A Lady to Lead (Sisters of the Revolution Book 2)

by Audrey Glenn

  “Perhaps,” Helen replied. She needed to smuggle out more plates without anyone noticing.

  Cassandra was wrong. Look at how well sales had gone! Eight whole tarts sold to paying customers. She would just have to find a way to avoid Winthrop, and they would have the money in no time.

  She’d also have to find a way to avoid Captain Carter. He always managed to leave her confused and unable to focus. She’d planned to repay his investment a little at a time, but perhaps she could pay him sooner and be done with the whole arrangement. After that, the money they raised would all go to paying off the indenture and she would feel comfortable again, without his interference.

  Nathaniel walked around the city, trying to think of who he could ask to stand at the docks the night of the smuggling operation. The sky was gray, indicating the season’s first snow would soon fall.

  “Good afternoon,” someone called, drawing his attention from the weather. Nathaniel looked up to see David approaching and realized he’d ended up right outside the city market.

  Nathaniel bowed to David. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m under assignment from Cassandra to buy up the rest of Helen’s tarts for the day. She worries it’s far too cold to leave her sister outside until dark.”

  “Are the tarts selling well, then?” Nathaniel asked, not that he cared other than to ensure his investment was repaid.

  “I suppose, though I’ll be heartily glad to never see a gooseberry tart again so long as I live. Helen always makes far too many because she’s scared of running out.” David patted his stomach. “I’ll have to take to lacing myself.”

  Nathaniel chuckled. “She’s very determined to succeed.”

  “Oh, yes. She’s awake at all hours making tarts, and she insists upon coming personally to sell on every market day. Cassandra’s been beside herself with worry that Helen will make herself sick.”

  Nathaniel was begrudgingly impressed. “She must feel very strongly about this.” He was just as dedicated to his work, and he’d known many men who didn’t work half as hard.

  “Helen and Cassandra were very nearly sold into indenture by an unscrupulous captain when they arrived in Philadelphia. Helen takes it very personally.”

  The two men watched Helen and her companion from a distance. They didn’t appear to have any customers at the moment. Euphemia Goodwin was talking animatedly while Helen rearranged the tarts laid out before them.

  “Perhaps she should continue on in business after they raise the sum they need,” Nathaniel suggested.

  David snorted. “She’ll have to expand her offerings. I believe the city has been emptied of gooseberry jam. Say — what brings you here? Have you been watching over her?”

  “What? No. I’m just mulling over a problem with the shipment.” Nathaniel lowered his voice. “The group I hired wants me to travel up the river in the boats and they want another of my men to meet them at the docks. They believe this will prevent me from being careless and talking about the plan.”

  “Who will you choose?”

  “I don’t know. Most of my ‘men’ are day-laborers I hire to move my cargo. I can’t be certain they wouldn’t sell me out to Morley.”

  “When do you mean to do it?” David asked, still watching Helen.

  “Next Friday.”

  “Ah, the governor’s ball.”

  “Precisely — the one night he should be looking the other direction.”

  “Have you any friends you could ask?”

  Nathaniel shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really, but I’ll find someone.”

  David put a hand on his shoulder. “You can count on me. I’ll be there at the docks.”

  Nathaniel took a step back. “You won’t try to talk me out of this?”

  “No, you’re determined to go forward, and I’m determined to buy a larger house for my growing family with all the money you’ll earn for me.”

  “Thank you. I —” Nathaniel struggled to tell David how much it meant to him to have someone he could depend on.

  “What the devil?” David stalked off suddenly towards Helen and Euphemia. Nathaniel followed quickly behind.

  Winthrop Morley stood in front of the stall with his hand out while Helen counted out coins. She wasn’t happy.

  “What’s going on here?” David demanded.

  Winthrop simpered. “I’m collecting a sales tax.”

  “There’s no sales tax collected at market, only a tariff upon goods entering the city,” Nathaniel retorted.

  “New ordinance. Applies to new businesses.”

  “This is hardly a business!” David exclaimed. “This is a group of young ladies selling pies for charity!”

  “Tarts,” Helen muttered. She stood behind the table with her arms crossed while Euphemia looked on with wide eyes.

  “Do you collect this tax of all the stalls?” Nathaniel challenged.

  “New businesses, yes. Well, good day! I’ll be back tomorrow.” Winthrop turned to go but David seized him by the shoulder and spun him around. A few people shopping nearby edged a little closer to the two men. The baker who owned the stall leaned forward, not even pretending he wasn’t paying attention to every word.

  “This will not stand!” David insisted. “I’ve not heard of any such ordinance being posted. You outstrip your authority this time.”

  Winthrop brushed David off. “I think you’ll find I do not. Take it up with the magistrate if you must, though I warn you — he’s a great friend of my father’s. I know I’ll certainly speak to him if you lay a hand on me again.”

  “No need to wait! Name your second,” David demanded. Nathaniel caught his breath. Would Winthrop accept that deadly challenge?

  Winthrop laughed. “I won’t even deign to answer that.” He turned and walked away.

  “Because he knows I never miss at a hundred paces!” David called out, fuming.

  “How dare you?” Helen hissed. “You’ve drawn a crowd and you’ll frighten away all our customers.”

  David glared at the onlookers, and the handful of people who had stopped turned back to their business. The baker spat and shook his head before returning to stuffing unsold bread into a sack.

  “How long has this been going on?” David demanded.

  Helen’s shoulders drooped. “Every day. I told Cassandra all about it after the first time.”

  “She mentioned a tax, but I never dreamed he was harassing you like this. That villainous, lecherous —”

  “Stop!” Helen hissed. Euphemia leaned in as if she wanted to hear more.

  “My father won’t allow me to accept even an offer to dance with him. He tried to court me last year, but it was only because I’m a great heiress,” Euphemia confided. “What does ‘lecherous’ mean?”

  Helen met Nathaniel’s eyes for the first time. “Just that he’s like a leach,” Helen lied. “Well, we’ll sell no more today. Help me gather up these tarts, Euphemia.”

  “Wait a moment,” David said, forcing himself to turn away from Winthrop’s retreating form. “I’m sent to purchase a tart for dinner, and I’m certain Nathaniel also wishes to buy.”

  “You’re certain?” Helen’s voice was tight. “I’m not. Nathaniel doesn’t care for my cooking.”

  Nathaniel didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t intended to offend her when he admitted he didn’t often eat sweet foods. Without speaking he reached into his coat pocket for his coin purse. He counted out two pence, placed them on the table, and turned to go.

  “Wait,” David called after him, but Nathaniel kept walking. David jogged to catch up to him. “What was that all about?”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “She hates me, though I can’t understand why.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. You’ve offended her somehow.”

  “What?”

  David nodded sagely. “I’ve seen it before in women. What did you say about her pie?”

  “Tart,” Nathaniel corrected automatically. “I told her the truth; I don’t mu
ch care for desserts, but I gave her the value of the slice as a donation.”

  David groaned. “You really have no idea how to talk to ladies, do you? You rejected what she made. She’s been wounded!”

  “I’m not sure I follow. She’s there to make money. I gave her money. What’s there to be angry about?”

  David laid a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder in a paternal way that was amusing coming from a man near his own age. “Let me explain it like this. Imagine you made her a gift of tea you imported and she said she didn’t like the taste.”

  Was this supposed to be a riddle? “I’d examine the product carefully for defects and seek a refund from my supplier if I found anything amiss.”

  David groaned. “You’re hopeless. She has feelings invested! She’s spent time and effort making the product. I don’t much care for gooseberries, but I knew enough to compliment her even though I was made to consume three whole tarts by myself!”

  “So you’re saying I should try the tart and pretend to like it?” Nathaniel clarified.

  “Exactly.” David beamed at him with a parental sort of pride.

  Nathaniel turned to walk back to the stall, but David stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Not right this moment. It’s better to wait until they’re calm. This can take days.”

  None of it made much sense to Nathaniel. “Perhaps you should write a book.”

  “Not a bad idea. I could share everything I’ve learned.” David stroked his chin.

  Nathaniel wished him a good day and returned to his warehouse. He needed to get in touch with Matlack and let him know he’d found a man for the docks.

  He was touched by David’s offer. He’d always considered David as a business partner, but the man was acting as a true friend to him.

  Should he allow a man with a family to put himself at risk? If he was caught helping, David could also lose everything he owned. Helen would certainly blame Nathaniel if that happened.

  Despite what David said, Nathaniel was unconvinced Helen would ever warm to him, though she seemed to do so a little that night at the concert. He’d even been moved to make her a present of a notebook to keep accounts in, and she’d seemed happy to accept. Still, nothing else he did pleased her, no matter how hard he tried.

  Hot one moment and cold the next. Perhaps David was right that he’d offended her — possibly from the first time they met? Why did she preoccupy his thoughts so? He could at least try to make amends.

  Nathaniel rubbed his face and noticed the cuff of one sleeve was starting to unravel. He would have to mend it. His boots needed cleaning as well. He should find a boy to attend to them. All this, and find a place to hide the tea. He groaned and set off for his office.

  Nathaniel threw down his shovel and slid to the floor of his warehouse. He’d spent days searching the city but couldn’t find a suitable location to store the tea. Half the places he’d checked were too far from the docks, and the others were too public.

  He’d have to use his own warehouse, but he needed a cellar to hide the tea in case the governor came around. Digging was long, hard work, but he couldn’t hire someone who might betray him to the governor for a coin. Nathaniel knew better than to ask David to help with manual labor.

  He’d ignored his growling stomach, having worked long past the time he would normally pause for dinner. He knew he had to stop when his body started shaking from fatigue. He shrugged back into his coat and tramped through fallen snow to the tavern nearest his warehouse.

  The owner of the tavern raised a hand in greeting and brought him a bowl of food. Lamb stew was not Nathaniel’s favorite dish, but he forced himself to choke it down.

  Nathaniel glanced around the tavern. There was only one other man sitting by himself. The loner shoveled food into his mouth, never looking up or smiling. Nathaniel hoped he wouldn’t end up like that.

  David was probably spending the day sitting in front of a large fire, laughing with his pretty wife. Nathaniel could almost imagine it, though he’d not had much experience with family life.

  His own father, a wheelwright, had been killed when a cart he was repairing fell on him. He had lived a few weeks after the accident with a putrid wound that never got better. Nathaniel had been only seven. The very next week after his father died, his mother sent him to live with his uncle, a ship’s captain, and married a widower with seven children.

  She wrote to him a few times admonishing him to be a God-fearing man, which he’d always tried to do. He’d visited her but felt like a stranger in another man’s home. He hadn’t learned about families from his uncle, who had never married, nor the men he’d sailed with, who didn’t much prize monogamy.

  Would he be happier with a wife? He never wanted companionship before, but now he thought it would be nice to have someone to return home to at night. Someone he could discuss his work with.

  He didn’t want someone vapid like Euphemia Goodwin. But then, what woman would have him? He lived in a one-room apartment above a cobbler’s shop. He owned a total of two coats, both dull black. He was apparently hopeless at conversing with the entire sex. He could move or buy a new coat, but he doubted he would ever understand women.

  Why did Helen’s face appear in his mind?

  He didn’t have time to consider this. He pushed away from the table and headed back to work.

  Helen emerged from her room with four pounds wrapped in a letter informing its recipient that her business with him was concluded. She would ask David to accompany her to Nathaniel’s warehouse and then slip the note under his door. After that, he would have no reason to come to her stall ever again, and her mind would have no cause to dwell on him continually.

  The sound of voices reached her ears before she entered the drawing room. She peered into the room to find Cassandra sitting perched on David’s knee while they laughed over something. David had his hand on Cassandra’s stomach.

  “Do you feel that?” Cassandra asked.

  David grinned. “My son!”

  “Daughter,” Cassandra insisted.

  Helen stepped back quickly. She didn’t want to intrude.

  A quick rummage through the papers on David’s desk revealed Nathaniel’s address. She’d go by herself and return before anyone missed her. The snow had ceased falling and been cleared off the streets, and it would take less than an hour to make the trip and return home again.

  The image of David and Cassandra wouldn’t leave her mind. Her heart ached — not with jealousy, but with longing for a companion. She was merely a hanger-on in David’s household, sister to his wife and soon-to-be aunt to his child. She didn’t think David or Cassandra resented her presence, but likely they would appreciate a chance to live without another adult always lurking about.

  She’d had the vague notion that she ought to seek out a husband, only no one had presented himself that she could fathom living with for years on end. In appearance, she could admit that Nathaniel represented everything she found pleasing. Well-built, even-featured — and the way he seemed so still but so aware at the same time. Of course, he obviously didn’t think of her in that way at all.

  She reached his door and slid the square of paper underneath. The moment she straightened herself up, the door swung open.

  Nathaniel stood in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “I was just leaving that for you,” Helen stammered.

  Nathaniel stooped to pick up the paper, and Helen saw an assortment of picks and shovels leaned up against the wall behind him.” Are you digging something?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  Nathaniel glanced at the street behind her. “No, just —”

  She knew when she wasn’t wanted. “I see. Good day.”

  “Wait — come in for a moment.” Nathaniel stepped back to let her inside.

  Helen considered him for a moment, unsure if she wanted to comply. Perhaps it was only Christian of her to allow him the chance to apologize.

  Nathaniel looked up and down the street once more as
he closed the door behind him. Helen shivered. The dark room was colder than the street, the only light coming from a lantern stacked on a barrel.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed that several floorboards were pried up, and there appeared to be a very deep hole in the ground beneath them.

  She took a step closer, then stopped herself.

  “It’s all right.” Nathaniel motioned for her to continue.

  She peered down into the black hole then turned back to Nathaniel. “Am I allowed to inquire what you are doing?”

  Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure how much David has spoken of the Tea Act . . . .”

  “I’ve read about it myself in the newspaper.” Helen couldn’t keep a note of irritation from her voice. Did he think her a complete simpleton who had to have the news explained to her?

  Nathaniel lowered his eyes. “Of course you’ve read the paper.”

  “Is the Tea Act injurious to your business?” she prompted, now grudgingly curious.

  “Yes. Well — not precisely. In the past the governor turned a blind eye to smuggled tea, but the Tea Act now allows the East India Company to sell legal English tea without paying any tariffs in London. The governor has been promised a cut of their profits and desires to ensure there is no competition.”

  “I gather you are in possession of illegal tea you are planning to hide in there.” She pointed towards the hole.

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Is that not dangerous? I believe the governor announced anyone caught smuggling will be stripped of all land and property.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “It might be a little dangerous.”

  Helen considered him — he didn’t appear at all apprehensive at the thought. “I suppose you stand to make a great deal of money?”

  “Yes, and David also.” Nathaniel learned against the barrel, careful not to bump his lantern.

  “David knows of this?”

  “He knows about the smuggling but not this cellar. Easier to keep it a secret.”