Faithfully Yours

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Maybe, but I had not meant to frighten you. When you drew in breath to scream, I realized you did not know that I had seen you walking in this direction and decided to catch up with you.” He laughed deep in his throat. “I couldn’t think of a better way for you to recognize me.”

  “You—you—”

  “Come, Faith,” he said in that reasonable tone that added to her irritation, “surely you can devise some insult worthy of me.”

  “No words would suffice. You broke your vow to me.”

  “My vow?”

  “That you would not be like your fellow soldiers and try to seduce me without my permission.”

  “If you do not know the difference between a teasing kiss and an attempt at seduction, maybe you should learn.”

  Faith shoved her mussed hair back under her mob-cap. “Not today, and not from you.” She hoped her anger would hide the way her heart thudded at the thought of telling him to teach her all she could learn in his arms. “Why don’t you use your British skill at lying and tell me a tale of why you followed me as if I am a rebel soldier? It is certain to be engrossing, even though I doubt a word of it will be true.”

  “Some of it would be true, Faith,” he said, weaving another strand of her hair beneath her cap, “for it would be a tale of a lovely American lass who cannot trust an Englishman but so thrilled him with a single kiss that he aches for another.”

  “Fine words.” She pushed his hand away and continued along the road.

  “Terse again, I see,” Sebastian called after her. “You are nothing as I expected a colonist to be.”

  “How so?” When she turned and discovered him standing too close, she gasped, backing away. “Must you always sneak up on me?”

  “Sneak up on you? I was talking to you.”

  “Why are you out here instead of with your brother?”

  “Gaylord is sleeping, and I need some fresh air.” He took her arm, settling her hand in the crook of his elbow, and walked with her along the road. “When I saw you going out to feed the pigs, I knew I would not get any fresh air there. The sty is a place I have always avoided.”

  “Which should be easy to do in London.”

  “But not when I was working on a farm.”

  “You worked on a farm?” She shook her head. “You are jesting with me now.”

  “To the contrary. It is the truth. My father’s estate has many tenant farms attached to it. I have spent many summer afternoons toiling on one or another.” He sat on the stone wall that separated the road from the woods and smiled up at her. “I found such hard work preferable to yet another afternoon of studying classical Greek poems.”

  “That is not the same. You did not need to do the work to put food on your family’s table.”

  Picking up a brown leaf, he twirled it between his fingers. “For someone who avers again and again that she is not a rebel, you most certainly have a rebel’s disdain for anything British. I am not sure why, because it is clear that you are a snob of the first order.”

  “Snob? Me?”

  “Yes. You think you are of a higher ilk because your father owns one farm that is worked by servants as well as his family. You look down your nose at my father, who owns more than one farm that is worked by servants as well as his family.”

  “You are making no sense.”

  “No?” He reached up and ran his fingertips along her nose. “Could it be that I am too fascinated by how you look down your nose? Your pretty eyes and pert nose and your beguiling smile make it difficult for me to concentrate on the course of this conversation.”

  “Then you need not linger.” Faith continued along the road.

  When Sebastian matched her steps, his jet-black cloak curved around her like an embrace. He did not touch her, but when she glanced at him, she saw the heat in his gaze had not diminished. He was giving her the choice to come back into his arms.

  Oh, how she wished she could! To be pressed against his unyielding chest now would be wondrous, because her fingers could slip beneath his loose shirt to satisfy her curiosity about whether his skin was as coarse as his hands.

  “Where are you bound?” she asked, trying to escape from her tempting thoughts.

  “I will walk with you as far as the crossroads, because I am meeting someone there.”

  “I probably should not ask whom you are meeting.”

  “You probably should not. I doubt if I am any more likely to answer that than you are to tell me why you are taking more gloves to the Mertz house.”

  “This is not for the Mertz family. I am taking it to Reverend McEachern for some of the children at church.”

  He smiled, but she heard no humor in his voice. He cupped her chin in his hands as his voice lowered to a husky whisper. “You seem determined not to let anything as inconvenient as this war halt you from your good works.”

  “I promised to make gloves and socks. I do not break promises.”

  “I hope that is a promise you can keep … to yourself. A war has a strange way of changing people’s assumptions about themselves and others.”

  Sebastian’s words repeated through Faith’s head after she left him at the crossroads and continued to the decrepit byre nearly a mile past it. He had not meant the words as a threat … Or had he? She must not let her own guilt discolor the words and actions of everyone around her.

  The wind was growing colder as Faith slipped into the byre. Before she could even look about, she heard, “Where have you been?”

  “I came as quickly as I could.”

  “Really?” Tom Rooke emerged from the thickest shadows and scowled. “You did not look as if you were in a great rush when he pulled you into his arms.”

  “You saw that? Are you spying on me?”

  He laughed sharply. “What are you doing that is worthy of being spied on? Letting a British major steal a kiss? That does not matter to me.” He raised his hand to halt her question. “I was watching to see if you might be meeting me today. Once I saw the basket you were carrying, I came here with all speed. I did not want to linger and watch you and that milord.”

  “You should not have been so close to our farm. Father would not like it if—”

  “I am well aware of Cromwell’s sentiments. What worries me are yours. Have you let Kendrick seduce you into telling him the truth of why you are carrying that basket today?”

  Faith set the basket on the floor and began to empty it. “Of course not. He walked with me only because he is determined to keep me from being accosted.”

  “By his fellow soldiers?”

  “There is no one else I need to fear here in Goshen.”

  Tom nodded grimly. “You are right. You need fear only the British soldiers, who are popping up faster than dandelions in the first days of spring.”

  “While they are here, they are not involved in mischief other places.”

  “I hear the major’s brother has taken up residence at your father’s house.”

  “Yes, but I suspect he will not stay once he is well enough to travel.” She smiled coolly. “He has said more than once that he finds our home too primitive for his taste.”

  “Is he returning to Philadelphia?”

  “With all possible speed.”

  “And with all possible information?”

  Faith shrugged. “I have no idea what information he might have—other than that about the powders that the doctor gave him to make him well.”

  “But—”

  “Tom, I have told you that I do not want to do anything but bring supplies for my neighbors fighting with General Washington. Asking me questions will gain you nothing, because no one has confided in me.”

  He scooped up the supplies she had brought and tied them in a knapsack. “But you are being watched.”

  “I cannot do anything about that.”

  “But you can.” He drew a pouch from beneath his tattered shirt. “Put this in the Englishmens’ ale the night before you meet me again.”

  She looke
d from the small bag to his smile. “What is it?”

  “Sleeping powder. It will keep them from following you.”

  She watched him as he began to pace through the barn, as he did each time she came here. “Adrat, Tom! No one is following me. Sebastian—”

  “You call him Sebastian?”

  “My father insists I address him so.” She did not lower her eyes before his fury, because he must not discover how she was stretching the truth. “Tom, what I call him matters little.”

  “You are right. What matters is that he does not follow you again.”

  “And find us.”

  He shook his head. “We do not matter. What do you bring me? Some mittens and a few pair of socks? Some bread? That is no reason to keep a full patrol here.”

  “No, because he is looking for information on the Continental Congress.”

  “But they do not ride west. They stay here.”

  She sank to sit on a rough stool. “I have heard the soldiers talk of how the rebellion will be over with the coming of the deepest cold in the new year because the soldiers will abandon General Washington to seek the comfort of their homes.”

  “These British milords think they know everything, but they do not know the men who have rallied around General Washington. They will not let cold weather daunt them. They proved that last year when they routed the British in Trenton.”

  “But the British hold Philadelphia this year, and the general’s men are camped outside it somewhere.”

  He pressed the pouch into her hand. “Use this the night before you come here next time. Major Kendrick and his men will sleep, and you will not be followed.” He glanced toward the door. “I hope I am not followed when I leave.”

  “Maybe you should remain here.”

  He laughed coldly. “I know you offered to bring supplies because you wanted to honor the memory of your friend who was killed in battle. Do not break that promise now.”

  Flinching, Faith came to her feet. She would have accused Tom of listening to her conversation with Sebastian. In the same tone she had used with Sebastian, she said, “I do not break promises.” She looked down at the pouch. “I will do my best to keep the reason why I come here from being discovered.”

  “See that you do.”

  “Or?”

  “Or you will see that those who betray us are sorry that they did.”

  Seven

  Sebastian threw the page onto the table in his room. He pushed past the table, which left very little room between the bed and the door. Glowering at the fire dancing merrily on the hearth, he cursed under his breath.

  “Bad news, sir?” asked Osborne without his usual insipid grin.

  “Only if you consider it bad that Burgoyne surrendered his men and supplies to the rebels somewhere in northern New York.” He looked down at the page that had been delivered to him from General Howe’s headquarters in Philadelphia. “A place called Saratoga, north of Albany. The rebels now are inspired by this victory, and it is feared that France will be, as well.”

  Osborne swore. “The Frenchie frogs should stay out of this.”

  “They should, but they have been itching for a chance to give England a black eye. Joining with these rebels might be the very way to do so.” Picking up the page, he read it again. The news did not get any better with another reading.

  How could Burgoyne have been so careless? He had carved a path down from Lake Champlain, cutting off the seditious colonies of New England from the southern ones. Then he had lost two battles—one in Bennington, the home of those rebels led by Ethan Allen and his so-called Green Mountain Boys, and this one in Saratoga—to the colonial army.

  “Is it true?” asked Gaylord as he came into the room. He set his stylish bicorne hat on the table. “The rebels defeated Burgoyne?”

  Sebastian glanced at Osborne, who hastily looked away. He should have guessed Osborne would have read the dispatch before delivering it. Worse, the lieutenant had not kept its contents to himself.

  “It is true,” Sebastian replied. “It takes only a single victory like this to revitalize the rebellion. We have seen that before.”

  Gaylord sniffed as he walked to the hearth to warm his hands. “The rebels will take heart from this, but they will lose their enthusiasm just as quickly. It does not matter either way. We will see them defeated.”

  Osborne cheered, but grew silent when Sebastian frowned.

  “We will not see them defeated if other generals are as imprudent as Burgoyne,” Sebastian replied.

  “General Howe is not. Sebastian, I must return to my company.”

  “You feel well enough?”

  “I was well enough to ride out with you yesterday when we checked the road to the west. I can take your report on what we discovered to Captain Williams. He—” He looked past Sebastian and scowled. Leaping toward the door, he reached out. “How long have you been lurking there?”

  When Gaylord pulled someone into the room, Sebastian was not surprised to see Faith. She was carrying a basket of clean laundry.

  “How long have you been lurking there?” Gaylord demanded again.

  Faith tugged her arm, but he did not release her. Reaching over Gaylord’s hand, Sebastian peeled his fingers off Faith’s arm.

  “Thank you,” Faith said, but her eyes flashed with anger. “I will continue with my chores now, unassaulted by you and your fellow soldiers.”

  Sebastian glared at his brother. With another sniff, Gaylord went back to the hearth. At the same time, Faith walked out of the room. A hushed chuckle came from where Osborne was witnessing the whole of this.

  Motioning at the door, Sebastian said, “Osborne, Gaylord, you are excused.”

  “If you want to be alone, so that you can call her back,” Gaylord said, walking toward the door, “all you need to do is say so. There is no need for you to order me about as if I am under your command.”

  “I need to write a message to send back to our superiors in Philadelphia,” he replied as Osborne went out into the corridor. The lieutenant would linger there, no doubt hoping to hear every word that was spoken within the room.

  Gaylord closed the door and faced Sebastian, his arms folded in front of him. “Will you tell them about a fair lass whose father is unfortunately a loyalist?”

  “Unfortunately? Cromwell has been a good host, and this farm is an excellent base for our explorations into the rebel-held areas.”

  “But a loyalist would be heeded if he complained about you and his daughter.”

  “I have no intention of giving Cromwell any cause to complain.”

  Gaylord chuckled. “What of his daughter? I have seen how she looks at you—with a soft gaze that suggests you need only ask and she is yours. Will she be sorry that you did not share this comfortable bed with her?”

  “That you can say that proves you do not know Faith well.”

  “Not as well as you do, I daresay.” Clasping Sebastian’s arm, he grinned. “I know you believe you have to uphold the family’s honor with every breath you take, but I know as well that any man with Kendrick blood in his veins cannot ignore such a beguiling gaze when it is aimed at him.”

  Sebastian laughed as he pulled off his coat and draped it over the foot of the bed. “Now I know you are well enough to return to your patrol. I had wondered how soon you would start speaking of the pursuit of a lady.”

  “I am not speaking of my pursuits, but yours. You are far from Kendrick Court, Sebastian. Who knows how long you will be stuck here in this cold and miserable place? With the victories by the rebels north of here, this war will last at least until spring.” He put his foot on the chest by the bed and rested his elbow on his knee. “You need not be cold this winter if you have such a lass to warm your bed.”

  “Beneath her father’s roof?” Sebastian shook his head. “That will never happen.”

  “You say never easily. I have seen that Cromwell is eager to have his eldest daughter in your company. How often in the few days I have been h
ere has he arranged for Mistress Faith to sit beside you? Do not ignore good fortune simply because it is convenient.”

  Slapping Gaylord on the arm, he said, “I look forward to trading tales with you when I see you next. Take care, little brother.”

  “You should do the same, Sebastian.”

  “I am out of the line of fire here.”

  “I was not speaking of that.” Gaylord picked up his hat and set it on his head. “Take care that you do not let your determination to gain Father’s favor keep you from enjoying Faith’s.”

  The door closed behind his brother. Sebastian scowled at it, but nothing would change the truth his brother had spoken. How easy it was for Gaylord to seek his pleasures, knowing that he did not have to live up to some ideal of what the Kendrick heir should be. Sebastian’s frown became a wry grin. It would not matter if Gaylord was the heir or not. His brother had a sincere disregard for anything that intruded on his focus on cards and women. In that, Gaylord resembled their mutual sire much more than Sebastian did.

  Lord Kendrick never shirks his duty. He is always the first to engage battle and the last to retire.

  And his father would be glad to remind Sebastian now that his duty was to find some way to bring honor to the family with a show of great heroism. Opening up the dispatch from Philadelphia, he reread it. Becoming a hero when the British army was mired in the stench of defeat would not be easy. Somehow, he would find a way, but this was bound to complicate everything.

  Faith hammered the nail back into place on the fence post. Mother would be distressed to see her doing this sort of work, especially when the sky was low with the promise of a storm. Yet, hitting the hammer over and over against the square nail eased her anger. How dare Lieutenant Kendrick treat her so crudely and assume that she was eavesdropping on them! Yes, she had heard their raised voices, but she had not been paying them any mind. Her own thoughts had been raucous as she tried to decide what to do about her burgeoning desire for Sebastian Kendrick.

  When she heard the dogs barking, she smiled. They must have found another squirrel to chase. Sometimes, she thought the squirrels took turns tormenting them, knowing none of the dogs could catch them as long as they stayed in the trees.