So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  She swallowed, pretending to be humbled by his generosity instead of sickened by it. “You are most gracious. But I must plead to be allowed to finish my duties in the kitchen before I comply. I shall not be long.” Injecting the sweetest sound to her voice and slanting her head just so, Hannah did her best to portray the feminine sweetness she believed he would be unable to decline.

  As suspected, he could not. He grinned, admiration deepening the lines at his eyes. “Do what is required, but only that. We must be prepared to leave at four this afternoon. Mrs. Pitman should wish to see you from the start, I’ve no doubt.” Her stomach sickened when that carnal look returned. “Until tonight.”

  Hannah nodded with a smile of her own. “Until tonight.”

  So much in so few words.

  He hadn’t any idea what tonight would bring. What tonight meant for the Patriots. What it meant for her. For Joseph. For their future.

  * * *

  In the foundry, the hammer seemed lighter in Joseph’s hand as he pounded on the freshly heated iron. The memory of their kiss, of Hannah’s smile as she accepted his proposal, of her fingers twined with his, imbibed him with strength.

  “We are only five from our goal.” He spoke to Sackett, who yanked on the bellows at the forge behind him. “I imagine we will be done before the ball. Will you be attending?”

  ’Twas Deane who laughed in response. “We don’t go to such gatherings. We’re as good as dross to them.” He began banging his hammer, sparks flying. “You? I hear Miss Young is attending with Major Stockton.”

  “She is.” A fact he still could not accept, but must. He lifted the glowing barrel and pounded its end on the anvil. “I’ve not been invited.”

  “Perhaps you will be.”

  Joseph looked up at the sound of Higley’s voice as he entered. Nodding in greeting to the others, Higley stopped in front of Joseph, a paper in his outstretched hand. “This just came for you.”

  Clearly already read, Joseph took the note and brushed away the forming scowl with an inhale. Did this man really not harbor ill intentions? ’Twas too dangerous to suppose otherwise. Why else would Higley have read a missive meant for him? The only ones who knew he was even here were his friends in camp at Roxbury.

  He moved to place the note in his pocket to read another time, but Higley stopped him. “Read it now. Perhaps ’tis urgent.”

  Fighting a questioning scowl, Joseph flipped it open and scanned the note penned in the familiar hand of Nathaniel.

  Good day, old friend.

  I pray this note finds you blessed and well.

  I am writing to inform you that the wedding will go as planned, thanks to your abundant generosity. We know you will not be in attendance, but I could not move forward without telling you that your goodwill will not go unnoticed or unappreciated.

  We shall think of you, as you surely will think of us.

  Come again when you can. Salem is solemn without you.

  Joseph folded the paper, smiling his thanks to Higley. Would to God the man hadn’t deciphered the hidden message as easily as he had. The raid was on, as planned, and his friends were part of it. This was as much a note to relieve him and Hannah of their post as anything. After tonight they could leave without any lingering guilt that in fact the army might still need them, and it had taken far less than the two weeks allotted them. But he would not “come again.” He had Hannah to care for. And Jacob. Though he wished to join his friends at arms, he must take them away and only return when the war was over—if it ended at all. He would never risk their lives knowing Stockton was anywhere near Eaton Hill.

  Where would he take them? West? Virginia perhaps? Another thought gripped him at the heels. Hannah knew of Jacob. She must understand ’twould not be only the two of them. ’Twas such a natural inference, perhaps she would not…nay, she was the most loving woman he’d known. Surely she would welcome the thought of caring for the boy.

  “All is well, I trust?” Higley’s sudden question snapped Joseph back to the present.

  “Uh…aye.” He slipped the note into his pocket, then reached for the long barrel that needed another good heating. Shoving it into the coals, he reached for the bellows. “Family wedding. Seems I shall miss it.”

  “It seems you shall.” Higley’s jaw ticked, and his tone went dark. “Have you seen Lieutenant Greene?”

  Joseph straightened. “Nay. Not since Stockton banished him to Sandwich. Why?”

  Neck muscles tight, Higley swung a glance to the others before continuing. “One of my men tells me they saw him in town today.”

  “Today?”

  “Aye, and I have a feeling he is wishing to prove himself, much like Stockton’s son did. He doesn’t like to be told he is wrong.”

  “Wrong about Hannah, you mean.”

  Higley nodded.

  Joseph wiped a hand over his face and looked behind him to be sure the others were well occupied and hadn’t stilled to listen in. Thankfully, they talked between themselves. Joseph turned back to Higley. Did Greene still think he could sway Stockton?

  “You think he will try to come back?”

  Higley threw a quick glance to the soldiers as Joseph had done and stepped closer, nearly whispering. “I suspect he will be about. Be careful.”

  He spoke of tonight—the drop he must make to Willis. Joseph only dipped his chin in acknowledgment. Why did this man seem so intent upon helping him? Was he not the enemy?

  After a sigh, Higley began again, speaking of something different yet equally pressing. “She will need you there tonight.”

  The pronouncement made Joseph yank the bellows harder, the flames in the forge roaring. “If you think I will let her go alone, then you don’t know me at all.” He didn’t speak again until Sackett spoke to Deane over the clanking of his hammer. “I shall follow and watch from outside. If I could attend, I would, but ’tis a private gathering. I’ve not had an invitation.”

  “But of course you have.” Higley smacked him on the back, speaking so low the fire would be hard pressed to eavesdrop. “If anyone asks, I delivered an invitation to you in person.” He looked behind, then continued. “Make the expected delivery and arrive after dinner. Your name will be on the list, and I daresay Stockton will be pleased to hear your report.”

  Could this man do that? “Who are you?” Joseph regretted the question as soon as it left him, but the curiosity was too much to retain.

  There was a pause before his reply. “Just a soldier.” Higley touched the end of his hat and signaled his departure to the others, his volume rising above the din. “Men.”

  They nodded in acknowledgment, more intent on their work than paying attention to anything else.

  Joseph stared after Higley as he left, struggling to balance the questions atop the peaks of revelations that were glaringly few. Higley was a soldier, but not the kind Joseph knew. That kind would be more willing to aggrieve than assist. Where Higley…with all his secrets he was far too trustworthy to be seen as a mere Lobsterback.

  Joseph breathed easier, hardly knowing he’d been so tense. God be praised for this cryptic stranger. Without him, he would have been forced to watch from afar, but now he could protect Hannah at her side.

  He pulled hard on the bellows. Tonight it would be over. And tomorrow, they would at last, at last, be one.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Pressing the needle up and down through the fabric was a pitiful occupation for one so rife with anxiety. Hannah glanced up, allowing an audible sigh to free some of her angst as she sat at the kitchen table. If Stockton returned to find her here instead of abed, she could plead his understanding that staying warm by the fire with easy occupation of her hands was rest enough. In truth, she had to find a way to keep her mind estranged from what ailed it.

  The note she’d copied and folded sat like a brick in her pocket, so heavy she feared it would be seen bulging from the side of her skirt. The courier had taken the original hours ago, and she prayed once she gave thi
s to Joseph and the Patriots received it, it would not be too late.

  A knock on the front door spun her on her seat. Standing, she peered through the kitchen window to see who it was before she ventured to answer it.

  ’Twas Reece.

  Hannah hurried to the door and opened it, balking in surprise at the large package in his hands. “Good afternoon, Reece. What brings you here?”

  Those ruddy cheeks widened, and his eyes smiled. “You do, miss.”

  She laughed through her reply. “I?”

  He extended the package to her with a polite bow. “A package for you. I was instructed to be sure it made it into your hands.”

  A package for her? Mouth open with happy surprise, Hannah took it. “Why, thank you.”

  Reece stepped back, his boyish expression genuine and innocent. “Of course, miss.”

  “Will you be attending the ball tonight?”

  Grinning, he shook his head. “Nay, miss. ’Tis an affair for those higher in rank and status than I.” Such a thing seemed not to dim his spirit. “Mrs. Pitman is known for throwing quite a party. I am sure you will have an enjoyable evening.”

  “I am sure I shall.”

  Too bad he would not attend. At least then perhaps Hannah might have someone with whom she would like to converse.

  Hannah curtsied slightly, reaching for the door. “I thank you, Reece.”

  He touched the end of his hat. “Miss.”

  Turning, he started for the yard, and she closed the door.

  A package. No one had ever given her anything like this before. Mouth twisting sideways, she pulled her lip between her teeth, examining the bundle in her hands. Of medium weight, the package was wrapped in simple brown paper, twine crisscrossing over the front and back. She lifted it up to see if a note was attached, but there was none she could detect. Suddenly realization poured like a crisp rain.

  Caroline.

  She must have sent a gown. Face blooming, Hannah released a joyous breath. Such a dear she was. Hannah couldn’t curb her girlish enthusiasm and hurried abovestairs. Sitting on the bed, she untied the twine and unwrapped what she knew it must be. Folding the paper away like curtains to a spring garden, Hannah held her breath.

  Oh dearest heaven.

  A note rested atop the gift. A single small card bearing words she could hear as well as read. For you, my darling.

  Hannah’s breath stilled in awe. My darling. He hadn’t called her that since…oh, how she’d missed the sound of the words.

  Holding the cream gown up—the pink petticoat folded beneath and peeking hello—Hannah’s eyes began to burn. When had he purchased it? Her throat ached. She didn’t deserve him. How had she been so blessed to gain a second chance?

  Like a cry from the past, the last untold secret wailed for revelation. She could hold it in no longer, and she put a hand to her head. Lord, grant me the right moment to tell him, and swiftly. He must know before we speak vows.

  When surely the gift was intended to lift her spirits, it did the opposite. He gave her gifts and made her promises for the future, and she would give him the knowledge of something so mournful?

  She laid the gown aside and went to the door, latching it shut before beginning to unfasten her bodice. Slipping it from her shoulders, she moved to the table and sat, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror.

  After tonight…if he would still have her, they would be one at last. Their lives joined as she had always wished.

  After the ball. After the raid. After this final missive made it into the hands of the Patriots. Then they would be free. Where they would go, she knew and cared not, for he was her home.

  She reached two fingers between her breasts and removed the message she’d copied.

  Dorchester Heights.

  Reading again the possible fate of her friends in Roxbury, Hannah shuddered. Washington must learn of this and take the hill as swiftly as he could. Another devastation like that at Bunker Hill would be unimaginable. But perhaps Washington had enough men—more than even Howe—and such an end could be averted.

  Sighing out the storm, she replaced the note and reached for the pitcher, pouring the cool water into the basin atop her dressing table. The soaked cloth slicked over her skin as she began the process of cleaning, smoothing, brushing, curling. With help the task was difficult enough, but alone, ’twas nearly impossible.

  The longer she toiled, the more her anxieties domed over her. What if the raid failed? What if she failed? She was supposed to keep Stockton well entertained, but could she? Lord, be my guide, I pray thee.

  Dotting rosewater at her neck, she pinched her cheeks and pulled on her stockings, securing them with a ribbon above her knees. Hair artfully styled with two thick ringlets draping her neck, she pinned the ribbon Caroline had gifted her up and through the curls atop her head.

  She reached for the gown, running her fingers over the small, delicate flowers embroidered at the edges. Exquisite. Almost too beautiful to wear. She grinned. Almost.

  Once on, panniers perfectly placed and stomacher pinned, Hannah stared at herself in the mirror. How many years had it been since she had felt this beautiful? Her lips pulled upward, her smile unable to fully release the humble joy, the fullness of peace that stroked her from the inside. ’Twas not the gown that made her feel so. ’Twas love. The love of and for a man she’d longed for since her youth.

  Lord, how do I repay thee for such happiness?

  She sniffed away the brimming tears and opened her drawer, reaching in the back for the pearls Ensign had given her, when a knock tapped at the door.

  “Hannah?”

  Her pulse jumped at the sound of Joseph’s voice, and she looked one last time in the mirror before going to the door.

  She gripped the handle, holding her breath, aching as she tried not to show her longing—the need to see his eyes widen and lips stretch when he saw her. Twisting the handle, she pulled. The space between door and wall grew, their eyes meeting at the smallest opening. Her mouth went dry as his gaze combed over her. He put his hand on the door, pushing it open, slow and commanding.

  His throat bobbed, and she could see his pulse throbbing in his neck. “You look beautiful.” Voice soft, he stepped in, eyes all over her. “So beautiful, in fact, I do not wish you to go.”

  Heat crept over her cheeks and she ducked her head. “Joseph…I don’t know how to thank you.” She looked up. “’Tis such a grand gift, and I have nothing to—”

  “You gave me your consent.” He stepped closer. “That is all I have ever wanted.” Reaching for her curls, his silken timbre caressed her skin. “A wedding dress. I am glad you approve.”

  “Approve?” She glanced down, the gown looking even more magnificent from that angle. “’Tis beautiful…” Her words trailed away as God’s gentle nudging brought to mind the miracle she had cradled and buried. And how desperately she must reveal all to the man she loved.

  The sound of the parlor door opening and closing made them both jerk.

  “Miss Young?” Stockton carried too much eagerness in his rough voice.

  Was it four already?

  She swallowed, glancing to Joseph before speaking toward the open door. “I’ll be right down.”

  Facing Joseph, she bemoaned the time that had slipped away. She’d wanted to tell him about their child before she’d left—unburden her spirit before the night’s labors, in hopes her mind and body would have greater endurance for what awaited. But God knew when was best. She must trust in that.

  Resting those thoughts aside, she held out the pearls, her hands trembling too much for her to tie the ribbon. “Would you?”

  Joseph nodded, enclosing her hand in his as he took the necklace. His expression grew soft, and he smoothed his rough thumb against her skin, his voice a warm cloak around her worries. “You’re trembling.”

  Hannah sighed and looked away, detesting the truth that shamed her. “I’m afraid.”

  “You needn’t be.” Gently, he tugged
her body against his, nuzzling his nose beside her ear before whispering. “I shall be—”

  “Miss Young? Are you ready?”

  Suddenly her throat forgot its function. Swallowing, even speaking, was too difficult. Joseph’s gaze gripped her, infusing courage through her as he’d done so many times before. She released a shuddered breath and closed her eyes. For Ensign. For the cause.

  For our future.

  She turned without allowing herself the chance to look back, for if she did, the fragile strength she carried might slip from her fingers and shatter at her feet. Snatching her crimson cloak and muff from her bed, she stepped down the stairs, anticipating the look Stockton would give her with as much glee as one might a fall in an icy pool.

  Finally below, she offered him only a fleeting glance. ’Twas enough to have both her suspicion and sickness confirmed. Stockton’s face went slack, and his eyes devoured her with ravenous hunger. Her skin crawled, and any appetite she might have had fled in the face of such revolting lechery.

  He neared, reaching for her cloak. “Allow me.”

  In character as she was, she allowed him. Gloved hands reached from behind, placing the cloak around her shoulders and lingering there too long, draping slightly down her arms before he moved around to face her. “Miss Young, you are a vision.”

  “You are too kind, Major.” She ducked away just as Joseph descended.

  “The barrels are loaded, sir.”

  Stockton looked up and nodded. “Excellent. You deliver at seven.”

  “Aye, sir. All is in readiness.”

  Stockton’s mouth bowed up in approval before he moved on. “We shall not be back until morning.”

  Joseph bowed in response, a soft grin masking any emotion he might have felt—all but polite understanding. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves.”

  “I assure you we shall.” Stockton extended his elbow to Hannah, and she took it, grinning as she knew he wished her to, unable to bring herself to look at Joseph for fear her wanting of him would slip through her eyes.

  At the door, she stopped when her empty hand reminded her of its lost companion. “Oh…I’ve forgotten my fan.”