Surrender the Night (36 page)

“I beg to differ with you, Mr. Snyder,” her uncle said in a tone that lacked its normal solicitude. In fact, her uncle had seemed unusually ill at ease during their evening meal, making curt remarks toward their guest and offering up a chorus of groans and sighs, mimicking the silent ones grinding through Rose.

Aunt Muira had attempted to make up for his behavior by engaging
Mr. Snyder in a discussion of the city militia’s readiness to fight and the council’s recent decision to keep pigs from running rampant through the city streets.

Which gave Mr. Snyder the center stage he so often sought and relished in. But which had further squelched Rose’s appetite for the broiled cod, potatoes, and fresh greens that stared up at her from her plate, uneaten.

“Our lookouts have spotted a new British fleet, commanded, some say, by Sir Alexander Cochrane,” Uncle Forbes continued. “A formidable force of four ships of the line, twenty frigates and sloops, and twenty troop transports.” He stretched his shoulders and leaned back on the sofa. “Since the British have already successfully blockaded the Chesapeake, it worries me.”

“Yes.” Rose’s aunt folded her hands in her lap and swept green eyes filled with concern over them all. “It would seem the defeat of Napoleon in France has emboldened the British to pursue victory here as soon as possible.”

For the first time since she’d met her, Rose detected a slight glimmer of fear cross her aunt’s eyes. Which only set Rose’s own nerves further on edge.

Uncle Forbes laid a hand atop his wife’s. “Never fear, dearest. God is in control. We must continue to pray for our victory.”

“Pray, humph.” Mr. Snyder dabbed his fingers over his tongue then slicked back the red hair on either side of his temples. A vision of the slithering tongue of a snake formed in Rose’s mind.

“We must act. We must take up arms and force these devilish British off our shores.” He speared Rose with a devious, determined gaze. She knew he spoke of Alex. She averted her eyes to the open window where thick darkness seemed to pour into the room from outside like black molasses. Not even a wisp of a breeze entered behind it to relieve the dank, oppressive air that always seemed to hover around Mr. Snyder.

“All this talk of war.” Amelia pouted. “Can we talk of brighter things, perhaps?” She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Like the ball at the Fountain Inn?”

“Is that all you think about, Amelia?” Rose instantly regretted her tone as her maid swallowed and stared down at the hands in her lap.

“Forgive me.” Rose set down her cup and grasped Amelia’s hand.
“I fear I am not myself lately.”

“As much as I love a good soiree”—Uncle Forbes fingered a stain on his cravat—“shouldn’t we be preparing for a possible invasion instead of dancing the night away?”

“It is good for morale, dearest.” Candlelight shimmered over Aunt Muira’s burgundy-colored hair, streaking it crimson. “The citizens of Baltimore need to escape the constant threat of attack, if only for one night.”

If only Rose could escape the constant threat of the man sitting across from her. She flattened her lips and found Uncle Forbes’s tender gaze still on her. Did her uncle know of the councilman’s insidious plan? But how could he? Rose had thought it best to keep the man’s threats from her family. There was no need to cause alarm over something that could not be changed.

As if Mr. Snyder’s presence wasn’t disconcerting enough, her uncle’s odd behavior only increased the turmoil clawing at her insides. Plucking out her fan, she waved it over her heated skin.

“By the by, speaking of the Fountain Inn.” Mr. Snyder’s nasally voice shot through the room like a quiver of arrows. Rose resisted the urge to duck to avoid being pierced by one.

“If I may, Miss McGuire, it would be my honor to escort you to the ball.”

She should have ducked.

Her stomach gurgled and a sour taste rose to her mouth. Why was he putting on such airs? He knew she could not refuse him. She could refuse him nothing as long as he threatened her family. Yet … she bit her lip. Perhaps he would release her from the obligation of attending this silly ball. She pasted on a smile. “You are too kind, Mr. Snyder, but I have not been well lately and wish to remain home.”

“Indeed? But it is three days away. Surely you will regain your strength by then.” One cultured brow rose above eyes that hardened at her denial.

“Rose, dear.” Aunt Muira patted her hair in place. “A night of fun and dancing will do you good. And I can think of no better escort than Mr. Snyder.”

Uncle Forbes coughed and slammed down his teacup.

“Do say yes, Rose.” Amelia jumped in her seat, bouncing Rose on
the settee. “Think of the fun we could have together.”

Rose smiled at her maid, urging her with her eyes to remain silent and wishing she had confided in Amelia about what Mr. Snyder had done. But Rose had hardly been able to think about his threats, let alone speak them out loud.

“Yes, I insist.” Mr. Snyder’s tone held no room for argument.

She directed a chilled gaze his way. Was there no end to the man’s petitions? Wasn’t it bad enough that he had threatened her family? That he now forced her to marry him? Despondency tugged her shoulders down as she envisioned a future consisting of Mr. Snyder’s iron rods of demands erected one by one around her until she was a prisoner to his every whim.

Her foot twitched. She wanted to kick him. She wanted to toss her hot tea in his face. Instead she smiled sweetly. “A gentleman never insists, sir.”

“More tea?” Aunt Muira took the china pot and poured more of the amber liquid into Mr. Snyder’s cup in an effort, Rose assumed, to alleviate the tension rising in the room.

He thanked her aunt with a tight smile.

“With Mr. Reed gone, who else will ask you?” Amelia gripped Rose’s hands.

Rose glared at her maid.

“Aye, perhaps you should go, Rose.” Uncle Forbes folded his hands over his rounded belly. “I am of the opinion that you’ll be glad you did.”

Rose swept a confused gaze toward him as perspiration formed on her neck. Her uncle had always seemed unimpressed by Mr. Snyder and had never encouraged a courtship between them. Was he now against Rose as well? Was everyone against her?

“It’s settled then.” The snake set down his cup. The clank echoed Rose’s doom through the parlor. He stood and brushed invisible dust from the sleeves of his coat. “The hour is late. I shall relieve you of my company.”

Relieve, indeed
. Rose smiled.

An uncharacteristic alarm rolled across her uncle’s face. “So soon, Mr. Snyder? Why you’ve barely been here a few hours.”

Rose clenched her jaw.
Please let him go, Uncle
.

“Indeed, but I have some urgent business which requires my
attention.” Mr. Snyder bowed. “I thank you for the lovely supper, Mrs. Drummond, Mr. Drummond. Mrs. Wilkins, always a pleasure.” He turned to Rose. “Would you do me the honor of seeing me out, Miss McGuire? I wish to speak to you.”

Uncle Forbes struggled to his feet with a groan. “Are you sure I cannot interest you in some pudding?” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Cora!”

“Dearest, what is wrong with you?” Aunt Muira rose and took her husband’s arm. “We have no pudding prepared, and Cora has retired.”

Mr. Snyder’s nose wrinkled. “I am quite all right, I assure you. Perhaps some other time.”

Yes, like when the oceans turn to mud
. Rose followed him into the foyer.

“Perhaps a sip of brandy then?” Uncle Forbes asked.

“No, thank you, sir.” Mr. Snyder turned toward Rose and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

“I really shouldn’t go outside in the night air.” She feigned a cough.

“Nonsense, dear, it’s only a few steps,” Aunt Muira scolded. “We’ll keep the door open for propriety.” She nudged Rose forward.

Retrieving his hat and cane from the coatrack, Mr. Snyder turned toward her uncle. “You really should hire another footman, sir.”

“I have every intention of doing so.” There was no mistaking the aversion in her uncle’s voice. Then why did he suggest she accompany Mr. Snyder to the ball?

Aunt Muira opened the door, and Mr. Snyder proffered his arm toward Rose. Ignoring him, she stepped onto the porch and swatted at a bug hovering around the lantern atop a post.

She wished she could swat Mr. Snyder away as easily. Instead she followed him down the path, feeling as though it was her heart crunching beneath his shoes instead of the gravel.

Halting at his horse, he leaned toward her. “You shouldn’t treat your future husband with such contempt. It may cause suspicion, my dear.”

“What do you expect, Mr. Snyder?”

“I expect you to comport yourself as a lady.”

The smell of the bergamot he splashed on his hair threatened to choke her. Withdrawing a handkerchief from her sleeve she pressed it over her moist neck and gazed above. A dark cloud drifted over the
sliver of a moon, stealing away its light. Just as Mr. Snyder had drifted into her life, stealing away her future.
Why God?
Rose lifted up her first prayer since Alex had left. Even now her anger forbade her to pray more.

Mr. Snyder untied the reins and faced her, sorrow clouding his features. “I hate to be so disagreeable, but you force my hand. You must attend the ball with me—to show our friends and family our devoted attachment before our engagement is announced.”

“And if I don’t?”

His eyes hardened, but the sorrow remained. “I think we both know what will happen.”

Rose sighed. “But if you expose my association with Mr. Reed and send me and my family to prison, then you will never marry me or get your hands on my property. Why risk it for a silly ball?”

He gazed at her as if for the first time he realized she actually possessed a mind underneath her golden tresses. “Indeed. Why risk it for a silly ball, Miss McGuire?” He tugged on his riding gloves then slid his cane though a loop on his saddle.

She narrowed her eyes. “So I am to attend the ball and play the part of your devoted admirer, is that it?”

“Precisely.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek, and she stepped back, her stomach tightening.

“And what do I get in return?” Rose asked.

Agony pierced the hard sheen covering his eyes. “I know you are angry with me, Rose. But in time I hope you will forgive me. I can make you happy if you’ll but give me a chance.” He lifted his hand toward her again, but she stepped out of his reach. Frowning, he donned his hat and swung onto his horse. “And maybe someday you will come to love me.”

Instead of answering, Rose gazed, benumbed, into the darkness that extended into an unforeseen oblivion.

“Until the ball, my dear.” Mr. Snyder kicked the horse and sped off down the trail.

Dust showered over Rose, but she couldn’t move. She hugged herself, willing her tears back behind her eyes. Young Daniel had said she had a destiny.

What he hadn’t said was that her destiny was a fate worse than death.

CHAPTER 21

A
lex followed Noah down the streets of Baltimore. The last rays of sun slipped over the western horizon, luring shadows from the alleyways and darkened corners. A bawdy tune wafted on the breeze from the docks as lanterns atop posts lining the avenue remained as dark as the encroaching night. No need to give the British fleet a glowing target. A wise decision on the part of General Smith.

Behind Alex, Mr. Heaton’s boots thudded over the sandy lane. The men said not a word to one another. A bell rang in the distance, accompanied by the lap of waves coming from the harbor a mile away. They passed a row of shops all closed for the day: cobbler, chandler, millinery, ironworks, and a bakery. Their engraved wooden signs swung in the breeze from iron hooks above their doors. A carriage rumbled by, its occupants chattering happily. Down the street, a man shouted for his son to come inside. A night watchman, armed with musket and sword, strode by them and tipped his hat. “Good evening, Mr. Brenin. Mr. Heaton.” His eyes grazed over Alex in passing as Noah returned the greeting.

They turned the corner onto Howard Street. The smell of horse manure, salt, and tar from a distant shipyard stung Alex’s nose. Tension pricked the air and clawed down his back.