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The doors of the large house were fast, and he was about to knock, when they creaked opened.
A wigged man appeared from behind the door and gestured him in. “Good evening, sir. Your name?”
He cleared his throat. “Joseph Young.”
“Aw, yes.” The man shut the door. “I saw your name on the list.” He started down the hall. “This way.”
Joseph’s limbs buzzed. So his name had been on there. He stretched and curled his fingers to ease the building tension. Would Hannah be pleased to see him? Upset? She would be surprised of course, as she didn’t know Higley had told him to come. He prayed her reaction would be one of acceptance if not pleasure, but he doubted the latter. She’d looked near to tears when they’d parted.
He spied the immense portraits in the hall, the detailed rug at his feet, and situated his mind on the person who would surely detest his arrival. Stockton likely hoped to enjoy the evening with Hannah to himself. But that was about to change.
At the entrance of the ballroom, the man motioned for Joseph to enter. “You have arrived just in time. It appears the dancing will soon begin.”
Joseph bowed and entered, grateful his arrival seemed to go unnoticed.
As if tugged by unseen hands, he turned and was struck motionless. In the far corner stood Hannah with Mrs. Pitman and several other women. The lot of them seemed nearly giddy with their lively conversation, while Hannah’s posture and thin smile conveyed something else entirely. And he was to blame.
He hadn’t intended to speak so tersely with her. ’Twas shock that had stripped him of his civility—his soul so violently shaken he could not then, and still could not, find the words to express how he felt and how desperately he wished to hold her. To tell her he held her no blame. To ask her in humility to tell him everything, so that in some way, if ’twas possible, he could try to make it right.
Scanning the room, his vision landed on Stockton and Higley, and he made straight for them, loathing how he must make this last report instead of take Hannah by the hand and lead her immediately away from this place. The heavy scents of wine and candle smoke stung his nose. There were many reasons he was not drawn to such gatherings, and the decadence was only one of them.
“What the devil are you doing here?”
Stockton’s greeting, though churlish, was less hostile than Joseph had expected. A good omen perhaps?
Joseph inclined his head. “Good evening, Major. Captain Higley.” He looked up and froze when the last man turned toward him.
Philo.
Devil’s spit. What was he doing here?
Stockton shifted his weight over his feet. “I don’t remember you receiving an invitation.”
Joseph opened his mouth to respond, but Higley’s answer cut off his own.
“’Twas my doing, sir.” Higley rested a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “I must ask your pardon, but I had supposed you would wish a report after…” He looked to Philo, then stopped and swallowed. “After he finished his duties. So…I invited him to attend.”
Stockton’s glare reddened, that twitch under his eye starting up as it did when he was irked. “I’m surprised at you, Captain.” He sighed with gruff resignation, then motioned to Philo. “Being that you two are family, I do not need to make introductions.”
“Indeed.” Joseph dipped his chin, his stare cutting through the stream of hate that poured from Philo’s small eyes. He prayed the man would keep his mouth shut and not reveal the true nature of their strained past.
Why was he here? Sandwich was no small distance away… The thought smacked him across the head, and he set his jaw. Eaton Hill.
Philo’s ever-abiding disgust stabbed, but Joseph parried with his own. If the man thought to better him, he would soon see his folly. Joseph’s own brother had treated him thus for so many years. He was well acquainted with how to take command of one who attempted to control and demean.
“Well?”
Stockton’s singular question stepped between the fight, and Joseph swallowed, battling the urge to see if Hannah peered his way. Did she know her father was here? Perhaps ’twas the very reason she chose to stand at the other side of the room.
Taking a full breath, Joseph rolled his shoulders back. “’Twas successful.”
Stockton’s eyes narrowed, then eased, as if he understood the reason for Joseph’s laconic answer. In place of a response, Stockton offered only a brief grin before looking away.
Joseph followed the man’s gaze to Hannah, and his muscles hardened. The musicians were beginning to take their places.
Bowing, he stepped away. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He would not allow Stockton near her again. From now on ’twas he who would be at her side. Tonight and forevermore.
