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

by Amber Lynn Perry

  My darling.

  Hannah closed her eyes, feeling the very fissures in her heart mend at his words. He had always loved her. He hadn’t left her for lack of wanting—but for lack of knowing.

  And ’twas all her father’s doing.

  A whimper of sorrow echoed through her throat, and she gripped him tighter, when suddenly he reached behind and unhooked her arms from his back. Her face scrunched, pleading that this gesture did not bode ill news. She could not bear it. But there was a promise tucked in his grin, and the sudden cramp in her brow eased when he spoke.

  “Do you think we can begin again?”

  She turned her head in question. “What do you mean?”

  In a swift motion he curled a finger in his waistcoat pocket, an ache in his angled expression. Slowly, he raised his hand, revealing the ring he had made for her so long ago.

  Her eyes burned, and she flung a hand to her mouth.

  “Come away with me tonight.” He moved closer, circling his other hand around her ear to cup her face. “We can at last be married and begin the life we wished for ourselves.”

  Hannah blinked the moisture away, straining to speak against the heated stone in her throat. She was consumed. So consumed with love, surely she could live forever on the life it gave. While deeper, a blackening sorrow brewed. How could Philo have done this? He might have despised their impetuous youth, their sin, but how could a man take it upon himself to destroy the lives of anyone, let alone his own child?

  Joseph brushed her cheek with his thumb. “We are done now—no more spying. No more secrets. Our future awaits us.” Gently, he took her hand and slid the warmed ring over her finger as if ’twas a reverent act. “Your father will never come between us again.”

  He swooped his head down and captured her mouth with his, and she responded, pressing against him, when the note in her stays burned her skin like a singe from heaven, and she pulled away.

  “What is it?” Worry bit into his face. “You have not changed your mind?”

  “Nay, I…” She turned from him to pull the paper free from her bosom, then whirled back. “I meant to give this message to you earlier, but I was so distraught, I…”

  He took the missive and read it, the tick in his jaw indicating he understood the gravity of the intelligence even deeper than she. He refolded it. “The Patriots need this.”

  “I know. Forgive me.” Had her mistake cost the lives of her friends? Or would God grant them another chance? “What can we do?”

  Ducking his head, Joseph kissed her again, his mouth warm with vows of more yet to come. “This last missive we will take on our journey away. Then our lives will be our own. Come.”

  He stepped back and took her hand in his, when a voice outside the hall sent a shiver down Hannah’s spine.

  Nay. Their lives would never be their own.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “A fine evening for such an occasion.”

  Philo sipped the drink he’d acquired and attempted menial conversation while Stockton stared in bitter silence at the way Joseph and Hannah moved in effortless grace around the dance floor.

  Stockton answered in a toneless hum before taking a drink. Jealousy was never difficult to detect, but this man’s was blatant. Perfect for manipulation.

  Shifting his feet, Philo took an even more casual stance and tossed the other officer a smile before speaking. “I must say I am quite surprised they are able to endure each other’s company so well.”

  Stockton snapped at the bait. “How do you mean?”

  Philo shrugged, encasing himself in the most fatherly tone he could. He tilted his head and shook it slightly, as if he regarded the past as only a minor impediment, not a sheer-sided precipice he must scale to attain his goal. “Youth, you know. Many years ago Joseph loved Hannah and tried to win her, but I helped her see the error of him as a choice.” He slid a quick glance to Stockton, whose face was pinched with question, so he went on. “I do not like him at the property. I should feel more comfortable if I were there in place of him. I could oversee anything as well as he, and then Hannah would not be at his mercy.”

  “I did not know this.” Stockton’s tone gained a level of piqued animation. “They said nothing of—”

  “And of course I am sure Joseph prodded her not to mention it. No doubt he brought her to Eaton Hill with the intent of wooing her again.” Diving ever deeper in the pool he filled, Philo sighed, eyebrows pinched up. “I have been considering it since you informed me of the situation, and I cannot say it sits well with me. As her father I cannot help but—”

  Stockton cut the air with his hand, his stare gouging through the crowd.

  God himself could not have organized a more flawless chronology. Escaping the dance floor was Hannah with Joseph at her heels. Philo’s chest lifted and lowered with gaining bliss. Perfect.

  Jutting his drink toward his officer, Stockton moved forward. “I should like to see what—”

  “Sir.”

  Stockton whirled, his nostrils flared. “What, Higley?”

  “Did Major Pitman tell you about Lieutenant Greene?”

  His brow plunged. “Cannot this wait?”

  The soldier shook his head apologetically. “I meant to tell you earlier, but—”

  “Well?” Not even a shred of patience filtered Stockton’s voice.

  Philo looked to the door of the ballroom. Joseph and Hannah were gone, but to where was unknown.

  Higley motioned sideways. “He was seen in town and is believed to be about some business—”

  “What business? I told him to stay in Sandwich.” Stockton growled and swore under his breath. “How long has Pitman known?” Again he swore and marched forward. “Never mind. I have more urgent —”

  “He might be the informant.”

  This stalled him. Philo again glanced to the door, his muscles ticking. He’d nearly had him. Blast. If this man were not so intent on speaking…

  Stockton turned to fully face the one who’d borne the news. “How do you know this? Has Pitman sent for his arrest?”

  “It seems he fled.”

  “Fled? Impossible.” Jaw working, he whirled, scanning the ballroom. “Where is Pitman?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  Without even a second glance, Stockton marched from the room, storming across Philo’s carefully laid trail. He inhaled, neck cording. This was not meant to be. He was supposed to throw Joseph out, banish him from Eaton Hill—place him in charge.

  Then like a glimmer of light in the center of his mind, a thought was born. Perhaps there was still a chance.

  Stockton plowed through the doors, then to the right. Philo followed but went left down the long, wide hall.

  From the nearest doorway, light spilled over the carpet. As he approached, the sound of voices rustled the air, and he hurried forward, then slowed when he was within inches of the opening.

  Back pressed against the wall, he turned his head just so, and the two of them came into perfect view. He dulled his hearing to all but their hushed words. That ignoble man would think to—

  Philo’s thoughts skidded to a jerking halt when Joseph pulled something from his pocket and spoke in such tender tones Philo could almost believe the man was sincere. If he didn’t know the deeper depravities of Joseph’s soul, he might have been convinced—certainly any woman would be.

  “Come away with me tonight.” Joseph neared her until their bodies nearly touched, one hand at her face. “We can at last be married and begin the life we wished for ourselves.”

  Liar!

  Rage clawed through Philo’s muscles, and were it not for his need to know more before he acted, he would have charged through the room and tackled the imbecile. Philo might not have been a perfect father, but hadn’t he taught her enough to be wary of such men?

  As Hannah gazed at Joseph, eyes shimmering and expression so full of longing, something faraway in Philo’s mind stirred. A memory, so many years hidden, rustled beneath the du
st and cobwebs of forced forgetfulness until his heart quivered. Mariah. That was how his wife had looked at him when they had first twined their hearts and their hands. That same longing and hope he’d buried with half his soul when he’d placed her in the ground.

  He blinked to be sure he hadn’t imagined the look on his daughter’s face. Nay. She couldn’t feel love. They were living in sin.

  Joseph’s voice grew quieter, and Philo had to strain to hear him.

  “We are done now—no more spying. No more secrets. Our future awaits us.”

  Spying?

  Philo glanced away, his pulse thundering. Could Joseph be the informant Stockton and the other soldier searched for?

  All such thoughts fled when Joseph began again, and Philo flicked his vision toward them, his stomach at his feet.

  “Your father will never come between us again.”

  Philo scoffed inwardly. He thought to take her away, hmm?

  A scuffle at the front of the hall tugged at him, and he craned his head back. Several soldiers rushed in the front doors, their voices taut and animated. Stockton and Pitman appeared, each with rigid backs and wide feet. Something was wrong. Philo spun around to the two he spied as Hannah handed Joseph a note. Joseph’s eyes narrowed, and his brow plunged low.

  “The Patriots need this.”

  The voices at the other end of the hall increased, and three words met his ears. Raid. Patriots. Spies.

  Stunned, Philo’s mind lunged for the first thought and clung to it. He stepped away and pointed at the library, yelling. “Here! He’s here! The spy you’re looking for is here!”

  Every man at the front of the hall spun toward him, and he ran two steps into the room. “You cannot escape now.”

  Hannah’s face went white, hate spewing from her eyes before she turned to Joseph and pointed to the window. “Go!”

  Joseph’s face crunched. “I won’t leave you.”

  She rushed to the window and grunted as she pulled the pane upward. At her side in seconds, Joseph shook his head. “I can’t―”

  “There!”

  A brush of wind moved past Philo as the soldiers rushed in.

  “Go!” Hannah’s voice screeched through the room. Agony bled through Joseph’s face. Ducking, he leapt from the window as the soldiers dashed across the room.

  Shoulders straight, Hannah seemed heedless of the commotion, the yelling. Her stare gripped Philo at the throat, saying far more than her voice ever could.

  Philo’s limbs went weak. He had done right, hadn’t he?

  Stockton rushed forward, bumping Philo as he barreled into the room. “Where is he?”

  Another soldier hurried to him, pointing to the window. “He escaped.”

  Stockton’s voice boomed like cannon fire, his face as scarlet as his coat. “Go after him!”

  The two others raced from the room, and Philo dared a question. “What’s happened?”

  “There’s been a raid.” Unmoving, Stockton stared at Hannah. “The Patriots somehow knew of the stores and would have taken them all had not one of my men followed a hunch and gone to check.”

  Hannah’s throat moved, but her chin was raised in pretended surprise. “How would they have known?”

  Stockton moved a single step forward. “I should like for you to tell me that, Miss Young.”

  Philo’s stomach pinched. The man wouldn’t do anything to her, would he? ’Twas Joseph he was supposed to suspect.

  Dainty eyebrows pinched, she shook her head unconvincingly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Do you not?”

  Stockton spun on his heel and went to the hall, his thundering voice flickering the candles. “Higley!”

  In seconds the man was bounding toward them. “Aye, sir?”

  “Stay here while I go see about this raid—and apprehending Joseph.”

  “Sir—”

  The man’s words were put short by Stockton’s cutting motion. “Stay here and guard these two until I get back.”

  Stockton stormed down the hall, yelling commands as the soldiers rallied to attention.

  Philo’s pulse still raced, but it charged even quicker at Higley’s sharp glare.

  Higley pointed to the room. “In.”

  Was Philo’s loyalty to be questioned now too?

  Hurrying forward, Philo made it to the center of the room before the heat in Hannah’s glare became so hot he could go no farther. Still beside the window, she stared at him, chest rising and falling, lips pinched white.

  “What have you done?” The cry that left her splintered the air with a thousand pains.

  What did she think? That he’d done it to spite her? A burning started in his core and moved outward. He braved a step forward. “I act when I deem it right, and what I saw was—”

  “When you deem it right?” Her chin quivered. “All you have ever done is attempt to pull us apart.”

  “For your good.”

  “For your good, not mine.”

  Supported by his foundation of righteousness, Philo spit through his reply. “Since the beginning you have been too foolish to see past that man’s wickedness. So much so you allowed yourself to be dragged through the muck along with him, and I refuse to have my daughter—”

  “You tried to protect me, did you?” Her voice went eerily calm while her exterior quivered. “You thought that making either of us believe such falsehoods would in some way shield me from a life of grief?”

  Aye. At last it seemed she understood. But the hate in her stare said otherwise.

  Philo flung a glance to Higley, wishing the man would stand outside the hall while the two of them spoke, but from the strength of his stance, ’twas clear the man was going nowhere.

  Shaking his head, Philo stepped forward. “You do not understand my struggle because you have not loved a child of your own.”

  Her face went slack.

  There. He’d caught her. “If you had, you would know the weight of feeling you had done all you could and still failed.”

  Eyes instantly red, she reached for the chair beside her. Her quivering increased, and she licked her lips. “You did not do all you could. Had you done so, you would not have shunned me from town. You would not have hated me for my transgression so much that you refused to see me.”

  He hadn’t hated her. Not in the way she thought. Philo’s mind floundered against the rising tide. He hadn’t meant to—

  “I told you I was sorry.” Volume rising, Hannah’s voice wobbled as much as her chin. “I craved your love and forgiveness.” She paused, tears streaming over her cheeks. “If you loved me as you claim, you would have been there for me as Ensign and Bea had been when I bore and buried Joseph’s child!”

  Impaled, Philo stared, blinking as the pain started in his gut and bled over the rest of him. She could not be in earnest. Dear God, it could not be so. “You never told me this.”

  Face crumpled, she turned her back to him. “I never wanted to.”

  Was it true? He flung a look to the soldier who stood with them, peering at Philo with the same disdain he felt from even the portrait over the fire.

  Philo faced her, scrambling for a scrap of dignity in the rubble of his broken spirit. “Why didn’t Joseph return for you then? If he was as good a man as you claim—”

  “He would have if he had known.” She whirled back around, her expression hard. “He was led to believe I hated him, and I was led to believe he wanted nothing more to do with me, so he learned of it only today, as you have.” She paused, inhaling an unsteady breath that cracked Philo’s bones. “I have had this pressing on my heart for so many years. I believed my life would be spent alone, until once again God brought into my life the only man I have ever loved, and once again you have stripped him from me!”

  “Hannah…I am so sorry.” Barren and lost, Philo shook his head, his mouth and mind dry as a desert plain. “Hannah, I…I hadn’t meant to hurt you.”

  “But you had meant Eaton Hill for yourself.” Tear
s easing, she dabbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand, anger lacing both ends of her words. “Do not think me ignorant of your central desire. Still, I had a part of me that craved your goodwill, that hoped perhaps you wished to be close to me, but you have slayed that now. I should learn never to dream of things that are impossible.”

  The blade of her confession stabbed through Philo’s spirit, and it fell to the ground, knees bent and hunching while the rest of him stayed rigid. This was not what he had wanted. He had wanted Eaton Hill, aye, had wanted Joseph away, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt the daughter he loved. Like a haunting remembrance, Ensign’s words preached from the pulpit of his memory. She yearns for your love. But…there is much you do not know of her. She has lost a great deal.

  Taking quick shallow breaths, Philo’s sins berated him, beating away the hard covering of pride with every stroke until finally the humble center of him glowed through.

  Ensign had been right. These many years when he’d thought himself so noble, ’twas he who had been dishonorable.

  Dear God, what have I done?

  Philo reached forward, too fearful of upsetting her further to take another step. “Hannah…Hannah, I…” He stopped. What could he say that she would believe? He prayed God would give him strength—that He would help turn her ear to him. “Forgive me, my child. I see now that I was wrong. Please, I wish to make it up to you.”

  Hannah’s gaze raised to his as a slight breath left her mouth. “’Tis too late.” Her eyes shifted to Higley before returning to Philo with the force of a winter gale. “You have taken from me the man that I love and sentenced him to death.”

  “No.” A violent resistance overtook him. “No, he will—”

  “If he is caught, he will be killed, and I would rather lose my own life alongside him than be doomed to live the remainder of my days without him!”

  Wailing and gnashing, the demons of Philo’s actions swirled around him. There must be a way to make this right. Joseph was strong, was he not? He could outrun his pursuers. But if not, and if the note were found, these men would do more than hang him…

  Philo’s body scalded with the need to act. Wounds began to open in his gut, as if somehow he were feeling for the first time what she had felt—the wounds he had inflicted upon her. He must atone. He must show her his devotion, his change. His love.