Chuckling, Thomas squinted up at the sky. “I’ll stand guard.”
“I shall have a replacement for you by noon.” Nathaniel smiled and smacked his friend on the back as he left, but the merriment that inched upward quickly receded. A cloud, as grey as the ones overhead, darkened his spirit with every step. Those munitions were vital. Without them they couldn’t ensure the safety of their families against the time the British would surely fall upon them.
And that time was coming.
“Nathaniel,” Thomas called.
He stopped and turned.
“We will see you this evening at Andrew Cooper’s?”
Nathaniel nodded. “He’s asked me to give a political speech and you know how I crave such attention.” He took a few steps backward, that refreshing merriment trickling over his back. “This gathering will no doubt attract the patriotic women in town as well, and where beautiful ladies are present, there shall you find me.”
Before Thomas could continue the conversation that might lead to avenues Nathaniel wished not to discuss, he waved over his shoulder and marched toward Roger’s home. ‘Twas then, unbidden, words spoken several days past echoed in Nathaniel’s mind, as they had from the moment Thomas had voiced them. One day, Nathaniel, you will find yourself in the presence of a woman that robs you of all your senses, leaving you tongue tied and acting more a buffoon than a gentleman.
Nathaniel chuckled to himself and switched his medical bag to the other hand. If he hadn’t felt that way about a woman thus far, the possibility of such a thing occurring now was more than remote. Better to enjoy the smiles and flirtations than steady his attentions on finding a wife.
As he made his way down the muddy street, the reality of the morning’s discovery socked him in the gut, thankfully smacking him away from his thought’s unwanted wanderings. What was he thinking attending a political meeting on the same day the magazine had been raided? There were more important things to do than eat cakes and drink wine. Then again, he could use the affair at Andrew’s, and his speech, to focus his energies on rallying the people and finding men to guard the magazine. He humphed. Better to go and make the most of it.
The rain continued to pour, making its way through Nathaniel’s coat and seeping into his shirt and waistcoat. He picked up his pace. His responsibilities as Chairman occupied more energy and brainpower with every day that passed. Even though he wished to spend most of his time caring for his patients, independence was far more crucial. Their lives changed day by day thanks to Parliament and the “high and mighty” King George. He looked down at the dark mud that clung to his boots. This robbery and Caleb’s attack brought to light the very fears that forced him to pace his parlor floor night after night. This was no longer a vague, untouchable enemy. This threat was real, tangible and right at their doors.
Nathaniel halted, his muscles tensing as he stared into the rain.
Someone wanted to rob them of their liberties.
He would find out who. And he would stop them.
***
Cyprian Wythe stood by the window in the office of his detested establishment, parting the curtain just enough to allow him a fair view of Nathaniel Smith as he walked from the magazine toward town. Cyprian swallowed. The rain drummed against the window, driving the emptiness deeper.
He ran a hand over his unshaven jaw, the shivers from this morning’s encounter still shooting down his spine. He hadn’t meant for anything to happen to the boy, it simply had. How did the British expect an untrained man to do the job of a mercenary? What were he and Andrew supposed to do? They hadn’t expected anyone to be there and they needed that powder.
“Your mission is to secure their munitions secretly over time—not bring attention to it by attacking their guard—let alone a young boy!”
The memory of Captain Donaldson’s heated tone burned his ears anew.
Cyprian dropped the curtain and slumped at his desk in the room above the tavern. He snatched the quill from its dock and twirled it in his fingers, trying to ignore Donaldson’s warnings.
“This command comes from Major Stockton. If you fail to fulfill his requests then I will be forced to find another man for the job.”
Another man for the job?
He lunged from his chair and pounded his fist against the desk, jostling the newly acquired bag of coins Donaldson had tossed at him in anger. The tinkling sound made him clench his teeth until they nearly cracked. Holding his arms rigid on the edge of the wood, he lowered his head.
Camilla needed him. The weakness of her smile and the gray around her eyes haunted his mind like a tortured ghost. A man shouldn’t lose his wife like this—not so soon. The money the British paid him for this job would cover the cost of his debts and the medicines that kept her alive. With a snarl, Cyprian looked up. He didn’t need that wicked patriot doctor to care for his beloved. He could buy the opium from any source he wished. It kept her heart beating and dulled the heedless pain.
The weight on his shoulders seemed as heavy as the solid oak underneath his fists. He shoved away from the desk and went again to the window, staring past the sheets of rain that watered the earth.
Beyond the deluge, the resulting puddles and mist, the magazine taunted him.
He reserved a quiet chuckle and whispered. “We shall meet again, my friend. Depend upon it.”
Chapter Two
The surrounding quiet in the Watson home mingled with the mumbled voices of Eliza and Thomas, seeping not only into Kitty’s bedchamber upstairs, but into her spirit as well, chasing away the bitter loneliness she’d borne for more than a year. The sweet scent of lavender-water curled upward as she stared into the mirror atop the table beside where she sat. She smiled at her reflection, recalling the joy on her sister’s face when she’d opened the door and found Kitty smiling back at her. Thomas, too, once he’d returned from town, had burst into jubilant laughter. They’d welcomed her with a warmth Kitty could never have imagined, but should have expected.
She closed her eyes as a melancholy rolled o