He traced a finger over the unexplainable scalloped shadow and then tapped the blurred figure in the background. “Sir Lancelot?”
A chuckle slipped out as she took her place next to him, wishing she dared to weave her fingers through his in the light of day. She wondered at how she had been audacious enough to act as she had when he got home last night. “Arthur. As you well know.”
He grunted and flipped through a few other papers. “He is in quite a few of them.”
Gwyneth lifted a shoulder in half a shrug. “I suppose part of me blamed him for being so near yet not helping, even if logic says he could not have had any way of knowing what was happening inside the house.”
“Hmm.” He let the pages settle. “Do you think he is searching for you?”
“No.” At the glance he sent her, she held out her hands, palms up. “We scarcely knew each other.”
“Well enough, apparently.”
“Not really.” At the look still churning in his eyes, she grinned. “You are not jealous of him, are you, Captain Lane?”
His brows went up. “Me? Jealous of some London dandy?” He folded his arms over his chest. “I most certainly am. He ought to have known better than to make advances toward the woman I love. Even if I didn’t know her yet.”
Another chuckle and a tingling wash of joy at that phrase. The woman I love. She held out a hand. “You needn’t be jealous.”
His fingers engulfed hers, and he raised her knuckles to his lips. Lingered far too long over them, though she made no objections. And oh, the way his eyes gleamed for her. “No?”
“No.” The word came out as little more than a breath. And if he could have such an effect on her just by kissing her hand…tamping down another smile, she pulled her fingers from his and took a step away. “Hadn’t you better be on your way, Mr. Culper? I daresay your congressman is eager for your report.”
“Not home but seven hours, and already she is giving me the boot.” His lips turned up, and he turned toward the door. “Have that picnic ready this evening, sweet. I have already obtained your guardians’ permission to take you out for a carriage ride after I return from Washington.”
“I will be waiting, sir.” With a tripping heart and a ready smile.
He winked as he ducked his way out, greeting his mother in the hallway. Winter entered the drawing room a second later, holding an envelope out toward Gwyneth. “This just came for you, dear.”
Gwyneth’s smile pulled down into a frown. A letter for her? Here? She took the folded white paper, not recognizing the handwriting. After breaking the seal and opening it, she looked first to the signature.
“Mr. Wesley.” Her gaze flew back to the top of the brief letter, and her heart both eased and went tight somehow. “They made it safely to his cousin and are searching for a ship home.”
No mention of forgiveness, of prayers, of anything warm. Just quick, cool words. An update to an acquaintance. She lowered the page and dragged a long breath into her lungs. They would go home, and they would tell Uncle Gates where she was.
And what if, she now wondered as her gaze drifted to the desk, Sir Arthur was searching for her too? What if that old life that seemed so far away found her? When all she wanted to do was stay lost.
Twenty-Seven
The rhythmic clopping of the two trotting horses filled the silence that fell after Thad finished telling Arnaud all he had learned in Bermuda. When he had arrived at his friend’s house, Jack had greeted him with his usual enthusiasm, eliminating the need for any awkwardness. And as they set out for Washington, it had been so easy to fall into talk of safe things. Like war.
Now, though, they had exhausted the topic, which brought back all the things still echoing in his mind from that argument before he left. He cast a glance at Arnaud, trying to twist his tongue around something pleasant. Or profound. Or even just lacking in stupidity.
His friend cast him an amused glance, half a smile on his face. “I imagine you noted the change in your lady love in about ten seconds, oui?”
Not sure if Gwyneth was a safe topic or not, Thad nodded. “Though we have not yet spoken of the reason behind the shift.”
A chuckle rumbled forth, blending with the clop of hooves. “From what I could gather when we dropped by last week, it came of her arriving at the startling realization that her savior was not here—” he jerked a thumb toward Thad—“but there.” He turned his thumb upward.
The words were the same old bitterness that had been lurking these last two years, but the tone—the tone was light, free of resentment. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking. Thad eased back in his saddle. “That would explain it. I cannot say how glad I was to see such confidence in her eyes, such light. And you will be happy to know that she demanded a proper courtship.” He hoped.