Take My Heart (Heroic Rogues Series) (24 page)

“You can be certain of that. Tactfully, of course.”

“But of course.”

The office door opened as Brandon Kennedy entered, a gust of wind blowing in a few leaves under his feet. He seemed more chipper today as he sauntered over to his desk, shrugging off his overcoat.

“Good morning, Kennedy,” William greeted.

Brandon turned and nodded. “William. Gabe.” He whistled as he walked to the rack and hung his coat. “Top of the morning, is it not?”

William threw Gabe a wary glance. “Yes it is, Kennedy. You look rather cheerful today.”

Brandon walked back to his desk, his grin widening with each step. “The fact is, I am extremely happy, and so will you be when I tell you the good news.”

“Good news?” William limped away from the window.

“Yes. I have gotten word that the soldiers have captured another spy.”

A sinking sensation stirred in William’s heart. “Another spy?”

“Mr. Hoskins, the old gentleman who owns the farm down at the end of Cherry Lane, has been arrested. Rumor has it that quite a bit of activity has been going on, and last night Captain Wilkes arrested Mr. Hoskins. Apparently, he had been writing correspondence to the Sons of Liberty.”

William’s hands clenched into fists by his side, and he quickly hid them behind his back so Kennedy wouldn’t see. His mind swam with ideas of how to get Hoskins released. They had to. The old man couldn’t stay in jail. He had a family to support.

“Then a point is in Britain’s favor,” William said with calm finesse.

“God save the King.” Gabe slapped his hand on the desk.

Kennedy beamed, his eyes lighting with a spark of fire. “Before too long, they will find every last one of those spies.”

William limped closer to Brandon. “Do you think Hoskins is the unknown author that has Philadelphia in an uproar lately?”

Brandon shrugged. “Personally, I do not believe he is. Mainly because this last letter leads me to believe the author is a woman—who has recently lived in England.” He shook his head. “I cannot understand why people are complaining. Especially her. Britain gives them almost too much freedom. Legs shackled, vision blinded...utter rubbish, I say. I cannot wait to put to rest all of this talk of freedom, when they have had it all along.”

William nodded. “Couldn’t agree with you more.” Tapping his fingers on the desktop, Brandon tilted his head. He locked gazes with William. “Come to think of it, your wife was born and raised in England. Correct?”

William’s heart jumped to his throat, panic flowed through him and he tried to keep his expression blank. “Yes. But what does she have to do with this matter?”

“I am just pointing out the coincidence.”

Forcing a laugh, William moved back to his desk. “And Lady Burwell has also recently come from England. What of it?”

“Lady Burwell’s husband is a colonel in the army.”

William snapped his head around and glared at his obtuse partner. “Mrs. Braxton’s husband designs ships for the King. What is the difference?”

The tower clock by the courthouse chimed the tenth morning hour. Gabe stood and cupped William’s shoulder. The movement slightly relieved his anger.

“Well,” Gabe said, “that is my signal to get to work. I need to run errands for my boss’ wife. If I am not back shortly, she will dismiss me.”

William gave him a nod. “Let me know if she gets tough on you. I have a personal relationship with that mean Mrs. Braxton.” He winked.

Gabe laughed as he left the office. William hoped his humor would cover the panic over the past few minutes.

“Braxton? I see your leg is healing nicely.”

William glanced at Kennedy. “Yes, thanks to my wife’s loving care.”

The other man chuckled as he picked up some contracts and shuffled through them. “I never thought I would hear you say that about Kat.”

“I would have to agree with you.”

Brandon threw him a look over his shoulder. “I suppose you have forgiven her for her unfaithfulness since you exchanged vows?”

William clenched his jaw and fought the urge to use his fists to vent his frustration. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Brandon, indeed. This is no kind of talk for two gentlemen.”

Brandon shrugged. “I thought to make conversation.”

“And I am uncomfortable speaking about this, if you do not mind.”

“I fully understand.” Brandon’s grin turned mocking. “I, too, would be quite embarrassed if I had a wife like yours.”

Exhaling deeply, William turned away from Kennedy and looked at the papers scattered on his desk. Several drawings needed to be finished by the end of the week, and he really didn’t have the patience to talk nonsense with his partner. He’d rather punch the man in the nose and cause him excruciating pain.

“But I have to add how impressed I am that Kat changed her ways,” Kennedy added.

William tightened his grip on his drawing pen. The quill snapped in two. “Would you cease this ridiculous discussion?”

“I am only trying to point out—”

“Enough!” William pushed away from the desk, knocking over his chair in the process. He glared at Brandon. “If you will excuse me, I have errands to run.”

He grabbed his long black cape and hobbled out of the office. The wind hit his face and he squinted through the flying debris of dirt and leaves as he crossed the street. A crowd of soldiers gathered outside the nearest tavern, raising their cups in a toast. Their boisterous laughter gnawed on William’s nerves.

As he passed, he reminded himself, once again, how unfair life could be. Poor Mr. Hoskins, a faithful patriot just trying to do the right thing in his fight for freedom. And Mercedes being accused because she’d lived in England.

Down the street toward one of the several inns in town, a familiar figure caught his eye. Blinking against the blasting wind, he noticed a woman walk in front of Captain Wilkes as they entered the building. The back of her green cloak looked familiar, and he rubbed his eyes to focus better. By the time he looked up again, the couple had disappeared.

His heart hammered against his ribs and the palms of his hands sweat. The woman with Captain Wilkes wasn’t whom he’d thought. Mercedes wasn’t like the woman he’d married. Although he still didn’t know for certain who she really was, the woman he loved wouldn’t dally with other men. Mercedes loved him as much as he loved her.

Didn’t she?

Hurrying into the bank, he calmed his fears, telling himself he hadn’t seen Mercedes with Captain Wilkes. That must be his insecurities playing games with his mind.

He turned and greeted the bank clerk and requested a large sum of money to be withdrawn from his account. It was time he purchased a wedding ring for his wife – the woman he never thought he could love so much. He wouldn’t put off giving her this gift any longer.

He signed his name, and with the money in an envelope safely tucked into his vest pocket, he turned to leave. Thomas Paine entered the bank and met him at the door. After brushing the leaves from his overcoat, Thomas greeted William with a hearty handshake.

“Good day, Braxton.” Thomas smiled. “
’Tis
a pleasure to see you on this foul morning.”

“The weather does not cater to our needs, that is for certain.” William glanced at the bank clerk who’d busied himself with another customer. Taking a step closer to Thomas, he whispered, “Did you hear about Mr. Hoskins?”

Thomas nodded. “Inform as many men as you can that we will need an emergency meeting.”

“When?”

“Tonight. Eleven o’clock.”

William nodded, then straightened. He clapped his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “Good to see you, again. Give the wife my respect.”

“And you do the same for your charming wife.” William stepped out of the bank, thinking over what excuse he would tell Mercedes tonight. She wouldn’t understand. Lying to her was the best choice right now. He hated to do it, but Hoskins and his family needed help as soon as possible.

* * * *

Mercedes stepped outside onto the back porch and the wind blew against her face. The children were in the nursery. This afternoon, she needed time for herself yet the more she thought about her problems, the more worried she became.

With a heavy ache in her chest, she walked toward the stable. The maid, Beth, informed Mercedes of the conversation the servant had eavesdropped on. The Sons of Liberty were meeting tonight down at the end of
Honeybrook
Lane in the old abandoned cottage. A secret meeting, Beth had said.

Anxiety hammered through Mercedes. She wondered if William would tell her. He hadn’t yet, and that’s what worried her. Doubts filled her mind and she groaned. Although she loved him with all her heart, she didn’t think he trusted her. Trust had always been harder to achieve with him. Obviously, William didn’t believe in her enough to tell her of the secret meeting.

Although she had a hard time understanding why William did this, it was his character to stand for what he believed in. But her love for him was stronger. She wanted him, his children, and the wonderful life she’d experienced so far.

Stopping inside the stable doors, she glanced at her favorite horse, Thunder. The black gelding neighed, bobbing his head in greeting. She smiled and walked to him, picking an apple out of the bucket by the door.

The animal acted more than happy to get the food, and as he munched noisily, she stroked his mane. She’d always enjoyed being with horses, but right now worry for William overrode all else. What if William was caught? She couldn’t bear the heartache of seeing him hanged for treason.

The sound of scraping wood echoed through the stable. She stopped. Listened. But didn’t hear it again. “Is anyone there?”

Thunder neighed and shuffled his feet. She stepped away from him, further into the room and listened. Her skin prickled with fear, unease running down her spine, a feeling somebody watched her.

“Is anyone here?”

Still no sound.

Shaking her head, she turned back to Thunder. Why had she experienced a cold chill as if someone watched her every move? She chuckled and stroked the horse’s mane. Must be her imagination.

“’
Mornin
’,
Miz
Braxton.”

She jumped and turned toward Hyrum, one of the stable boys, as he walked through the wide-opened doors. Seeing a familiar face, she sighed. “Good morning, Hyrum. How are you faring today?”

“Jus’ fine,
Miz
Braxton.” He picked up a brush and carried it over to her. “Thought
ya
might like this.”

She smiled, taking the brush from him. “Thank you. You seem to know what I want before I can speak it.”

He grinned, ear-to-ear, nearly displaying all of his teeth. “Did
ya
need me to have
yer
horse ready
t’nite
?”

She scrunched her forehead. “Why would I want that?”

He stepped closer then peeked over his shoulder as he looked around the stable. Her heart picked up rhythm. Why did he look so secretive?

“Jus’ in case
ya
want to follow
yer
husband, like
ya
usually does when
ya
spy on him.”

Mercedes’ breath caught in her throat. “S…spy on my husband, Hyrum?” She turned to brush Thunder’s mane.

“Waal,
ya
haven’t done it for a while, and I thought that’s why
ya
was here.”

She tightened her hand around the brush in mid-stroke.
Spy on my husband.
Her heartbeat accelerated. Yes, she could spy on her husband. How else would she feel the same enthusiasm about the cause like he does?

“And what else will you help me with?”

“Jus’ like always, I’ll have the servant’s clothes in the empty stall for
ya
to change into.”

She smiled. “You have done well, Hyrum. Remind me how much I owe you.”

Red stained his cheeks before he ducked his head and kicked the dirt with his foot. “Shucks,
Miz
Braxton.
Ya
don’t owe me
nutin
’. I likes
helpin
’
ya
all I can, and I ‘specially likes it when
ya
teach me about
workin
’ in the stables. I’m
learnin
’ more ‘n more every day.”

A heavy sigh escaped her. “Well, Hyrum, you help me, and I will help you.”

“
Yassum
, I ‘no.”

“Hyrum, will you have my horse ready tonight for me?”

He grinned. “
Yassum
,
Miz
Braxton.”

Hyrum turned and walked out of the stable, his head held high as if he’d won the game. She smiled. The idea of sneaking off to spy on her husband tonight sent her heart beating fiercely against her ribs.

* * * *

William scratched his chin. His wife had been suspiciously quiet tonight at the evening meal. She’d conversed with the children, but every time she looked his way, her eyes clouded with something he couldn’t pinpoint. Certainly not desire. He’d seen that enough lately to recognize it. If he could put a name to that expression, he’d call it
distrust.