If possible, she moved even closer to the man’s side. “Yes.”
“By thunder!” Not since Europe had his vision blurred like this, had he felt each beat of his heart with excruciating clarity. “You mean to tell me I spent the last four months chasing a faithless—”
“Now see here—”
“Stop, Thad. Please.” Gwyneth rested her hand on the man’s chest. “He has a right to his anger. Sir Arthur, it never once occurred to me that you would look for me so long. We were little more than acquaintances.”
The fire burned hotter, and his fingers twitched over the borrowed weapon at his side. “You could not have been here more than three months. What in blazes made you think it wise to marry him?”
Her cheeks flushed, though the glint in her eyes said it was not from embarrassment. “I knew you half that long—”
“And we would have enjoyed a lengthy betrothal as we became better acquainted.” Arthur spun away, grasping for the reins of his temper as he tried to focus on the facts, but they all blurred together in a maelstrom of betrayal. He pivoted back to them, shaking his head. “You have disgraced your family and dishonored your father. Did you consider that amid whatever rubbish with which this Yankee has filled your mind? You married an American. An American soldier. One fighting against the very men your father once commanded!”
Her face remained clear, but her fingers curled around the white strap across Thad’s chest. “I married a good man. One I love with all my heart.”
“This is absurd.” Gates stepped forward, his pistol still at the ready. “I am certain that after we have the chance to enjoy a reasonable discussion, you will regret this hasty decision, but we haven’t the time to debate it now. We must get you to safety. Surely even Mr. Lane can see the wisdom of that.”
Mr. Lane urged Gwyneth behind him and adjusted his grip on his sidearm. From the glint in his eyes as he glared at Gates, Arthur had to wonder what the man might have done had the lady not been present. “She is not going anywhere with you.”
Gates put on that small, patronizing smile. “I have only her best interest at heart, and I will do whatever it takes to see her safely out of this city and country in that interest.”
Lane glanced from Gates to Arthur to Scrubs as if taking their measure, his narrowed eyes going wide when they landed on the boy. “Will?”
Arthur turned in time to see Scrubs swallow. His hands were fisted at his side. “How are they?”
Gwyneth must have asked a question of Lane, who said, “Reggie’s cousin, the one who was impressed.” Looking again at Scrubs, he said, “We thought never to see you again. Your mother is fine, as are your sisters. Reggie has seen to it.”
Scrubs’s nod was barely perceptible. “Thank him for me, Thad. Please.”
On another day, the coincidence might have seemed too much. This other, smaller betrayal might have pierced—that Scrubs had obviously known who Thaddeus Lane was since the first mention of him two days ago in Annapolis but had said nothing. Just now, though, it was no more than a bee sting in the face of a cannonball.
Arthur turned toward his horse before the thunder of blood burning through his veins could consume him anymore. “We are finished here, Gates. Leave her to her fate. Scrubs, come. Now.” He withdrew his pistol to punctuate the command, lest the boy get any ideas of staying. No longer was he in any mood to indulge the lad in dreams of freedom.
He sensed Gates’s hesitation, but the man muttered something to his niece—or perhaps her husband—and followed, as did Scrubs. Followed him onto their mounts, down the street, and around the corner. But where Arthur would have turned left to head out of the city, Gates signaled him to the right.
Thinking the older man wanted to scout out the town for Ross while they were there, Arthur made no argument. If he opened his mouth now, he might spew fire. Best to clamp his lips shut and trot along, taking note of all he saw.
People were bustling about, nearly all the men in uniform, with scads of women bearing armfuls of food and all headed the same direction. Combined with the fortifications they had noted outside the city when they finally got around all the downed trees across the roads, it painted a picture of people doing all they could to prepare for a coming attack.
Not exactly what Ross had said they could expect. There was no panic, no disheartening from the destruction of their capital. Perhaps, as he heard someone else suggest, they would do better to march next to Annapolis.
When Gates stopped before a large house and dismounted, Arthur realized he had led them away from the businesses and port area into a section of the city filled only with similar elegant residences, the sign on the post reading Lexington Street. “Gates?”