The girl beamed. “I would like nothing more, sir.”
“Very good.” Then he swiveled his face toward her. “Miss Lytton, fortuitous indeed to have you here. You work out of Fort Wilderness, do you not?”
Elias was right—the man was a master of information, especially to have taken notice of a backwoods, slipshod fort. “Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.” He leaned back in his chair, leather creaking an accompaniment to the movement. “There is a certain matter that has come to my attention recently that perhaps you can clear up.”
She pressed her lips flat to keep from frowning. What could she possibly know that would aid a major in Boston, especially since she’d not been on a scout for over a month?
He chuckled. “Oh, don’t look so worried, Miss Lytton. I have no doubt you are just the person to ask. Currently there’s a load of gold and three men being held at Fort Edward pending investigation. A native, a private, and the missing commander from Fort Wilderness. None of their stories correlate, and in fact all point the finger at each other for all manner of wrongdoing. Do you know anything about this?”
So, Elias’s Wyandot had gotten the scoundrels and the cargo all the way to the fort. Not that it would bring Matthew back, but at least the Braggs would pay for their treachery. It was a small consolation—but likely the only one she’d get.
“What I know, sir, is that Brigadier General Bragg and his son are scoundrels of the worst sort. Both deserve a court-martial and time in jail. Or worse.”
The major’s brows shot high. “That is a strong sentiment.”
“’Tis the truth. The general abandoned his post, conspired with his son to steal that load of gold, and plotted our deaths.” She glanced over her shoulder at Elias.
“Miss Lytton speaks true, sir,” he confirmed.
The major grunted. “As I said, fortuitous indeed that you are here. Will you write up a document swearing to all you know and have experienced, both of you?”
“We will, sir.” Her voice joined with Elias’s.
“Then they just might get the court-martial you so desire, Miss Lytton.” Major Clement pushed back his chair and stood. “For now, however, the hour grows late. I imagine the three of you might welcome beds to sleep on instead of the ground, am I right?”
Livvy’s blond head nodded. Mercy smiled. No doubt even Elias was grinning behind her.
Bypassing the desk, the major strode toward the door. “Dubois, I leave these ladies in your charge until three days hence, when we’ll reconvene here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Livvy shoved her hand into Mercy’s, and they both joined Elias’s side in crossing the room.
The major held open the door. “I shall see that your expenses for room and board are covered at the Stag’s Head Inn. Oh, and Dubois, make it a priority to provision yourselves with new clothing. Pardon my bluntness, ladies”—the major tucked his chin in mock repentance—“but those gowns have seen better days. Good night.”
A half smile tugged her lips. The man was judicious in his words. No wonder he held such a position of power.
They had hardly cleared the threshold and the door closed when behind her Elias muttered, “Blast!”
She turned, trying to read the frown on his face and falling far short of what it could mean. “How can you be anything but pleased? The Braggs will get what they deserve, and Livvy shall be returned to her father.”
“Aye, all is well save for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Elias quirked one eyebrow. “The provisioning…I’d rather run the gauntlet of a Wyandot initiation rite than go shopping.”
“Ah, but I believe, Mr. Dubois, that you promised me a new petticoat, did you not?”
A sheepish smile lifted one side of his mouth. “From now on, remind me to be careful what I promise you.”
Heat flushed her cheeks, and she turned her face from him. The only thing she really wanted him to promise was to spend the rest of his life at her side.
Mercy worked a pale green ribbon into Livvy’s blond hair, smiling with the memory of Elias in the dress shop. His face had matched the ribbon’s color that entire day he’d attended them from seamstress to milliner to shoe shop. But he’d had his revenge. The next day he’d escorted them to an afternoon tea, followed by a dinner and then a small spring soiree. She knew enough etiquette to survive the meals—thanks to her mother—but dancing had tangled her feet more thoroughly than a barefoot sprint over moss-covered rocks. If she listened hard, she’d likely still hear remnants of Elias’s laughter over her ridiculous attempts…until he’d taken her in hand and tutored her until her heart raced.
“Miss Mercy?” Livvy’s voice cut into her thoughts.
“Hmm?” She tied off the ribbon, and the girl turned to face her.
“I am surely going to miss you.” Livvy wrapped her arms around her waist.
Mercy hugged her back fiercely, certain she would always remember this brave young lady, so like herself and so not. “I shall miss you too, Livvy.”
She set the girl from her and bent, eye to eye. “But we shall never forget each other, shall we?”
Huge drops shimmered in Livvy’s eyes. “No, ma’am. Never.”
Tears threatened to choke her as well, and she swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “There is a word my people use, not a forever kind of goodbye, but one that means farewell for now. Would you like to learn it?”
Biting her lip, the girl nodded.
“Ó:nen ki› wáhi.” She drawled out the word.
“Oh-key…oh-no-key…” Livvy stuttered to a stop.
“Ó:nen ki› wáhi,” Mercy tried again.
“Oh…” The girl sucked in a big breath.
“Oh-nen key wah-he.”
Mercy grinned. “Very good. You’d make a fine—”
A rap on the door cut off her praise.
“Are you ladies ready?” Elias’s deep voice filtered through the wood.
Mercy held out her hand. Livvy entwined her fingers with hers—and squeezed. They had shared quite an adventure, from backwoods to Boston, and she’d be sad to see the girl leave today. Ó:nen ki› wáhi indeed. May they somehow meet again.
Together they crossed to the door, but when she swung it open, her hand fell limply away from Livvy’s, and it was a struggle to keep from gaping.
The man in the corridor was surely not Elias. This was a king, one who weakened her knees by the merit of his stature alone. A deep blue greatcoat rode the crest of his shoulders, with a caramel-colored waistcoat fitted snugly across his chest. An ivory cravat was tied neatly at his throat, set just above a row of pewter buttons. Buff breeches ran the length of his long legs, ending just below the knee at his off-white stockings. Shiny buckles glinted up from his black shoes.
But it wasn’t the clothes that stole her breath. Not the planes of his clean-shaven face, the full lips, or the brown hair combed back into a queue and secured by a plain black ribbon. It wasn’t even his scent of sandalwood soap with a leftover hint of his trademark smoky smell.
It was his eyes. Only and entirely his stunning blue gaze. The look of unashamed wonder and awe as he studied her ignited a fire that simmered hot and low.
“Elias?”
“Mercy?”
Their whispers mingled in unison, making them one.
Livvy tugged her sleeve. “We’ll be late.”
Elias cleared his throat, giving his head a little shake. “Of course.” Then he held out both his arms. “Ladies, shall we?”
Giggling, Livvy claimed one arm. Mercy rested her fingertips atop the other, memorizing the feel of Elias’s strong muscle flexing beneath her touch. He guided them out through the public room and then into a waiting carriage, just as he had the past several days. But today, rather than gawk out the window at the passing buildings and so many people swarming like a kickedover anthill, Mercy sat silently, staring at the man seated across from her. It was hard—nay, impossible—to reconcile s
uch a powerful-looking gentleman with the scruffy-bearded, hunting-frocked woodsman she’d known for the past month. Neither of them spoke a word the entire ride to the major’s office, and even then, he once again cleared his throat to converse with the private on guard.
The major’s door swung open, and they entered to not just Major Clement, but another two soldiers standing at attention.
“Well, well, what a difference three days can make. Ladies, you are absolutely ravishing.” The major bowed over her hand and then Livvy’s.
“Thank you, Major,” she and Livvy both murmured.
The major angled his head toward Elias. “I suppose you are presentable as well, Dubois.”
“I try, sir.”
Lord, the man did not even need to try, for he’d captured her heart as thoroughly in buckskin breeches and with a smear of dirt on his brow as in a new suit. Mercy forced her hands to remain at her sides to keep from fanning her flushed cheeks.
“Now then, Miss Hunter.” The major faced Livvy. “Are you ready to go to your father? You shall have two officers to accompany you…and this time, you shall travel by ship. No more Indian adventures for you, hmm?”
“I should like that very much, sir.” Livvy bobbed a little curtsy. “Thank you.”
“Briggs, Hawthorne.” Major Clement turned to the soldiers. “Here is your charge. See that nothing—and I mean nothing—happens to the girl until she is safely handed into her father’s care.”
“Yes, sir!” Both saluted, then broke rank and strode to the door, the taller of the two striding through, the shorter holding it wide for Livvy. “After you, Miss Hunter.”
Livvy took one step toward the door, then backtracked and plowed into Elias, surprising them all. “Thank you, Mr. Elias, for keeping me safe. Because of you, I am going to see my papa again.”
Elias blinked, then slowly wrapped his arms around the girl and patted her back. “Thank God, Livvy, not me…as we all must.”
He released her, and she beamed up at him, then stepped over to Mercy.
The girl lifted a quivering chin, and Mercy couldn’t help but choke up herself. If Livvy started weeping now, there’d be no holding back her own tears.
But Livvy held firm, standing as bravely as one of the soldiers, save for the trembling ribbon in her hair—the only hint of failed courage. “Ó:nen ki› wáhi, Miss Mercy.”
Stifling a sob, Mercy tried a smile, a bit wavery, but a smile nonetheless. “Ó:nen ki› wáhi, my friend.”
The girl turned and marched out the door, taking a piece of Mercy’s heart along with her.
“Miss Hunter is quite the little lady.” The major’s shoes shushed across the carpet to his desk, where he retrieved an envelope, then held it out to her. “But so are you, Miss Lytton. This is yours.”
She exchanged a glance with Elias.
He merely held out his hand. “After you.”
Trepidation slowed her gait. The only experience she had with official documents was in the form of translating treaties or passing along intelligence, none of which seemed to bring joy to any of the recipients.
Her lips parted as she grasped the envelope. The thing was thick and heavy. “What is this?”
“Payment for a job well done. You have served king and country without fault.”
She looked from the envelope to the major’s brown eyes. “But it was my duty, Major. Nothing more.” She offered back the envelope. “I require no payment.”
He raised his hands and retreated a step, as if she held out a snake. “Yet you shall have it. I insist.”
Obstinate man…much like Elias. No wonder the two worked together so well. She lowered the packet. “I thank you, Major. You are more than generous.”
The major cocked his head. “If I may be so bold, Miss Lytton, may I inquire as to what your plans are now?”
She stiffened. Exactly. What was she to do now with no more Matthew? No more home? No more anything, really. The envelope weighed heavy with possibility in her hand. She could settle, now that she had the means, but did she really belong here in a big city? Could she stand not to run free beneath a big sky and breathe air untainted by man?
She met the major’s stare with a confidence she did not feel. “That remains to be seen, Major.”
A “hmm” purred in the major’s throat. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“I happen to know of a certain position opening up.” He slipped a glance at Elias, then focused back on her. “A position that might be to your liking. A bit of danger. Lots of intrigue. And you’d report to no one except me.”
She snapped her gaze to Elias and searched his face. What did he think of the major offering her his job, right here in front of him?
But Elias—the real Elias—disappeared behind a polished mask of indifference.
“With your background and capabilities, you’d be a valuable asset. So, Miss Lytton”—the major spread his hands—“what do you say?”
Gallows. Musket barrels. Tomahawks and war clubs. Elias had faced them all—yet none were as terrible as the question Major Clement hurled at Mercy. He rooted his feet to the carpet, fighting the urge to throw himself between the two and shield her from such a query. If she said yes, he’d lose her…maybe forever. She could have no idea of the dangers involved in becoming a spy. He hadn’t when the major first propositioned him, sitting here in this very room, surrounded by the comfort of hearth and the promises of glory—when in reality it was mostly a life of deception, blood, and misery.
He held his breath until his lungs burned, waiting for her answer. The mantel clock ticked years off his life. The scrape of wagon wheels outside shaved off more. And still she did not answer. She just stood there blinking, looking so beautiful his throat ached for want of telling her again and again and again.
Ah, but she’d transformed over the past three days from woodland scamp to a lady of poise and wonder. Her new blue gown clung to her body in all the right places. She’d replaced her ruby heart necklace with a simple ribbon choker. And how easily she moved from one station of life to another was yet one more surprise. The only thing he missed was her long braid, swinging over her shoulder and trailing to her hips, for now she pinned up her dark hair, hiding most of it beneath a beribboned bonnet.
Her lips parted, and he couldn’t help but lean toward her. So did the major.
“I am not certain what the future holds.” She slipped him a glance, so many questions swimming in her brown eyes it would take him a lifetime to figure them out.
Even so, he breathed in relief. Good girl. She’d not jumped at the offer. He should’ve known she’d employ her usual shrewdness.
She smiled back at the major. “But I shall consider it.”
Blast! If the woman had that much adventure still blazing in her blood, she’d never consent to settling down with him on a farm smack in the middle of a normal life.
Clement pursed his lips. “I suppose that is better than a no.”
“It is the best I can give you at present, sir.”
“Fair enough.” The major turned back to his desk, this time retrieving yet another envelope. Smaller. Thinner. And with “Mr. Elias Dubois” penned on the front.
“At long last, Dubois, what you have been working for these past five years.” Clement held out the envelope. “The deed to one hundred acres in prime Connecticut farmland, as promised.”
He hesitated, palms suddenly moist. This was it. His future. Written on a frail piece of parchment. The thing he’d dreamed of while lying cold, hungry, and, more often than not, surrounded by the enemy.
He inched out his hand, then paused. The prospect of farming tasted like ashes in his mouth, for now that he’d met Mercy, his heart yearned for something more. Her. How could he possibly leave her behind?
The major shoved the envelope into his hand. “And for a job well done…” The man once again turned back to his desk and this time picked up a small leather box. He opened the lid, but his
hand hid the contents. “Because of your exemplary work and for the many lives you have saved, on behalf of the crown, I present you with this commendation of honor.”
The major pulled out a ribbon with a copper medal dangling at the end.
Without thinking, he shot out his hand, staying the major from handing it over. The land he could accept, work for work. It made sense. But this? A disappointment such as himself did not deserve such a merit. “I apologize, sir, but I cannot accept—”
“Elias.” The rebuke in the major’s voice pulled him up short, and he snapped his gaze back to the man’s face.
“It is time you let go of your past, son. My only regret is that your grandfather is not the one to award this, for I have no doubt the general would have been pleased to see the man you have become.”
He froze—but his thoughts took off at a gallop, especially as the major stepped up to him and pinned the award onto his lapel. Major Clement spoke more words of acclamation and Mercy murmured something beside him, but sound suddenly receded. How could he—sinner, wretch, prodigal—even consider wearing such a thing? Him…honorable? Oh, the laugh that surely would have guffawed out of his father’s throat. The apoplexy his grandfather would’ve suffered.
But slowly the incriminations faded, and an intense gratitude toward God ignited—for truly, the award decorating his dress coat was purely by grace and grace alone. Perhaps the major was right and it was time to let go of the past. To stop striving to prove himself to a dead grandfather and instead live to serve a loving God.
The major clapped him on the back, jarring him. “Your grandfather, God rest him, would be proud of you, Elias. As am I.” He bowed before them both. “My thanks to the two of you. Miss Lytton, I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience. Elias, Godspeed in your new life.”
He drew to attention and snapped a salute while Mercy curtseyed beside him.
“Thank you, Major.” His voice wavered, and he swallowed. “Good day.” He held out his arm, and Mercy’s light touch rested on his sleeve.
The Captured Bride Page 28
