The Patriot and the Loyalist

by Angela K Couch

  His voice followed her out. “What was that about?”

  Hopefully he would never know.

  Lydia left the carriage for Charles. She preferred to walk, the thought of sitting a moment longer unbearable. She walked as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. Her legs itched to run when she breached the edge of the grove, but she held herself back, slowing her steps. She couldn’t rush in without being prepared.

  Nothing had changed. Major Layton had invested interest, and she would be unwise to underestimate what he was capable of if angered. He did not strike her as a man who made idle threats. Meanwhile, Daniel was still her best chance at gaining passage to England and her grandparents cottage—the life she wanted. She couldn’t let her guard down. She had to rein in her racing heart.

  Lydia saw the horse first, the gelding Major Layton had provided. And then Daniel’s form rose from where she had sat the evening before against the massive trunk. Her lungs emptied. He was alive and well. Her legs momentarily forgot her bidding. Especially as a grin spread across his face.

  “My message found you.” He turned his head to the side and released a short cough, as though to clear his throat. A great improvement from the chesty hacking he’d left with.

  “Yes, I saw your note. Why did you not come earlier?”

  Though his smile had slipped away, his eyes remained bright. “You waited?”

  “You told Eli Sunday last, but when you did not come, I…” She shrugged away any further explanation.

  Daniel frowned. “I do hope you weren’t angry with Eli for helping me. I convinced him it was in your best interest.”

  “I admit to being somewhat frustrated. He should have inquired with me first.”

  Daniel looked at her pointedly. “I suppose he usually begs your permission for everything he does.” The edge of his voice sliced between his teeth. “Eli is a good, intelligent man who followed his conscience. In order to keep you safe, no less. Can you fault him for that? Perhaps if you saw him as a man, instead of an heirloom—”

  “Of course I see him as a man.”

  “Do you?” Daniel’s jaw relaxed, but he shook his head. “Did you know that Mr. Jefferson wanted to declare freedom for all men when he wrote our Declaration of Independence from Britain? No man should be enslaved, not by a king or his neighbor.”

  Lydia bit back the need to retort—to tell him there were some things he couldn’t possibly understand. She cared deeply for Eli, and his life was with her family, as it always had been.

  “Forgive me.” Daniel groaned. “I did not come here with the intention of starting another war.” His eyes took on a new intensity, but with no trace of anger. Quite the opposite. “I have no desire to oppose you, even with words.”

  “You—” Her voice cracked. She cleared it. “You still have not told me what kept you?”

  Daniel smiled, looking just as eager to redirect their conversation. “Colonel Marion insisted I give my ankle time to mend. I guess he’s had some experience in the past. But not coming near drove me mad.” The side of his fist beat out a steady rhythm against his thigh. “Especially at the thought of you waiting.”

  “At least you are alive. How was I supposed to know what happened to you? Over two weeks and no word?” More frustration tightened around her voice than she’d intended.

  He only smiled. Insufferable man.

  “Your foot seems better.”

  “Much.” Daniel took a step nearer, a limp apparent despite his obvious efforts to ignore his ankle. “Though quite sore after riding most of the night.”

  A tiny spark ignited somewhere in her chest. Lydia quickly doused it. She had to stay focused. The longer her absence from the house, the greater Charles would suspect she had lied to him, and there was only one reason for her meeting with Daniel. “Where were you? I need to know.”

  ~*~

  The look of pleading in those blue orbs flecked with green did something to Daniel’s gut he hadn’t experienced in a while. Even his chest felt a little strange, as if his heart was constricting, yet so full in the same instant. “North of here.” Did she want directions? “Why?”

  “You vanished for two whole weeks without a word. What if I had news—important news?”

  “Do you have news? What are the British planning?”

  “Nothing that I know of, but that could change all too quickly. I would feel better if I knew where you were.”

  Daniel could understand her desire, but how would she send him a message? He would have to find someone closer who could relay it to Marion’s camp. Letting her ride through the swamps was not an option. “Let me think about it, and I’ll come up with something. Meet me back here next Sunday evening. Every Sunday if I can make it.” A perfect excuse to see her. “Until we make other arrangements, anything you find out, I’ll pass to Colonel Marion.” Daniel was not in a hurry to replace himself.

  Lydia’s hands jerked into the air. “Why can you not tell me where you will be?”

  “I don’t want you to risk yourself.”

  “Any risk I take is nothing to what you face.” Her voice gained a measure of control as her dark lashes lowered over her eyes. “I am…I am more worried about you.”

  “I see that, and I can’t tell you what that means to me.” Daniel extended his hand to her arm until his fingers hovered near her elbow. “Lydia…” He stopped himself. He’d made such a fool of himself with Rachel. All she’d wanted was a good neighbor, a friend. What if that was all Lydia felt for him as well? Friendship.

  Completely sobered, Daniel withdrew. Silence hung between them, screaming the truth of it.

  She would likely never love him any more than Rachel had.

  “Mr. Reid.”

  He looked at her.

  “Daniel.”

  Again silence. His ankle throbbed as he forced himself to reverse a step.

  “Daniel…I want to know you are safe. When I hear about skirmishes over dinner, Major Layton and the other officers gloating, how will I know if you were there, if you are all right. If I knew where you were, your movements, I will not be left in the dark...worrying.”

  “But would it be safe?”

  She looked at him, but only briefly. “Nothing about this war is safe.”

  Daniel fought the urge to wrap her in his arms. “I know. And I admire you for your bravery. Your strength. Your passion for our freedom from Britain. Not to mention…you are so beautiful.” Heat coursed through him. What was he doing? Was he fool enough to give his heart so freely? The answer came easily as her blue eyes widened at him. He might die a fool, but he wouldn’t die a coward.

  ~*~

  Beautiful? The way he looked at her, open and honest, his dark irises ablaze with affection. And desire.

  God, help me, please.

  Daniel Reid, her rebel pawn, was falling in love with her. Lydia had seen the beginning of interest, attraction even, but she was unprepared for this. What sort of fool was this man? He had no thought of her higher station, all their other obvious differences, or even the short duration of their acquaintance. And yet, this was all her doing. She had led him to believe she cared. Behold, her success. She had no choice but to use his affections, or Major Layton would demand she betray Daniel to him. What would become of her rebel sergeant then?

  Lydia pressed her palm against the firm ribbing bracing her midsection. Perhaps she had again cinched her stays too tight. Surely that explained her shortness of breath. “Daniel, I…” She needed to step back, to consider how to best to proceed. She also needed to arrive back at the house before Charles. Most of all, she needed Major Layton to give her more time. “I cannot stay longer, but I want you to promise me you will meet me again. Here. As soon as you can.”

  He nodded. “And if all else fails, next Sunday evening.” Daniel’s hand slipped to hers, callused, but warm, as he brought her knuckles to his lips, and pressed an even warmer kiss over them. A sheepish smile stretched across his face when he released her.
<
br />   Her spine prickled with guilt. But she returned a smile—at least her best attempt of one. “I should go.” What am I doing? What am I doing? Lydia’s mind raced faster than her feet back into town. She glimpsed the carriage arriving at the front of the house and darted through the back door to cast her cloak aside. She somehow managed to compose herself by the time she reached the main hall.

  Charles entered moments later. “Ah, you are home.” He removed his gloves. “I paused at the milliners in case you wanted a ride, but you had already left. I should like to see your new hat.”

  “It did not turn out the way I wanted. Hence my brief stay.” More lies. It seemed what her life had been reduced to.

  His stare burned. “How unfortunate.”

  “Rather. Now, if you will excuse me, this morning has been rather busy. I want to rest before dinner.”

  “Please.” Charles motioned to the stairway. “Do not let me keep you.”

  As Lydia ascended, the affection and hope on Daniel’s handsome face joined the image of Charles’s suspicion. When she had first been told of her inheritance in England, it had seemed such a simple thing to leave and start a new life. How had she managed to weave such a tangled and binding web?

  19

  Though now December, Lydia climbed from the carriage into brilliant sunshine. As much as she longed to linger in the light, the day was spent, leaving her only a few minutes to go upstairs and make herself presentable for supper. She tightened her grip on the package containing her new hat, purchased for the sake of putting to rest Charles’s suspicions, and quickened her steps.

  Five days and no word from Daniel. Lydia did not look forward to confronting Major Layton, but she could no longer avoid him. She had to convince the major to grant her more time, though she had little to offer him.

  Lydia entered the house, stopping short at the sight of Charles. He leaned against the wall, hands braced and ear cocked toward his office. She closed the front door and he jerked around, his Adam’s apple dropping low, eyes widening.

  “Char—?”

  His hand hushed her as he lunged forward and caught her arm. Without a word, he dragged her to the dining room.

  “What is going on, Charles?”

  He released her to straighten his coat and cravat. “I did not want you to disturb Major Layton. He is meeting with his officers.”

  Lydia took a step back to eye him. “And you are standing sentinel to keep everyone hushed?”

  The short laugh sounded out of place on his lips. “I admit to some curiosity. This is our home, our community, and I like to know what to expect.”

  “And?” Though probably as simple as that, sneaking around in the woods in an attempt to glean information from a rebel made her search the shadows for conspiracy. “What should we expect?”

  “Nothing. From what I hear, the focus of the war is moving to North Carolina. All is well in Georgetown. For now.”

  “For now?” The ominous tone of his last words seeped into her. “Why do you say that?”

  “This war is far from over.” His lips tightened. “And the Swamp Fox is not going anywhere.”

  “For now.” Her conversations with Daniel spilled guilt through her. If only she could put this war, this colony, and that man behind her. “Do you know if Major Layton will be much longer?”

  “I do not imagine so. But he has requested supper to be served a half hour late to accommodate him and his officers.”

  “Who will also be joining us?”

  Charles nodded, and then glanced to the tote she held. “Is that…?”

  “The hat I wanted.” Lydia had more time than expected to prepare for the meal, but she had no desire to spend another minute of it with Charles. “I should hurry and dress.” She hastened past him. She shut herself in her bedchamber and leaned into the door before noticing the bolt lock residing above the handle. It had not been there this morning.

  Molly arrived a few minutes later with a fresh pitcher full of water and to help her with the ties of her gown. Lydia pushed aside thoughts of Charles’s eavesdropping. She needed to decide how to approach Major Layton. If he didn’t give her more time, and she kept her side of their agreement, she would have no choice but to tell the major where Daniel would be Sunday night and allow the major to set a trap. But then what would become of Daniel Reid?

  The man was a fool, too eager to give his heart. Had he not learned his lesson from the woman he had told her of? Lydia swallowed back a wave of nausea. If Major Layton refused to give her more time, Daniel would likely end up in one of the British prisons he so feared, and if she succeeded in extending their agreement, would it not be her task to strip Daniel of his heart? To make him fear to trust? To fear love? Which would be worse? Was there another option? There had to be.

  As Molly tightened the laces over Lydia’s stomacher, Lydia looked back at the door bolt. “Do you know who ordered the lock placed on my door?”

  “I don’t, miss. Eli put it there, though.”

  Lydia arrived for dinner shortly after the officers.

  Charles stood with them as she entered. He smiled and nodded as though to remind her to keep his secret.

  The next hour passed as a haze of conversation. She barely took note of what was served, barely ate more than a bite or two.

  Charles finished first and excused himself to see to business at the docks.

  Lydia waited.

  Finally, Major Layton emptied his glass of wine and stood. “We had best return to our discussions.” He paused while the other six men in uniform set their napkins and drinks aside. He followed them out.

  Lydia came behind him. She could wait no longer. “May I have a quick word with you, Major?”

  He paused. “Where is my horse?”

  “That is what I wish to discuss with you.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” He waved the other officers into the study. “I shall join you in a minute.”

  They disappeared inside and closed the door.

  “I was beginning to think I’d forfeited a horse to the enemy for no reason. I had even planned a rather unpleasant conversation with your brother-in-law.” Layton folded his arms across his chest. “I need not remind you that you have agreed to turn the rebel over to me.”

  “I am aware of that, but I’ve hardly had a chance with him recovering in a swamp somewhere. I need more time.”

  “As much as I would love to accommodate my curiosity of what sort of information you would be able to get from him, if any, I no longer have that luxury.” Urgency grated his tone. “The battlefield is moving to North Carolina and with it more men, leaving Georgetown vulnerable to Colonel Marion if he comes against us.”

  “I can get you that information, Major. I know I can.”

  “Three weeks and you give me nothing. I am afraid, Miss Reynolds, you have no other usefulness than to tell me where and when to find the rebel. I shall proceed with my own methods.”

  “Two more days. I cannot promise you the Swamp Fox himself, but if I have sufficient information about the rebels’ camps and their movements, with a guarantee of more, you will give me a little more time. That is all I ask.”

  Layton ground his teeth, glancing to the door of the room where his men waited. “Sunday night, you bring me more than a whimsical fantasy or this conversation is over, and I shall begin ones with your brother-in-law and your rebel.”

  ~*~

  The next two days were torture. Lydia excused herself early from dinner Sunday, stole out the back door, and made a direct course toward the old oak.

  There he sat, just as promised. Dusk gathered, but Daniel’s face lighted upon seeing her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier.” He stood. “My ankle was slow to forgive the rigors of my last visit, and Colonel Marion is quite determined I let it heal.”

  “How is your foot now?”

  His stride betrayed the remains of a limp, but he shrugged. “Better.”

  Good. But now to the reasons she had come. For both
their sakes, she needed something to appease the British. “Major Layton said they have not seen as much of the Swamp Fox of late. Word is, only a few skirmishes. Has Colonel Marion settled in a more permanent camp for winter?”

  A laugh broke from Daniel’s throat. “In the middle of a swamp north of here. I hate alligators.”

  “Alligators?”

  “Aye. Riding past them, wondering if there is one you don’t see.” He continued toward her. “I’d rather face a bear or wolf any day.”

  She’d rather avoid them all. “Which swamp area? In which parish?”

  One last step landed him directly in front of her, his broad chest only inches away.

  Lydia couldn’t very well back down with Daniel close to giving her information she needed, so she tried to ignore the way his dark gaze searched hers.

  “One much too far from here,” he said.

  “How far?”

  “If we were closer, I couldn’t have stayed away so long.”

  Lydia turned away, refraining from wrapping her fingers around his neck and giving a good shake. She should have known the man incapable of providing a straight answer to any of her questions. He left her no options and that realization sank deep into her stomach, making her ill.

  “I’m doing it again.”

  The mixture of both apology and frustration in Daniel’s voice made her glance at him.

  The muscles danced in his jaw as his eyes clouded. “I’m doing exactly what I did last time and with the same effect. Perhaps I am daft.”

  Lydia shook her head at him. “What are you talking about?”

  ~*~

  Something in her expression triggered memories Daniel had thought long buried. The surprise. The guilt. The trapped look that Rachel had also worn when he’d asked to court her, and again when he’d proposed marriage. At the time, he’d tried to ignore it, tried to imagine her reaction had nothing to do with him. But then he had seen the way Rachel looked at her British captain.

  Daniel could no longer claim ignorance.