The Bride Spy (Civil War Brides Book 3)

by Piper Davenport

  “Good afternoon, Christopher.”

  “Good afternoon, Jonathan. May I present my wife, Hannah, and my sister, Gwendolyn. And this is Andrew Simmonds.”

  Jonathan introduced his associate, Daniel O’Laughlen, and Hannah nearly laughed out loud at Daniel’s voice. It had a high-pitched whining sound to it that reminded her of a stereotypical nerd. All he needed was a pocket protector and taped glasses to make the look complete.

  Hannah tried to hide a yawn behind her hand, but after a few minutes, she slid her hand into Christopher’s arm and leaned heavily against him. He took the hint and excused them from the conversation, pulling her back to her horse.

  “Let’s get you home,” he said quietly.

  “I’ll escort Gwen home, if that’s acceptable,” Andrew offered.

  “I would love to ride a little longer,” Gwen said hopefully.

  Christopher nodded and then lifted Hannah onto her horse and guided her back to the townhouse. As they walked up the back steps, Christopher could see Hannah almost asleep on her feet. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, but fine.” She smiled. “I could sleep for a year.”

  “Well, let’s start with tonight,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Killjoy.”

  Christopher followed her up the stairs to the bedroom. She stumbled on the top stair and he was glad he was behind her. He grasped her waist and pulled her close. “What happened?”

  Hannah yawned. “I’m just tired, love. Seriously.”

  He kept her close as he pushed open their bedroom door and stepped inside. “I’ll get your nightgown.”

  She leaned against the bed and shook her head. “No, I feel kind of warm.”

  He closed the distance between them and felt her forehead. “You are a little warm.”

  “It’ll pass.” Hannah laid her hand on his chest. “I’m fine, I just need to sleep.”

  He assisted her with her clothing and then waited for her to fall asleep. As much as he loved the fact his wife was naked in their bed, the thought of her getting sick, especially while carrying his child, terrified him. After an hour of worry, he decided to gather cold water and towels just in case, and made his way to the kitchen.

  He found his sister sitting at the kitchen table, a single candle lit and sitting in the middle. “Gwennie? Are you all right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course I am.”

  Making his way to the sink, he settled a bowl under the pump. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “Because I’m not tired,” she snapped. “I’m a grown woman, Christopher. You don’t get to dictate my sleeping habits.”

  “Gwennie.” He turned to face her, nodding toward the glass in front of her with a slight smirk. “How’s your warmed milk?”

  Gwen smacked the table with a groan. “Even Daddy likes warm milk when he can’t sleep.”

  “You’re on edge tonight, little sister.” He turned back to the sink. “What’s amiss?”

  “Perhaps I’m sick of being treated like a porcelain doll.”

  “Who treats you like a porcelain doll?”

  “Nobody,” she grumbled.

  He tried to control a chuckle at her deflated tone. “Andrew, perhaps?”

  Gwen sighed. “I’m certain I don’t care.”

  Drying his hands with a soft cloth, he sat at the table and faced her. “I’m certain you do. What’s going on with you?

  “Nothing I particularly want to talk about,” she snapped.

  “All right, Gwennie.” He squeezed her arm and then stood. He unlocked the back door and pulled it open.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I need to get ice.”

  “Why?”

  Christopher grabbed a pail and an ice pick. “Hannah has a fever.”

  Gwen stood. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Christopher shook his head. “No.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Christopher turned to find Andrew standing in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned and flapping open, and a gun in his hands.

  “I need to get ice.” Christopher raised an eyebrow. “No need to shoot it into pieces.”

  Andrew’s gaze raked over Gwen. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course, I’m all right.” She crossed her arms. “I’m with my brother.”

  Gwen sent a pointed look toward Christopher and he smiled. “Yes, Andrew. Gwennie is perfectly safe. No need to treat her like a doll.”

  Her quiet hiss confirmed he’d hit the mark.

  Andrew settled the gun in the waistband of his trousers and leaned against the doorjamb. “Perhaps you should go on back to bed then.”

  “I’m not tired.” She scowled at him. “But I thank you for the concern.”

  Christopher raised the bucket toward them. “I’ll leave you to your conversation. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes. Please leave the door unlocked.”

  Christopher returned faster than expected, grateful to find his sister and Andrew no longer in the kitchen. He gathered his supplies and made his way back upstairs. Hannah was sitting up in bed with a bowl in front of her. He set the ice on the bureau and immediately went to her. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

  “Sick,” she whispered.

  He felt her forehead again. “All right, precious girl, let’s see if we can’t make you a little more comfortable.”

  Soaking a strip of cloth in the ice water, he laid it over her forehead.

  She fell back to sleep and they didn’t wake up again until nine the next morning. He rolled over to face her, and his first thought was to check her temperature.

  “Hi.” She smiled.

  “Good morning. How are you feeling?” He reached over to check her forehead.

  “Much better.” She pulled the quilt up to her shoulders.

  “I’m concerned about your fever.”

  Hannah yawned. “Don’t be. I’m sure it’s all pregnancy related.”

  He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on. “I’m going to send for Stephen. I want him to examine you and make sure everything is all right.”

  She pushed herself up and tried not to roll her eyes. “You are not going to make the poor man catch a train from Harrisburg just to ease your mind, Knight. I’m fine.”

  “I still want to be certain.”

  “Don’t bother him. Please. If I’m worse in a few days, then we can talk about Stephen.” She started to climb out as well, but was instantly dizzy and had to sit back down.

  Christopher pushed her back. “Back into bed, sweetheart.”

  “I’m fine! It’s normal for pregnant women to feel faint.”

  “Yes, but you’re my pregnant woman, and I want you in bed until you no longer feel that way.” She grumbled as he assisted her back into bed and pulled the covers over her. “We have nothing planned today, so I’ll find you a book and we can simply relax.”

  “Will you stay in here with me?”

  He kissed her forehead. “If you wish it.”

  “I wish it.”

  “All right. I’m going to find a book and some breakfast. Why don’t you try and rest while I’m gone?”

  “I’m not tired.”

  Christopher chuckled as he came back to the side of the bed. “Don’t be difficult.”

  “Don’t be long.”

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I won’t be.”

  * * *

  By lunchtime Sunday Hannah was grumpy and had a major case of cabin fever. “I’m done being in bed now, thank you very much.” She swung her legs over the side.

  “Wait.” He moved to her side of the bed. “Take a moment and go slowly. How do you feel?”

  “I feel fine.”

  “Would you tell me if you didn’t?”

  She smiled at him. “Maybe, maybe not. But I really do feel fine. No dizziness or nausea. I promise.” He wrapped an arm around her waist for support as she stood and didn’t release her until he was certain she wouldn’t fall. “Knigh
t, I’m fine. Truly.”

  “All right,” he said reluctantly.

  He helped her dress and they made their way downstairs to find Gwen glaring at Andrew across the dining room table. Andrew didn’t look particularly happy either.

  “What’s going on?” Hannah took a seat at the table.

  “Nothing.” Gwen sighed.

  Andrew dropped his fork. “Gwen’s being obstinate.”

  “You’re being dictatorial,” she snapped.

  “I want you safe.”

  “All right, you two.” Christopher held his hands up and shot Andrew a pointed glance. “I think we’re going to change tactics.”

  Hannah drew her eyebrows together. “What do you mean by tactics?”

  “You’re both going to Clayton’s on Tuesday.”

  “Christopher,” Hannah’s voice held suspicion, “what are you planning?”

  Christopher ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t go into details, but if you’re both at Clayton’s, then I’m confident you’ll be safe.”

  Andrew nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Hannah crossed her arms and sat back with a huff. “Clay’s in Harrisburg.”

  Christopher smiled. “Exactly why it will be safe.”

  Andrew took a sip of coffee. “Walter’s there, which will give us added backup.”

  Gwen frowned. “But—”

  “Gwennie, leave it,” Christopher interrupted.

  Hannah sent Christopher a glare of reproach. He knew he’d have to tell her more than he’d like, but he wasn’t going to do it in front of his sister. His breathing evened out once he knew she wouldn’t push him.

  TUESDAY MORNING CAME faster than Christopher would have liked. He’d successfully moved his family to safety, had trusted men stationed at the farm, and now Hannah and Gwen were settled at Clayton’s with Walter on high alert.

  Christopher settled Hannah in the parlor with a book and waited for Andrew and Gwen to finish their argument in the dining room. It had been going on for almost an hour, and Hannah had insisted on giving them privacy, despite his protests.

  “Are you going to tell me what the plan is?”

  “No.” Christopher sat across from her in one of the high-backed chairs. “But I imagine it’ll all be over by the end of the day.”

  Hannah raised an eyebrow. “You’re confident then?”

  “I am.” He smiled. “I work with a great group of men.”

  She sipped her tea. “I just want you to be careful.”

  Leaning forward, he laid his hands on her lap. “I’m always careful, sweetheart. No need to worry.”

  “I’m not the worrying kind.” She set the cup aside and kissed his cheek. “But I’d like you to leave me a gun when you go after the bad guys.”

  He smiled and handed her one he’d already loaded for her. “I planned ahead.”

  Hannah grinned and took the pistol. “Thank you.”

  “It pulls a bit to the left, so keep that in mind.” Christopher showed her how to cock it. “Also, keep it away from your face, the powder could burn you.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “I know how to handle a gun, love.” She sighed at his frown. “Knight, I’m not even going to need it. But if I do, I shoot to kill.” She giggled. “Does that make you feel better?”

  Christopher dragged his hands down his face. “Not in the least.”

  “Chris?”

  He glanced up to see Andrew standing in the doorway. “Ready?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes.”

  Gwen glared as she brushed past Andrew and flopped down on the sofa. She stared out the window, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

  Christopher turned back to Hannah. “Stay here and keep the house locked.” He leaned down and kissed her quickly.

  Hannah chuckled. “We’re fine, Knight. Go.”

  He reluctantly left her and followed Andrew out to their horses.

  * * *

  Hannah heard the bolt slide home on the front door, followed by Gwen’s sigh that echoed thought the parlor. “Gwen?”

  “Hm?”

  Hannah shifted in her seat to face her. “What’s going on with you and Andrew?”

  Gwen shrugged. “Nothing that bears repeating.”

  “What has you so upset, Gwen? You and Andrew both seem to be acting out of character at the moment... I’ve never heard either of you raise your voices before, and certainly not at each other.”

  Gwen fiddled with a ribbon on her day dress. “He’s so vexing, and I don’t know the why of it.”

  “He cares about you.”

  Gwen shook her head and stared out the window again. Hannah couldn’t get her to open up any further, so she focused on her book and left Gwen with her thoughts.

  Hours went by without any sign from the men, and as the shadows of the afternoon played with the light in the parlor, Hannah couldn’t stop the worry from settling over her. Gwen had been quiet company most of the day, but now she paced the floor of the parlor, mumbling under her breath.

  “Gwen?” Hannah closed her book and rose to her feet. “I’m going to make some tea. Would you like some?”

  Gwen paused briefly and then shook her head.

  “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” Hannah stepped out of the parlor, but just as she turned to make her way back to the kitchen, she heard a key in the lock, and the bolt on the front door slid open. Andrew walked through the door and quickly closed it behind him.

  “Where’s Chris?”

  Andrew removed his hat. “He’s dealing with the coroner and Sam.”

  Hannah gasped. “Coroner? What happened?”

  Andrew shook his head. “A minor skirmish, nothing that needs details.”

  “Minor enough that it requires a coroner, however, hm?” When he didn’t elaborate, she huffed. “Fine.” Hannah crossed her arms. “Is everyone okay?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes.”

  “When will Christopher be home?”

  “Late.”

  Hannah couldn’t stop the frustrated growl that resonated in her chest. “You better start talking, Andrew, or I’m going to hit something, and you’re in my line of fire.”

  Andrew sighed. “I can’t tell you anything at the moment. It’s all being investigated, and I’m sworn to secrecy. I’m here to take you back to the townhouse to gather a few things.”

  Gwen stepped out of the parlor. “Gather a few things? Why?”

  “You’ll both be staying here for a week.”

  Hannah stomped her foot. “Why will we be staying here for a week, Andrew?”

  “Your home needs to be cleaned up.”

  Hannah punched Andrew in the arm, eliciting a hiss of surprise from him. “What was that for?”

  Hannah crossed her arms again. “Why does my home need to be cleaned up?”

  “All I can say is that the skirmish traveled into your home.” Andrew’s eyes tipped to the ceiling and he rubbed his bicep. “Just gather your things and I’ll take you home.” He focused back on Gwen. “You too, please.”

  Hannah knew she’d get nothing further from him. She also admitted to herself that the punch had been a low blow, but she still felt better. She’d apologize later.

  Without further comment, Hannah gathered her outerwear and followed Gwen and Andrew out to the buggy. Arriving back at the Butlers’ townhouse, Andrew assisted Hannah and Gwen from the carriage and then led them up the front porch.

  Men bustled in and out of the house, and Hannah couldn’t stop the groan when she saw the state of the foyer. Glass and dirt from the potted plant in the corner were strewn across the marble tile, and footprints covered the floor.

  As she stepped inside, she was almost bowled over by three men carrying a body out on a stretcher. She peeked inside the parlor and wrinkled her nose. The blood stains on the floor and walls would take a while to clean. “What happened?”

  “Don’t try and clean that up sweetheart. We’ll have some men come in and take care of it,” Christopher said
from behind her.

  Hannah went eagerly into his embrace. “I take it this is why we’re staying at Emma’s?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her temple.

  “Chris?”

  Hannah glanced up to see Sam walk into the foyer. Christopher set Hannah aside but kept an arm around her as he stretched out his hand to the man. “Sam. Thank you for coming.”

  Sam shook his hand and removed his hat. “I’ve got the two you shackled down at the prison. I just need a little more information.”

  Christopher frowned. “Can it wait?”

  Sam glanced at Hannah. “No, but it won’t take long.”

  Hannah smiled and laid a hand on Christopher’s arm. “Christopher, you should go.”

  He shook his head. “The front door isn’t fixed yet.”

  “Knight.” She rolled her eyes. “I think we can take care of ourselves while you check in.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Hannah raised an eyebrow. “What could happen? You’ve taken care of the threat; you’ll be back in less than an hour. It’ll take us that long to pack up our stuff anyway.”

  Christopher lifted her hand to his lips and then turned his attention to Sam. “You’ll keep a man on guard?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes. It won’t take long.”

  Pushing Christopher toward the door, she patted his back. “Go. We’ll be fine. Gwen’s probably already packing.”

  He turned and kissed her quickly. “I won’t be long.”

  Hannah grinned. “Good. We’ll be waiting.” She watched him jog down the front steps and waved when he looked back at her. “I love you,” she called and was rewarded with a wink.

  She took a detour to the kitchen to ask for some tea and then came back through the foyer. She was met by a young man standing in her doorway.

  “Ma’am?”

  “May I help you?”

  He held up a hammer. “I’m here to fix your door.”

  “Oh, right. Go ahead. Thank you.” Something about him made her uncomfortable and she felt for the gun in her skirt pocket. He seemed nervous and wasn’t paying much attention to her door. Instead, he kept looking left and right as though he was expecting someone. If Gwen wasn’t upstairs, she’d have slunk quietly out the back door and gone for help, but she needed to be smart.