Ring of Secrets (29 page)

He looked as though he wished for an earthquake, a tempest, a cyclone—anything to distract everyone from him.

Winter pressed her lips together to hold back her smile. Oh, how she loved that man. Loved every blush, every stutter, every panicked look. Loved seeing him move from perfect ease in one discussion to total bafflement in another. Loved the way he looked over at her and seemed to find some comfort in her presence.

“Ought I give up hope, then?”

Winter started and turned back to Colonel Fairchild. The cheer had drained out of his face, which made her wonder what exactly had been upon hers. She lifted her brows. “Pardon?”

Fairchild's fingers tightened over hers as he nodded toward Bennet. “Has he proposed?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head.

The colonel pursed his lips. “I know he cares for you, and it appears you care for him as well. And your grandparents prefer him.”

All true. But seeing the hurt in his eyes, she still could find no words. She drew in a deep breath and moved her hand a bit on his arm.

He surprised her with a warm smile. “But I have not gotten where I am today by giving up at the first obstacle. Or the second or third. I will not relinquish you so easily, my love. Until you are his betrothed wife, I will be at your side every moment I can manage it, trying to convince you that, excellent man though Mr. Lane is, I will make you happier than he could.”

Guilt wove through the relief that welled up. She smiled, though it probably looked a little sad. “I do not deserve such devotion from you, Colonel.”

“Nonsense. You are all that is bright and good in my life.”

Those words made her feel the opposite. “I…I thank you, Colonel. For both your devotion and your patience. 'Tis a hard thing for me, this deciding on a future. It requires far more consideration than to what I am a customer.”

“Accustomed.” As always, his correction was given with a smile.

Mrs. Shirley huffed, loudly enough to draw Winter's attention that direction again. “Well, you are a fright now, Lizzie. We shall have to go home so you can change. Mrs. Parks, dear, let us meet at the milliner's in half an hour's time, shall we?”

“Dosia and I will head that way now.” Mrs. Parks arched a brow Winter's way. “Will you join us, Winnie?”

“Perhaps shortly, ma'am. I must drop by Mr. Townsend's store first.” She waved a hand at the storefront directly across from them. She had nearly made it there before running into the gaggle.

Colonel Fairchild tucked her hand more firmly into the crook of his elbow. “Allow me to escort you, Miss Reeves.”

Not good. But she could do little but agree with thanks, and then send a glance Bennet's way. His smile assured her he would help her, somehow or another. He and Major André both followed them across the street, and the moment they were safely over, Bennet said, “Did you see the
Royal Gazette
this morning, Fairchild? I was hoping you could tell me a bit more about that article on rebel movements. Have they really scattered so much?”

Undoubtedly not, but Mr. Rivington always exaggerated the bad luck of the Patriots for the ease of mind of his British readership. And it served to distract the colonel enough that she could free her hand and say, “I shall leave you men to such talk, if you will excuse me but a moment.”

Not waiting for an objection, she hastened into the store and then sighed when a quick look around did not show her Robbie.

“Can I help you, Miss Reeves?”

She pasted on a smile for Robbie's partner. “Good day, Mr. Oaktree. I am only looking for Mr. Townsend.”

“Oakham.” The man made an obvious effort to put patience in his smile. “And I'm afraid Mr. Townsend is reorganizing stock in the back and asked not to be disturbed.”

“Excellent. I shall see him back there.” She headed toward the door to the storeroom with all the confidence of the spoiled chit she pretended to be. Yet she still wasn't surprised when Oakham jumped into her path.

“Miss Reeves, I can hardly allow you into our back room. 'Tis full of boxes and crates and is a veritable mess. It's no place at all for a lady.”

“Nonsense.” She gave a look as if
he
were a slow child. “Robbie is an old family friend, and I must speak with him of family business, that is all. I will pay no attention at all to my surroundings, I assure you.”

Oakham folded his arms across his chest. “Why don't I bring him out here, hmm?”

Thankfully, Robbie appeared at the door, having apparently heard her. Though he looked far from pleased to see her. “It is all right, Oakham. I promised to share the latest news from my sister, is all, and I might as well do so while working. Come on back, Miss Reeves.”

Oakham relented with a roll of his eyes and retired to the counter. Once past him, Winter let her smile fade and ducked through the curtain, which Robbie pulled closed behind her. He led the way silently
to the rear of the storeroom and indeed got to work pulling items from a box rather than facing her.

Winter twisted the strap of her reticule between her fingers. “Robbie—”

“Please don't.” He took a handful of bottles from the box, their contents a mystery, and shoved them onto a shelf. “You ought not to have wasted your time in coming here. Go home, back into the arms of Mr. Lane. Or Fairchild, or whoever your choice beau is this afternoon.”

The censure in his tone struck her so forcefully that she drew in a quick breath to try to combat it. “You make it sound…Robbie, I did nothing wrong. Bennet was injured, and it scared me so much—”

“Bennet now, is it?” He halted and spun on her. “I know you feel you must marry one of them to escape your grandfather's threats, Winnie, but I didn't think…you are surely running out of time, right? Are you only trying to hurry him along?”

She expected such thoughts from Grandmother, but from Robbie? “You know I would not—”

“Do I? Frankly, I cannot say what you might do. In spite of all reason, all logic, you are set on marrying one of those pompous, England-bound men.”

She drew in a long breath in an attempt to steady her temper. There was no use fighting with Robbie when he was in one of his moods. It would only make things worse. “I came to see if you were well, Robbie. You looked so upset, and I feared…” She couldn't say it. It sounded too ridiculous. Too arrogant an assumption.

He halted in the middle of reaching into the box again. Straightening, he let his hands fall and stared at her. “You fear for me? And I fear for you. Why not resolve it all, Winnie? Why not be done with the family that is bent on terrorizing you? Be done with their expectations?”

Her stomach clenched, dread settling in it like something sour. “How?”

“'Tis simple.” His smile barely flashed before disappearing. “Marry me.”

And now her eyes burned. “That is not simple, Robbie.”

“It is.” He took a step toward her, though he halted again two steps away. He didn't reach for her but just looked long into her eyes. “You can join the Friends, and we can marry in Quaker fashion, so your
grandparents' disapproval will mean nothing. And you know your father would approve. I may not be wealthy, but I am well enough off.”

Her throat was so dry she could hardly force a swallow. Hardly dared to move. “But then I…the Culpers…”

“I don't care.” Now his voice came out low, quavering. “I thought I did, Winnie. I thought last night that it was all I needed to shake off this dreadful mood of mine. But it isn't. It cannot. Only you can help me.”

“No, I can't.” Why must he do this to her, put this burden upon her? She shook her head, wishing she in fact
could
make his troubles go away so easily. If she thought she could manage it, if she thought she could make him happy…well, maybe she would have proposed this course of action months ago.

But the sorrowful truth was that she had no such power over him, no more than any other outside force. His melancholy came from within. She moved forward, took his hand, and squeezed his fingers. “I wish I could, Robbie. I wish I could offer something, do something, that would help. But I would not be enough. My presence always irritates you as much as it soothes.”

He gripped her hand. “Because there is always conflict within me, born of my feelings for you. I love you, Winnie. I have loved you so long.”

Blink as she might, tears still welled.

Robbie sighed and let go of her fingers. “But you love Mr. Lane. I saw it clearly this morning, and now…even if you agreed, it would only torment me. I would always wonder if it was him of whom you dreamed.”

“I am sorry.” An ache wrapped itself around her, squeezing until she thought she might crumble within it. Part of her wished he had spoken long ago, before she had ever met Bennet. She would have been happy enough to join the Townsend family, to live in the modesty she best liked. To try to be what he needed. But another part wished he had never spoken at all. Wished he hadn't made her love for Bennet so bittersweet. “I never realized…had I known how you felt, Robbie—”

“An irrelevant hypothetical.” He waved a hand and turned back to his box. “If you were ever going to love me, you would already. I should
never have spoken. Just…go. Go back to your grandparents. Marry your Mr. Lane. Be happy.”

That command came out so miserably that she had to press a hand to her lips to stop the cry that wanted to escape. “Robbie, you are important to me. One of my only true friends—”

“'Tisn't enough anymore, Winnie.” He pulled out another bottle and gazed into it as if it contained a serum for everlasting youth. “Not now, with you knowing how I feel. Please, spare me this embarrassment. Leave.”

She spun but only took a step before pivoting back. “But what of—”

“I don't know.” He raised a hand, and though his back was still to her, she suspected he rubbed his eyes behind his spectacles. “Send Freeman whenever you must pass something along.”

“Robbie.”

He shook his head and somehow made his stance seem as though he turned his back on her anew. Perhaps because of the way he straightened his shoulders. “Go away, Winnie. I beg you.”

Disobeying would have been too cruel, so she left. Slowly, with every step feeling as though she had a weight strapped to her ankles. She managed to avoid Oakham in the store and slipped out the door as silently as she could manage, given its bell.

The gentlemen had moved a few steps away and didn't notice her. Major André was speaking, his face sober. “I admit it is worrisome. My source is quite adamant that Washington has placed a ring of spies within the city, though he has been unable to learn the specifics.”

Winter's limbs, already heavy, froze into ice.

Bennet frowned. “Unbelievable. Espionage is not only a risky endeavor, but one so very base—and the cost is so high. Why would anyone attempt it when they know well they will pay for it with their life?”

André shrugged. “In all likelihood, it is about money. It usually is. That is how we are enticing this high-ranking source.”

The ice of her being cracked, a few shards splintering off.

Of course she knew the opinion of spies, how hated they were, how reviled. How dangerous it was. But to hear these men discussing it, discussing
her
, and ascribing to her motives so very low…

Bennet now smirked. “From what I hear, the Patriots have no funds with which to tempt anyone to espionage. Surely 'tis something else.”

“Perhaps.” Colonel Fairchild shrugged. “But it hardly matters why. The point remains that it must be stopped.”

“Well, of course it must. And seeing the quality of officers looking into it,” Bennet said with a grin, “I am certain it shall be resolved soon.”

André breathed a laugh. “I wish I had your certainty. From what I am told, this ring has been operating for more than a year already, and we are no closer to finding its members now than when we intercepted their first letter.”

That, at least, was a relief.

Bennet nodded. “Well, if by chance I stumble across anything helpful, I will pass it along.”

Fairchild sighed. “I hope you will, Lane, and I hope you will not have to. But I must caution you to caution your friend. If he is seen again in such company, we will have no choice but to arrest him so that we might question him. Frankly, I would have the other day had I not known how close the two of you are.”

Looking as though his smile caused him pain, Bennet clasped his hands behind his back. “I thank you for coming to me first, Fairchild. And I assure you I will speak with George and remind him that we are no longer in the days when one might converse with whomever one wills so freely.”

Winter frowned. George Knight? Was he suspected of disloyalty? She could not fathom that they would long suffer such questions of a gunsmith. Yet she happened to know that he was in fact not a member of the Culper Ring, so surely he would escape any charges if he
were
questioned.