"Chandler," she whispered, reaching out to him. "It's me. Don't you recognize me?"
His brow furrowed into a suspicious frown, then a rakish smile curved his lips. "I make it a habit never to forget a beautiful woman. You must have me mistaken with someone else, because I can assure you I could never forget anyone as lovely as you."
By now, several prisoners had gathered around Chandler, and Lavender noticed, for the first time, that they each wore blue uniforms, while her brother was dressed as a civilian. "You must surely be getting absent-minded, sir," one of them quipped. Laughter and sneers quickly ceased when Chandler turned a disapproving glance on the men.
"Are you all from the Virginia Regiment?" she asked, suspecting that the other prisoners must be under her brother's command.
Chandler's blue eyes darkened with suspicion. "I am not a fool, ma'am. I can see through your ploy. When the British soldiers couldn't get me to admit my name, they thought to send a beautiful woman to accomplish what they failed to do. Go back and tell them that you failed also. I am not this Chandler Daymond you speak of."
"Chandler, please listen to me. We haven't got much time—"
He held up his hand to silence her. "I have all the time in the world, ma'am. At least until they slip a noose around my neck."
"Chandler, for godsakes, be quiet and listen. It's me—Lavender!"
His eyes snapped wide, and he stared at her long and hard. Finally the merest smile tugged at his lips, and his eyes now danced with joy. His hand reached out to her. "My dearest little sister, how could I not know you when you are the female counterpart of myself?"
Tears glistened in her eyes as she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm and he pulled her closer to the bars, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Sweet Lavender, I thought never to see you again."
Suddenly the urgency of their situation reminded Lavender of the need for haste. Wiping her tears away, she moved to the cell door. Fumbling with the keys, she finally inserted the correct one and the door creaked open. In no time at all, Chandler rushed to her, enfolding her in his arms, and they clung to each other.
He held her away from him and smiled lovingly. "I don't have time to ask how you found me, or to inquire about what fool allowed you to put your life in jeopardy, but I still want to know all about it when we are away from here."
"Are these all your men, Chandler?" she asked, knowing the time would come when she would have to tell her brother all about herself.
"Yes, these dozen are all that survived the battle." He looked worried for a moment. "You didn't come here alone, did you, Lavender?"
"Of course not. I am not completely crazed. Nicodemus is with me."
Nicodemus chose that moment to appear at the door and Chandler grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. "It's good to see you, Nicodemus. I have missed you almost as much as I miss my father."
"I would have been with you, Chandler, but I felt the need to look after your sister."
Chandler nodded his agreement. "Rightly so, Nicodemus. I always knew Lavender was in good hands with you caring for her. However, later I will want some answers as to why you allowed her to come here."
"I thought you might, but we don't have time for that right now," Nicodemus stated. "I took care of the jailers, but we don't know what time they change the guard." He glanced at the other soldiers before he spoke again. "We only brought three horses with us, but I noticed there are a dozen or more in the corral out back."
Chandler took his sister's hand while he spoke to his men. "Take the horses in the corral and get away from here as quickly as possible. It is better if we break up into smaller groups—that way some of us may escape. If you get through, report to our unit in Richmond within a week."
"Let's get away," Nicodemus said urgently. "It's no more than two hours until dawn."
Chandler smiled down at his sister. With his arm around her shoulders, he led her out of the jail. With the orderliness of trained troops, the men silently disbursed, each in a different direction. Lavender, Nicodemus, and Chandler turned their mounts toward Virginia, knowing they must be far away before the hue and cry was sounded.
It was well past the noon hour when the three weary travelers felt they had covered enough distance so it would be safe enough to stop and rest. Nicodemus had scouted ahead and found a barn in back of a burned-out farmhouse. When Lavender and Chandler caught up to him, he had already found fresh hay and strewn it on the floor to make soft pallets. There was a bucket of water from the well and dried meat for them to eat.
Too fatigued to move a muscle, Lavender dropped down onto the soft bed of hay, closed her eyes, and immediately drifted off to sleep. She did not know that Chandler and Nicodemus talked for a long time in hushed tones so they would not disturb her.
As they talked, both men rested their backs against the barn door, both alert in case they were being followed. Nicodemus told Chandler what Lavender's life was like, living with stern and unloving Aunt Amelia.
"It never crossed my mind that Aunt Amelia would be so unfeeling to my sister. I found comfort thinking she was being well cared for."
"Oh, she don't go to bed hungry, but she works harder than Jackson and Phoebe put together." Now there was reprimand in Nicodemus's voice. "I know there is a war going on, but did you never consider looking into your sister's welfare? You could have written her. She has had a lonely and sad existence. One letter from you would have given her joy for months."
Chandler looked dejected. "I deserve anything you say to me, Nicodemus. My only excuse is that I am so caught up in this war that I hardly think of anything else."
"If you had looked after your sister better, she wouldn't be in the predicament she now faces. Others have been using her to their own advantage, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The only thing I was able to do was stay near Lavender to keep her from harm."
Chandler's face paled, and he became tense. "What are you saying? Who used her? What harm are you talking about?"
Nicodemus set his jaw stubbornly. He cared for Chandler, but his burning loyalty belonged to the girl he had come to love as if she were his own daughter. He was fiercely protective of her, and not even her brother could make him betray her trust. "It ain't for me to say. If you want to know what your sister's been up to, I suggest you ask her."
"You can't imagine the thoughts that are going through my mind at this moment, Nicodemus. I will kill any man who has misused my sister." His eyes took on a look of horror. "You aren't saying—no one has—"
"No, by God, or I would have killed him myself. If you want my opinion, or if you don't, I'd look into the matter if I was you."
Chandler's eyes wandered to his sister, who slept, unaware of his concern. "You can be satisfied that I will do just that." He watched the way her golden hair made a halo around her head and the half smile on her lips that hinted that her dreams were sweet. "I still thought of her as a child. I pictured her as she looked the last time I saw her. She was crying and hung onto my neck, begging me not to leave her, telling me I was her best friend." His eyes became misty. "It seems that I have let my best friend down by way of neglect."
"She has the kindest heart of anyone I know. She loves you, Chandler, and would forgive you anything. You saw her put her life in danger to free you."
"How did she know where to find me?"
Nicodemus's eyes became secretive again. "You can ask her when she wakes up."
Chandler reached out and removed a straw that had tangled in his sister's hair. "She is beautiful, Nicodemus. I don't care if she is my sister, I have seen no woman who could rival her in looks."
Nicodemus laughed softly. "She is your twin, you handsome devil. She has the look of you, only where she is all soft and pretty, you are hard and manly."
Chandler closed his eyes. "You have given me much to think on, Nicodemus. I am so tired . . ."
Nicodemus saw Chandler's head fall sideways, and he knew the young man had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Wi
th very little effort he pulled Chandler to the straw bed without disturbing his sleep. Nicodemus flexed his tired muscles and picked up his rifle. He would keep his vigil so no harm would come to his two charges.
Julian was unable to sleep because visions of two very blue eyes kept dancing through his mind. He could still remember the sweetness of her lips beneath his, the way her golden hair had reflected the candlelight, and he knew her angelic face would haunt him the rest of his life.
He was irritated, more than a little, because he was allowing a woman to interfere with his sleep. He fluffed his pillow and lay back against it, trying to clear his mind. He had important matters to attend to. There was no time to chase after a flighty woman. Still, he could send a note around asking if he could call on her in the evening—if he knew where to send it.
He muttered an oath and clasped his hands behind his head, watching the morning sunlight chase the night shadows across his bedroom wall. No woman was worth a man's peace of mind, let alone depriving him of his sleep.
Finally, in frustration he threw the bed covers off and came to his feet. He might as well get up, it was for sure he wasn't going to get any sleep. As he rang for his valet, Hendrick, and waited for him to appear, he wondered why Miss Lowell had left so hastily last night. Perhaps he had been too bold with her—after all, it had been very apparent that she was an innocent. He must have frightened her.
All the time Hendrick was helping him dress, Julian was pondering a way to make amends for his actions the night before. He was glad he had accepted the invitation to breakfast with Cornwallis, because it would give him a chance to persuade the general to tell him where Miss Lowell lived.
Cornwallis paused with his butter knife in midair. "You really must try the muffins, Your Grace. They are made of ground corn, and the taste is most extraordinary. The Colonists call them Indian slapjacks. I haven't eaten anything half so delicious since the war started. I am going to take the recipe home with me so my cook can prepare them for me."
"You have become a man of simple tastes, Charles." Julian lifted his tea cup and took a sip before continuing. "1 will leave the corn to the Indians, the war to your astute management, and the Colonists to Providence."
The general laughed merrily. "What hornet got into your brain? You were in a good mood last night, what happened?"
Julian frowned. "Why does something have to be the matter just because I reject your muffin, or whatever it is you call it."
Jovial laughter met Julian's ear. "By all that's holy, I know what's the matter with you. It's Miss Lowell, isn't it?" He leaned in closer with eagerness showing in his eyes. "She spurned you, didn't she?"
Julian was having trouble keeping his impatience under control. "Have a care, Charles. You know I never discuss a lady over breakfast." His eyelashes half covered his eyes. "By the way, while we are on the subject of Miss Lowell, I wonder if you would tell me where she lives?"
Cornwallis could hardly control his facial muscles, but he did manage not to laugh aloud. "I have never known you to allow your interest in a woman to last past one day. So you like our little Colonist?"
"I am in no mood to appease your curiosity. Just tell me where she lives, and I'll do the rest." Julian's voice was dry and commanding.
Before Cornwallis could reply, there was a clamor at the door, and his aide burst in. "Begging your pardon, sir," he addressed his commander. "There is a Sergeant Patrick Riley to see you on an urgent matter."
"Can it not wait until after we have finished our meal?" Cornwallis asked in irritation.
"I thought you might want to be informed about this matter, sir. It concerns several prisoners who escaped the guardhouse last night."
"How could that possibly be of interest to me? I assume that every effort is being implemented to pursue and recapture them?"
The aide did not appear the least put off by his superior. "Yes, sir, but I thought you might like to know that a woman was instrumental in their escape. You had asked to be informed on any activities that might concern the Swallow. Sergeant Riley has reason to believe it was the Swallow who freed the prisoners."
Julian slowly rose to his feet, the blood pounding through his body. "Send the man in at once. I want to hear what he has to say."
"At once, Your Grace," the aide answered respectfully. Bowing and clicking his heels together, he turned to walk stiffly out of the room.
"What lunacy is this, Charles?" Julian's voice thundered out. "Why is it always assumed that the Swallow lurks around every corner. It is my belief that no woman can strike in so many places. I surmise that she is credited with several crimes she did not commit. Do your men jump at shadows and fear they see this woman hiding behind every bush?"
Cornwallis was unabashed. Dabbing at his lips with his napkin, he leaned back and stared at the duke. "You came to Charleston on the presumption that the Swallow would be operating in the vicinity. Suppose you question this sergeant and draw your own conclusions."
Julian's boots clicked against the wooden floor as he walked to the door and jerked it open, almost coming head to head with a stupefied Sergeant Riley. With a waving motion, Julian directed the Irishman into the room.
Sergeant Riley stood at attention before Cornwallis, his commanding general. He had never been in the great man's presence and quaked at the notion that he would be severely punished for allowing his prisoners to escape.
The general remained seated as he stared at the nervous soldier, while Julian's face showed his impatience. "You are Sergeant Riley, are you not?" the general asked.
"Yes, General, sir, I am Sergeant Riley" came the ready reply.
"This is His Grace, the Duke of Mannington. You can speak freely in front of him. Inform us of the events that occurred last night."
The sergeant's face reddened. "Well, sir," he said, directing his conversation to the Duke of Mannington.
"I was two hours into my watch when a young woman came bursting through the door. She appeared most distressed and asked if I would help her." He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. The duke's piercing gaze was overwhelming, but the sergeant dared not look away. "I am willing to take full responsibility for the escape, Your Grace. It was unpardonable of me to leave my post. I will gladly take whatever punishment—"
"What did this woman look like?" Julian demanded to know.
Sergeant Riley licked his dry lips. "I never would have suspected her of such a dark deed, Your Grace. She appeared to be an angel, so sweet and innocent."
Julian's eyes darkened. "Describe her to me in detail."
Riley began to relax a bit. The duke seemed more interested in the woman than in recommending any kind of punishment for himself. "I can remember thinking that her hair was like the sunrise on a spring morning. You know, Your Grace, how the sunlight looks when it first touches the sky."
Julian glanced at Charles with a sneer on his lips. "Your man is a poet. Perhaps you could get him to write a glowing sonnet to this woman."
Cornwallis came to his feet. "Allow him to continue, I am fascinated by his description." His eyes danced merrily. "If she is half as handsome as he paints, perhaps I will write a sonnet to her myself."
"So she had the face of an angel and hair like the sunshine," Julian affirmed. "Tell me more."
"Well, Your Grace, she was dressed in this white gown, except that across the top and down the skirt was the design of a peacock."
Julian tensed, feeling sick inside. "Say that again," he demanded harshly.
Sergeant Riley was confused. "Do you mean the part about the design of a peacock on her gown?"
Julian and Charles Cornwallis locked eyes. "By God, what folly is this?" Cornwallis's voice thundered. "You have just described the sister of a man who died bravely fighting for king and country. I will not allow you to denigrate Madeline Lowell's name."
Poor Riley looked confused. "Sir, I assure you I only described the woman as she appeared last night. I have no—
Julian felt as if something h
ard had just slammed into his midsection. "That will be all, Sergeant Riley," he said in a deadly calm voice. "Remain on the premises. We shall undoubtedly have more questions for you later on."
As Julian sank down in a chair, Cornwallis watched the sergeant depart. "Here is a pretty kettle of fish, Your Grace. If Madeline Lowell is the Swallow, I find it highly unlikely that she is Daniel's sister."
Julian felt sick inside. Like his own brother, and who knows how many other men, he had held the Swallow in his arms and kissed her, fascinated by her beauty. He hadn't been able to sleep last night for remembering her sweetness. The fury that burned in his heart was so strong that he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. How she must have laughed at him last night, while he acted her fool.
"I believe when you launch your investigation, Charles, you will discover that Daniel Lowell had no sister, or if he did, the woman who attended your gala was not her."
"This is preposterous! You can damned well be sure I will get to the bottom of this."
Julian now knew what had caused his brother, William, to fall prey to the Swallow's charms. She was beautiful and bewitching. How fortunate for her that treachery and deceitfulness did not show on one's face. But Julian would have sworn she was an innocent. Perhaps therein lay her ability to be successful with her crafty schemes. He was more determined than ever to capture the Swallow. He was one step closer to capturing her after last night—for now he knew what her face looked like!
"What are your plans, Your Grace? Surely you are not going back to Williamsburg now that she knows who you are?"
"Not only am I going back, I am going to act as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Sooner or later she will make a mistake, and 1 will have her."
General Cornwallis was a seasoned soldier, but even he shivered at the angry gleam in Julian's eyes. "I will clip the wings of the Swallow once and for all," His Grace vowed.
Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) Page 10
