Music nearly drowned out the din from the storm, but occasionally a deluge of rain would overpower the fiddle and whistle, or a rumble of thunder would shake the whole house. In those moments Thad had glanced out the window at the tree limbs littering the street and the debris gusting by and whispered a prayer for safety and protection for their homes. Then he had spun Gwyneth into his arms again for another dance.
His wife. He had been smiling so much this afternoon that he would likely strain a cheek muscle, but it couldn’t be helped. The woman who owned his heart had agreed to marry him and pledged herself to him before as much of Baltimore as could squeeze into his house, and she was even now watching him from across the room with joyful eyes.
When he had married Peggy, it had been a quiet, somber affair. Just his family and one of her friends, a private ceremony, a small supper. This was more like her wedding to Arnaud had been. What a wedding ought to be. Pure, unbridled hope with no ghosts haunting it.
Arnaud stepped up beside him now, slapping a hand to his back. “Did General Smith grant you time off for a honeymoon?”
From his other side, Smith snorted. “If only we could afford such leisure. He may stay at home with his beautiful bride as long as this storm rages, but once it is gone, we have much work to do.”
“I know.” Still Thad grinned. His next days and weeks might be filled with drilling, digging, and fortifying, but he would come home each evening to Gwyneth. Able to take her in his arms whenever he pleased. To hold her and be held.
“I have special work for you two.” Smith turned to face them, his countenance empty of anything but casual well wishing. “You must drill with everyone else, of course, but rather than dig, I need you to organize support from the local businessmen. We need, above all, capital. The state has little to give us, so go to the bankers, the merchants, and anyone else with sterling to spare. With Washington in ruins, I expect an outcry that will bring volunteers here in droves. We need farmers and bakers willing to feed them. Townsfolk to house them. Our every effort, our every focus must be on readying this city for the British arrival.”
Thad felt a soft touch on his back, and Gwyneth slipped under his arm, resting against his side. “We can all help with that, sir. Encouraging the people to share what they have with those who will be flooding the city. Thad’s mother was saying how we would do our part while the men are drilling by organizing food and shelter. And, of course, Rosie intends to have our kitchen working at its capacity.”
“How fortunate she taught you to cook.” Thad grinned at his bride and gave her a squeeze. She looked beautiful in her best dress, with her hair so carefully arranged, but he had to be honest. ’Twas that light of beneficence in her eyes, the determination to help others, that made her radiant.
And the way she looked up at him with that expectant warmth didn’t hurt either.
“Your assistance will be much appreciated, Mrs. Lane. If all greet our efforts with such enthusiasm, then Baltimore will soon be a bastion of safety.” The general smiled as he bowed slightly at the waist. “Allow me to say that Thaddeus has found himself a jewel of a wife, with a spirit as lovely as her countenance.”
“Thank you, General.” Her cheeks flushed a perfect pink at the compliment.
Arnaud caught Thad’s gaze and winked, nodding at the window. “It looks as though we are in a lull. I had best get Jack home before the next round hits.”
Thad made no argument, especially when the majority of his friends and neighbors followed suit. Within fifteen minutes the house was empty of all but those who had offered to help clean up. He knew Mother and Philly would be stealing Gwyneth away any moment to help her take the pins from her hair and change out of her dress, and his pulse thudded. But he would steal her himself for a moment first. While the others were saying their farewells to the mayor and his wife, Thad tugged her into his study and shut the door behind them.
She laughed as he swept her into his arms. “Why, Mr. Lane. There are still neighbors who needed a goodbye.”
“They will understand, Mrs. Lane.” He kissed her soundly, as he had been wanting to do all afternoon, until a gust of wind tore by with such force that it sounded as though the window might be pushed from its frame.
Gwyneth held tight to him, her face toward the shuddering glass. “Are your summers always so stormy?”