You told her.” Arnaud may have put no question in the words, but it pulsed from his gaze and deepened his frown. “You are mad. Bound for Bedlam. She is—”
Thad shushed his friend and sent a glance around the crowded tavern. “I am well aware of who she is, but at this point we have a mutual enemy in her uncle, and that is unquestionably enough—”
“To let her know you are accustomed to dealing with such things, perhaps. Perhaps.” Arnaud leaned forward, the lantern on the table sparking fury in his eyes. “But not enough to tell her names that could ruin us. Even our closest comrades know only that you can get information where it needs to go. But you tell her what we call ourselves?”
A chorus of raucous laughter came from the far corner, a perfect cover for the conversation that Thad had wanted to have three days earlier. One thing or another had forbidden it, though, and tomorrow Arnaud would be taking the Demain into the tributaries to make it available to Barney’s flotilla.
Thad sighed and gripped his half-full mug of coffee, if that lofty term could be applied to the ground-filled brew. “I had to, Alain. I had to be honest with her.”
With a growl, Arnaud tossed his fork to his plate. A drop of gravy flew through the air and landed on Thad’s sleeve. He wiped it off and touched his finger to his tongue. The place apparently served better food than they did coffee.
“Why?” Arnaud demanded in a fierce whisper. “Why did you have to do so? Other than because you are crackbrained.”
Thad sighed and swirled the vile black brew in his cup. “Because the Lord told me to.”
Arnaud leaned against the booth’s back. “How in blazes am I to argue with you when you claim that?”
“Well, if you wanted to try an unprecedented tactic, you could not.”
His friend snorted a laugh and folded his arms across his chest. “I try not to argue with the Almighty, but you have made your share of mistakes.”
“I know.” Because Arnaud seemed to be finished, he pulled the plate toward him and scooted his mug into its place. “But not when I listen to the Spirit guiding me, mon ami. And He was. Trust me on that.”
“I seem to have no choice as you did not see fit to ask my opinion before you told her everything.” He muttered a harsh French something and picked up the mug. “Perhaps you have been blinded by her pretty face.”
Thad forked a tender piece of roast and shoveled it in. Yes, a far sight better than the beverage. “A pretty face she certainly has, but so do thousands of other young ladies in Maryland. I can appreciate that without letting it blind me.”
Arnaud grunted into the mug. Took a drink. He didn’t wince—he chewed. Thoughtfully enough to warn Thad to brace himself for whatever was coming next. “I think…I may take Jacques with me on this run.”
Thad’s arm froze with a forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth. “You jest.”
The darting of Arnaud’s gaze said otherwise. “I cannot bear the thought of leaving him with your mother when he has just gotten settled at home again. It would be only for a week. Two at the most.”
“Don’t be a fool, Alain. We are at war. A primarily naval war. You cannot take your son with you.”
A brooding look fell over his handsome face, all glowering brows and pursed mouth. “No one made any objections about safety when I mentioned my intentions—”
“For you, you barnacle. But a rumbustious four-year-old?” Thad shook his head and convinced the fork to dispense its potatoes in his mouth. “And you call me crackbrained.”
Arnaud sighed and rested his head on his hand. “I know. But when I said I was going, he started crying, begging me to stay for Independence Day. What am I to do?”
“Put the trip off for another three days.”
Another laborious sigh. “It feels as though I have already put it off too long.”
“And so three more days will be nothing. Stay, enjoy the holiday with your son, and then leave him with us for a week.”
Though Arnaud nodded, he looked woebegone. “And then another fortnight of tantrums when I get back.”
An unfortunate truth. Had Thad some magical elixir to set it all to rights…then pirates and British alike would be banished from the seas, all Redcoats from American soil, and the shadows from Gwyneth’s eyes.
Arnaud set the mug down with a somehow accusing thunk. “What is that look? You have not worn the like since we were fourteen and you were convinced you were in love with Lizzie Farthing.”
“Ah, Lizzie Farthing.” He grinned and speared another piece of beef. “Had Aaron Pike not stolen her—”
Laughter cut him off. “Then what? She would have waited for you to grow up? With her already nineteen?”
Thad splayed a hand over his chest. “The heart does not consider such trivialities as age.”
“Your heart was in no danger from Lizzie, nor has it been in any since.” He sobered and stared at Thad for a long moment. “So why this expression now? You have bowed out of all the balls since Miss F—”