Congressman Tallmadge, dressed like a farmer, emerged from the shadows with a frown. “The Misters Lane. You could not have received my note already.”
Father’s frown matched his friend’s. “We were out for a walk. What brings you to Baltimore, B—John?”
The congressman glanced between them and then nodded toward the Chesapeake. “Walk with me and I will explain as we go.” They flanked him as he continued on the path Thad had already set out. “Captain Lane, forgive me for taking liberties, but I sent my men to gather your crew. The moon is new and the night will be dark, thereby safe to slip past the British. Henry assures me he can pilot you safely through the blockade.”
Thad’s heart pounded nearly as fast as it had when he held Gwyneth in his arms. “You are sending me to sea? Tonight?”
“I have little choice.” His voice low, Tallmadge looked all around them. “We both know the British fleet is on its way from Europe, and as soon as they arrive, they will decide where in the region to attack. We need to know where they are, how many they are, and when they will be here. We cannot wait for someone else to discover this by chance, Captain. And if you wait any longer, the moon will not be new, and you will be forced to go the long way around to avoid detection.”
But if he intended to set sail tonight, it would have to be when tide and darkness were both with him. Which would mean that he would have to board his brig within the next few minutes.
He sighed. Tallmadge’s point was undeniable. And had it been any other day, Thad would have bounded most gratefully onto Masquerade. But today? Tonight? Now? He looked past the congressman to his father.
Father stared right back at him. “You said a month ago you wanted action.”
“Yes, but Gwyn is already upset with me.” Arnaud would understand, but would she? “If I leave without warning…”
“A bit of distance just now may be for the best. I will explain the situation.”
Tallmadge’s head swung from Thad to Father and back again. “Gwyn? The Gwyn you mentioned when you came to see me last month? Why would she be upset if you leave?”
Thad cleared his throat. He had a feeling that the head of the Culper Ring would not be entirely thrilled to learn that his Samuel Culper III was in love with the daughter of a British general. A murdered British general, whose brother-in-law was set upon the destruction of their country.
Father laughed. “Take one guess, old man.”
Tallmadge sighed. “In my day, one waited until the war was over before one turned one’s attention to matters of courting.”
Father, bless him, nudged his longtime friend with an elbow. “You may have. Some of us are quite capable of juggling both concerns at once.”
With a shake of his head, the congressman turned with Thad toward the docks. “Tell me you will go. If you do not, I cannot think who to send.”
His crew would be but a skeleton. Getting out of the harbor would be dangerous, finding the fleet risky, and getting home again an ordeal.
But his feet itched with excitement and purpose thudded through his veins. “They will head to Bermuda first, I am sure. I can await them there to get the count. Though Masquerade will need water and food—”
“I have men loading it even now, enough for the short trip. You will have to purchase more once there, though.”
“A good excuse for landing.”
And there she was, his first love, bustling with life again after two years asleep in the harbor. Dock workers carried crates and rolled barrels toward and onto her, and the Masquerade bobbed joyfully in response. He spotted his crew—the few still alive and not fighting off the Redcoats elsewhere—on the deck, in the lines, on the dock.
Henry jogged their way, his white teeth the only thing on his person that stood out in the quickly falling darkness. “There you are, Captain. I wanted to tell you I talked it over with Emmy, and she knows I be gone longer than usual this time. You gonna need me to lend a hand the whole way.”
He slapped a grateful hand to Henry’s back, nodded at Tallmadge, and caught Father’s gaze. “You will make sure she understands?”
“I will.” And he would see everything at home was cared for, Thad knew.
Except he could not promise to bring rest to Gwyneth’s spirit, could he? The insomnia might come back. The nightmares might strike again in what minutes of sleep she could find. When he managed to return, it might be to find her hollow and haunted once again, their progress lost.
You must always be the one to swoop in to the rescue.
The tension in his chest throbbed. Dear Lord… But what could he pray? “We had better hurry. Farewell, Mr. Bolton. Father—give everyone my love and request their prayers.”
Father nodded.
Thad’s fingers curled into his palm. Dear Lord…I commit her to You.