Surrender the Night (13 page)

Miss McGuire lifted her chin. Wayward strands of honey-drenched hair dangled like glimmering threads about her neck. “Uncle, truth be told—and I’m sorry if this impugns your opinion of Mr. Snyder, Aunt Muira—but the man would not leave at my request. He was being quite obstinate. If not for Mr. Reed’s intrusion, I cannot imagine what would have happened.”

Mrs. Drummond’s features wrinkled. “Surely you do not think he would do you harm, Rose. Preposterous.” She chortled as she glanced around the table.

“I didn’t think so either, Aunt, but then the infernal man wouldn’t leave.”

“Our sweet Rose creates a dither out of every little thing.” Mr. Drummond tossed the last bite of his biscuit into his mouth.

Miss McGuire’s shoulders slumped, and Alex pitied her for her uncle’s nonchalant attitude toward her safety. What was the man thinking? Leaving two young ladies at home alone without a man in attendance to protect them?

“You should try this apple butter, Mr. Reed.” Mr. Drummond handed the bowl to Amelia, who passed it to Alex. “It is quite delicious.”

Amelia slid her fingers over Alex’s as he grabbed the dish and set it down on the table. “I think Mr. Snyder left because he was frightened of Mr. Reed.”

Ignoring her flirtations, Alex placed a piece of meat into his mouth and was instantly rewarded with a spicy, succulent flavor. Certainly not the hard tack and dried beef he normally received when out to sea. Rabbit, if he remembered the taste, though it had rarely been served at the Reed table.

A breeze swirled in from the open window, sending the candles sputtering, and bringing with it the scent of hay and evening primrose. Mrs. Drummond patted her coiffure back in place. “I imagine that Mr. Snyder was indeed frightened. You make quite an imposing figure, Mr. Reed. But do tell us what happened to your leg?”

“Pistol shot,” he replied casually. He spooned potatoes into his mouth, finding himself suddenly quite hungry.

Someone kicked his leg beneath the table again. He winced and leveled a gaze at Miss McGuire. She frowned and jerked her head toward the door, no doubt prodding him to excuse himself and leave.

But his stomach resisted the notion.

Mrs. Drummond’s green eyes flashed. “Shot! Indeed, from whom, where?”

“In the battle for Odelltown, Quebec, madam. Vermont militia.” Alex cringed at the lie once again, but it could not be helped.

“Good heavens.” Mr. Drummond set down his spoon, his ruddy face reddening even further. “So you are a soldier?”

Amelia leaned her chin on her hand and gazed at him adoringly.

“He is simply a wanderer, Uncle.” Miss McGuire speared Alex with another icy gaze. “With a wounded leg and no particular skills. I only told Mr. Snyder that Mr. Reed was our man of work to get rid of the councilman.” She straightened her shoulders and gave him a caustic smile. “So after you’ve partaken of our hospitality, sir, I assume you’ll be on your way.”

“Ah, not so quick, my dear.” Mrs. Drummond set down her fork. “Your uncle has had a difficult time finding an appropriate replacement for Samuel. I, for one, find Mr. Reed an interesting candidate and wish to hear more about him.”

“I quite agree, dearest.” Mr. Drummond heaped a second helping
of potatoes onto his plate. “Most of the men of Baltimore have either joined the militia defending the fort or have become privateers.” He lifted kind brown eyes to Alex. “Or are fighting in Canada as you were, Mr. Reed.”

“Yes.” Alex spread a dab of apple butter onto his biscuit and took a bite. The creamy flavor of sweet apple exploded on his tongue, but instantly soured beneath his deception.

A smudge of apple butter guarded the corner of Mr. Drummond’s lips as they formed a frown. “Were you shot by the British?”

A mixture of fear and anger leaped from Miss McGuire’s crisp blue eyes.

“A British naval officer, to be exact,” he answered never taking his eyes off Miss McGuire. She kicked him beneath the table. On his bad leg. Pain shot through his thigh. He coughed into his hand to cover up a groan.

Amelia exchanged a harried glance with Miss McGuire.

“Oh my.” Mrs. Drummond played with the tiny jewels dangling from her ears. “Thank goodness you survived.”

“The wound is healing nicely. I had the best of care.” Alex hoped his compliment would assuage the fury pouring from Miss McGuire’s face, but it only seemed to agitate her further. Did she think him such a fool that he would divulge his true identity? Upon his honor, he would be gone soon enough.

Amelia took the liberty of refilling his goblet from the pitcher.

“May I ask where your family is from?” Mr. Drummond paused in cutting a piece of meat. “Your accent rings with nobility, sir.”

Alex tore his gaze from Miss McGuire’s piercing eyes. “Indeed. I am told that quite often. A curse of my upbringing, I fear. But my family is all gone now.”

“Oh my.” Mrs. Drummond gasped. “Please forgive my husband’s impertinence. We did not mean to intrude.”

Mr. Drummond plopped his last piece of rabbit into his mouth then directed his gaze at Miss McGuire. “But Rose, lass, I must chastise you. You rid yourself of Mr. Snyder, yet place yourself at the mercy of a complete stranger.”

Seconds passed as Miss McGuire pushed a pile of potatoes about her plate. Finally she looked up. “We have met before, Uncle.”

“Have you, dear? Pray tell, where?” Mrs. Drummond dabbed her napkin over her lips.

“On the farm a few weeks past.”

“I came by looking for work, but your niece turned me away,” Alex said.

“I did not think you would approve.” Miss McGuire sipped her tea and sat up straight. “In fact, now that you know more about him, I’m sure you’ll agree he is not suited for the position.”

A smile twitched on Alex’s lips at her attempt to be rid of him. The fire sparking in her blue eyes tempted him to goad her further—if only to draw her gaze his way once again.

Mrs. Drummond shook her head. “Oh dear, you shouldn’t say such things in front of Mr. Reed. Why, he’s a soldier wounded while fighting for our country.” She gave him an admiring look. “I for one am in favor of giving you a chance to prove yourself as our new man of work.”

Amelia flinched beside him. A loud clank drew Alex’s gaze to Miss McGuire. Her goblet lay on its side, the remainder of her tea spilling onto the white tablecloth. “Forgive me.” Miss McGuire tossed her napkin over the puddle as her aunt frowned in her direction. “I am sure that Mr. Reed wishes to return to the war.” She squeezed the words out through clenched teeth and a tight smile. “Do you not, Mr. Reed?”

“Whatever is amiss with you tonight?” Mrs. Drummond said.

Mr. Drummond brushed the crumbs from his shirt and held up a hand. “Before you accept, Mr. Reed, I should inform you that the position requires you to handle a multitude of duties. As you can see, we are unable to afford many servants. We have Cora, our cook and housekeeper—”

“Then she is not your slave?” Alex had not intended to interrupt, but the way Mr. Drummond had spoken the cook’s name inferred that she was more of a family friend than slave.

“Oh goodness no, sir.” Disgust shadowed Mr. Drummond’s face. “I purchased her ten years ago from a slave trader and offered her freedom and a position in our home should she desire to stay. She’s been with us ever since.”

An unavoidable admiration for the man blossomed within Alex.

Though England’s Slave Trade Act forbade British ships from transporting slaves, both Britain and America had not yet removed the scourge of slavery from their colonies. “Commendable, sir. Especially since so many of your fellow countrymen think nothing of keeping slaves.”

“My countrymen?” Mr. Drummond’s gray brows rose. “Are they not your countrymen as well?”

Amelia coughed. Miss McGuire froze and Alex stiffened at his foolish blunder. “Indeed, I misspoke. It has been a long day.”

But Mr. Drummond’s smile indicated he took no suspicion of it. “Nevertheless, as I was saying, when Rose came to live with us, we also hired Amelia as her lady’s maid and companion. So we are in need of a general man of work to perform the duties of footman, groomsman, and farmhand.”

Alex swallowed the meat in his mouth and took a sip of tea to stifle the chortle that longed to emerge from his throat. The son of a viscount hired as a common servant? And by a man with half Alex’s intelligence, breeding, and education. It was most comical. “You do indeed have a pleasant piece of land, Mr. Drummond.”

“Can I get you another biscuit, Mr. Reed?” Amelia smiled his way, and Miss McGuire glared at her maid.

“No, thank you, miss.” Alex withheld a chuckle at the woman’s continued flirtation.

“The land.” Mr. Drummond waved a hand in the air, “Oh, that’s Rose’s doing.”

“Indeed?” Alex raised brows at Miss McGuire, but she had plucked out her fan and was waving it about her face.

“It does not deserve a mention,” she mumbled.

“Of course it does, lass,” Mr. Drummond said. “We bought the land with Rose’s inheritance.”

“And her money provides us with a comfortable living,” Mrs. Drummond added. “This home, our carriages and horses, and Cora and Amelia’s salaries.”

“I am all astonishment.” Alex said. And indeed he was. Miss McGuire’s eyes chilled. “Is it so unbelievable?”

He grinned.

“You see, Mr. Reed,” Mrs. Drummond continued, “Mr. Drummond brings home but a meager salary from his church.”

“Your church?”

“Yes. I am the reverend at the First Presbyterian Church in Fells Point.”

Alex shook his head. A reverend? Certainly the last profession he would have guessed for this unrefined, bumbling man. “A rewarding position, no doubt.”

“It is. And much more than I deserve.” The sparkle left Mr. Drummond’s eyes. “I came here as an indentured servant—a captured thief from Scotland, and now look what God has done.”

Alex cringed. A criminal. His father Lord Cranleigh would choke on his food were he to learn of the depravity of Alex’s dinner companions.

Amelia placed an overbold hand on Alex’s arm. “Ouch!” She jerked back her hand and speared Miss McGuire with a gaze. Alex smiled. No doubt the poor woman had also fallen victim to the point of Miss McGuire’s shoe.

Composing herself, Amelia continued, “Forgive me. I …” She took a breath, then went on without explaining her outburst. “Theirs is such a romantic story. Mr. Drummond was an indentured servant in Mrs. Drummond’s house.”

“I was known then as Miss Muira McGuire, you see.” Mrs. Drummond gazed adoringly at her husband. “We fell in love.”

“Aye, after I repented of my sins and came to know the Lord.” Mr. Drummond cocked his head toward his wife. “Due to your brother’s godly influence, I might add.”

“Rose’s father, Robert. God rest his soul.” Sorrow tugged upon Mrs. Drummond’s features. “He was a good man.”

Alex set down his fork, his stomach suddenly churning.

Mrs. Drummond shrugged. “Of course my father disapproved the match.”

“Her family disowned her,” Amelia added. “But she ran away with him anyway.” She released a wistful sigh.

Left everything?
For love? Yet hadn’t Alex nearly done the same years ago?

“Is it warm in here?” Miss McGuire huffed as she fluttered her fan over her face and neck.

Mrs. Drummond scooped potatoes onto her plate. “You see, Mr.
Reed, my family grew quite wealthy building ships in Norfolk.”

“Indeed?” Alex watched as Miss McGuire pushed her uneaten plate of food aside and pleaded with her eyes for him to leave.

“We were poor for many years.” Mrs. Drummond took her husband’s hand in hers. “Yet so much richer than most.”

Alex turned away from the intensity of affection he saw in their eyes—an affection stronger than any he’d witnessed between a man and wife. A strange longing welled up within him to be loved with such passion.

Miss McGuire hurried her fan, sending wisps of golden hair dancing about her neck. “I would never have had such courage to do what you did, Aunt Muira.”

Mr. Drummond kissed his wife’s hand then faced his niece. “If you would only put your trust in God you could.”

“How can I after what He allowed me to endure?” She swallowed, and her gaze flitted over Alex. Could she be speaking of her parents’ deaths? Yet the depth of sorrow in her eyes bespoke of something more.

“So you see.” Mr. Drummond wiped his mouth with his napkin and tossed it onto the table, though crumbs still speckled his gray beard. “If God redeemed this poor old sinner, how can I not give as much as I’m able into His service?”

Mrs. Drummond leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Our work takes us away from the farm often, Mr. Reed, so we are in desperate need of someone to watch over things.”

“You leave the ladies alone? Without protection? In wartime?” Alex found the idea inconceivable. Visions of Lieutenant Garrick’s body atop Miss McGuire resurged his anger.

“Only recently. And out of necessity. Samuel our last man of work ran off two weeks ago. Joined the British army. You have no intentions of doing that, do you?” He chuckled.

Amelia clutched her throat, then grabbed her glass and sipped her tea.

Another blow to his leg. Pain speared up his thigh. Alex winced and tightened the muscles in his jaw. “The British army? No sir. That would be my last choice.” And indeed it was. He was a navy man through and through.

Alex tapped his napkin over his lips, then sat back in his chair
and patted his full stomach. He’d not felt so satisfied and rested in months. If he were back on the ship, he’d have to assume his duties and carry out the commands of his volatile and berating captain. In addition, he’d no doubt be sent out on further raids where he’d witness unspeakable atrocities in the name of war. Or worse, where he might have to perform acts that violated the strictures of decent humanity. No, he was in no rush to return.

He gazed over his dinner companions. Though uncultured at best, the kindness of these simple people eased over his soul like a warm tropical breeze. Besides, he hated the thought of leaving the women alone without protection—of leaving Miss McGuire at the mercy of the next British raid. He shuddered. What harm would it do to stay on and protect them while his leg healed?