledge, and lifted her head to the skies.
“Dreaming of freedom?” he couldn’t quite help the bitter sharpness of his question.
She huffed a laugh before turning her head slightly to eye him sardonically. “Hardly.”
His eyebrow quirked. “What does that mean?”
“It means that my people will be hardly any more pleased to see me than you are.”
He turned to face her fully. “Why ever not?”
She expelled a breath in the air, sounding so defeated that he could hardly reconcile his idea of her with it.
“I was supposed to have made a report by now. Instead, here I am, still living in your home.” She turned gray eyes on him, he could see their silver gleam in the moonlight. “I am not shackled and yet I don’t leave. What are they to think?”
His mouth twisted. “Perhaps that you have not obtained the information you came for.”
She huffed, sounding even more resigned. “You well know that the intelligence is time sensitive. If the French are to do anything about it, they must receive it in good time. This was impressed upon me with great emphasis.”
His brow furrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it doesn’t matter now.”
He looked forward, towards the horizon where the inky black sky, dotted with stars met the dark sea, the moon a beacon between. He blinked a few times brow furrowing. “Why are younottrying to escape?”
“I gave myparole.”
“You are a spy, not a soldier. Do you not operate under different rules?”
