The rain suddenly fell as if God himself had tipped the very skies on end. What few shoppers remained on the quiet road now scurried to the nearest shops, papers or cloaks shielding their heads as a downpour deluged the streets. Paul continued on, the weight of the rain dragging at both his greatcoat and his spirit.
A hurried footstep from behind made him turn and he stepped aside as another townswoman raced for the shelter of the shops, clutching a basket with one hand and clinging to the hood of her cloak with the other.
That face…He squinted, needing little more than a second before his memory splayed open.
“Miss!” he called, jogging toward her across the road. “Miss Whitehead.”
She looked behind but continued on until she’d reached the protection of the roof in front of the print shop.
“Miss Whitehead!”
“Sir?” She paused, her hand on the door handle, lips pulled in a tight line.
Either the question in her raised brow was a ruse, or she was more a simpleton than he thought.
He bowed slightly. “Miss Whitehead, I fear you do not remember me.”
Her mouth dropped open with a quiet gasp. “Forgive me, I—”
“Please.” He patted the air, a small smile pasted to his lips. So she had forgotten. He calmed the sudden spike in frustration at the sight of her with a slow deep inhale, keeping every other emotion but friendly concern from the edges of his grin. “’Tis I who must seek your forgiveness. I had not heard from you and began to worry for your safety. How selfish of me to ask you to venture out on your own in search of a man you had never met. I do hope you are well.” He stopped, rethinking the forthcoming statement, but it slipped from his tongue before he could chew on it longer. “Finding you here is quite a surprise.”
Quite a surprise indeed.
~~~
Anna’s teeth locked tight. What was this man doing here? Why was he not in uniform? Had he worried over her to such an extent that he came in search of her? She stared, scrambling to find an excuse to escape the forthcoming conversation without answering the pointed questions, but his pleading eyes stabbed through the bewildered exterior she flung to her defense.
“Sir, I thank you for your concern.” She gestured to the door. “I am well, I assure you. But if you will excuse me, I really must be—”
“Of course, I do not wish to detain you.” His smile warmed, melting the prick of ice in his eyes. “But, pray tell me, did you make it to Providence? Have you any word regarding Captain Martin and the man who knew him?”
Samuel.
The rain that before had only chilled her skin now seeped deeper, and the tears that had burned her eyes as she’d stormed from the house now pricked like needles of a hundred buried hurts. Her departed brother she had risked everything for, the search for answers, all but abandoned. She swallowed and looked up at the man before her. Patience hovered in his pale blue eyes. A memory flashed and suddenly the rich blue of William’s gaze arrested her—and the way he’d commanded her as if she were a mere possession, something to be used instead of treasured. Was that his true estimation of her? An admonition whispered from the clouds that lined the sky. He wishes only to protect, nothing more. Her throat ached and her gaze dropped like the rain that continued to cry from the heavens. Did he?
“Miss?” The man’s tender petition lifted her face and he continued. “I hope no ill has befallen you.”
She opened her mouth to answer when a hand from an unseen being clamped around her lips. Do not tell anyone of me. William’s warning blared in her ears and echoed in her heart. But why not tell this man what had brought her to this place? He deserved an explanation, did he not?
“Aye, forgive me. I am well.” She straightened, stepping from the grasp that imprisoned her words. “I had made it nearly half way when the driver of my carriage tried to force me away with him.” A shiver trailed down her back and she snapped her mouth closed. Could this man now be in service of her father? His reaches were like ever-growing vines, forever snaking about to strangle her. If she told more, her identity might be known…
His shoulders pulled back. “How did you escape him?”
“I…” Again, she tried to speak, but the words crowded in her throat as if God refused them utterance. She glanced toward the road as an inky shadow crept like smoke through her spirit. Do not tell anyone of me.
Her breath quickened and the unease that billowed refused to be abated by the unwavering kindness in his eyes. Pulling the basket closer to her middle, she cleared her throat. “A family found me—rescued me in fact—and insisted I join them here. Since I had no other family, I was grateful to them, and accepted their offer.” Not entirely untrue. The Watson’s and Smith’s had welcomed her, and in a way, had insisted she stay, had they not?
“Is that so?” His chin raised slightly as one eyebrow swooped low. “You no longer wish to discover what happened to Captain Martin?”
Anna swallowed and licked her lips. “I shall always wish to find that truth.”
“Then you would still wish to find the man who knew him?”
She squirmed in her stays. “Certainly. But I fear there is little chance of that now.”
“I have not given up hope.” His mouth quirked before he straightened once more and relaxed his stance as if he’d changed his line of thought. “I must say…I mean, I don’t know if you’ve heard. There is a woman who has been kidnapped—forced away from her father by a man of devious character.”
Dear Lord…