Hence, she suspected, why he had volunteered. Now he struck the city map with a rod, indicating the quadrant nearest Thad’s house. “Grandmama and Bennet will take this section here. Urge everyone downtown that you can or, failing that, over to the Washington road. Winter, you and Rosie will pick up here and work your way westward. Philly and Reggie, get everyone out of the shops and into the streets. Gwyneth, you will be with me—”
“Try it, General, and you will have a mutiny on your hands.” Thad delivered the line with a somber face, but amusement gleamed in his eyes.
The same reflected in Captain Arnaud’s. “A general does not have a mutiny, you salty dog. Those only happen at sea.”
“Then we shall call you Admiral instead. But Gwyn is with me, as you well know.”
Arnaud loosed an overdone sigh. “Fine. Upstart sailor. As punishment, the two of you are in charge of making sure the band is in order and nearby on the streets. And who will go with me then?” He made a show of looking around as his son all but danced upon his chair, so high did he try to raise his hand. “No one? No one wants to go with me to the docks?”
“Papa! Me!”
Gwyneth laughed with the others as Arnaud exclaimed as if he had not seen the boy and then scooped him up. And she made no objection when Thad laced his fingers through hers. He had done so frequently the past two weeks, first at any excuse, then at fabricated ones, and finally without even that pretense.
She shot him a warm smile in reward.
“All right then, soldiers, you all know your orders. This is the most serious campaign you will likely ever undertake, and I expect you to treat it with dignity and respect.”
Jack giggled and wrapped an arm around his father’s neck. “Papa, it is a parade.”
“Exactly, my little corporal.” He tweaked the boy’s nose. “A parade to send off our boys to Washington in such a fashion that they know they take us all with them. To mark the twenty-first of August as a day to remember.”
And there was the regret that colored the joy. They were sending their neighbors off to their possible deaths—deaths at the hands of Gwyneth’s countrymen. Some of whom she undoubtedly knew firsthand, who had likely served under her father. Possibly with whom she had danced at a ball earlier that spring.
What a terrible thing was this war.
As the group broke up, Thad kissed her knuckles—another move that had become so common yet still sent such a thrill through her. “Are you certain you want to join us in this, my love? We all understand that you are—”
“Thad, please.” She squeezed his fingers and pulled him out the door behind his grandmother. “I am English, and I will always love England, but that does not mean I cannot see her mistakes for what they are. And it certainly does not mean I want to see this country crushed when it deserves the chance to thrive.”
“Just making certain.” A smile saturated his tone, though she didn’t look back to see it. Not until they stepped outside into the wet blanket of scorching heat.
“Oh, heavens. I do not envy the men their march to Washington.” Already, after a mere handful of seconds in the sun, perspiration dotted her brow. Or perhaps it was merely the humidity finding a surface to which to cling.
Thad pulled her away from the others and off toward where the musicians had been told to gather. “They have been in this heat all summer. They will be fine. ’Tis the chaps in red you ought to be concerned about on that count.”
Poor fellows. According to what Thad learned and then shared with the rest of them, the six thousand men who had arrived so recently had not fared well on their march. No doubt they were out of condition from the voyage, weeks and months of inactivity, and then to be forced into this suffocating climate after being accustomed to the cooler European air…no wonder all the reports of men collapsing. “I do not wish the nation crushed, but I certainly do not wish my countrymen such an arduous time of breathing.”
Thad was not so conflicted, if the impish grin on his face were any indication. “It seems to me that it is another valuable military lesson. Just as Napoleon learned not to wage war in Russia in winter, so the British ought to learn to stay out of the Atlantic states in the summer.”
“They were here before.”
“And look how well that turned out for them.”
How was she to resist a breath of laughter and a shake of her head? Gwyneth pulled her fingers free of his, but only so that she could tuck her hand into the crook of his arm, the easier to walk beside him. The levity had little choice but to fade as she considered again why all these men were slogging through the ninety-five degrees that felt well over a hundred with the humidity.
Cochrane had approved Cockburn’s plan. Her father’s friends had set a course for Washington City.
She dabbed at the sweat from her brow with her handkerchief, though she knew even as she did so it was a vain attempt.