Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (17 page)

Lavender felt sick inside. Suddenly, war and intrigue had lost its appeal to her. She was weary of games, deceit, and power struggles. "I will not be a party to capturing a man who is staying under my aunt's roof, Brainard. Please do not ask this of me."

His eyes had a calculating glaze, and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet. "A strange reaction, I must say. I can tell you right now, the duke would not subscribe to the same fair play where you are concerned."

"You cannot depend on me to help you in this, Brainard," she stated with determination.

"I insist, Lavender. This man has to be stopped, and you are the only one who can do it."

"No, I will not do this. Before when you asked my help, the men were nameless and faceless. I will not help you capture the duke for your own personal glory." She knew there must be a way to warn Julian of the danger without giving herself away or betraying others. After all, Julian was not a threat to Brainard's operation. He only wanted the Swallow and had no interest in anyone else.

Brainard stared at her for a long moment. "Perhaps I will not need your help in this. But I cannot act until I receive instructions from my superior."

It did not matter to Lavender that Julian had set a trap for her. Never mind that he would have handed her over to the British if she had not escaped last night. She ached at the thought of him being captured. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, and she recognized it as the taste of betrayal. Why should she feel any loyalty to Julian? He was her enemy, and he had certainly felt no reservation about taking her prisoner. How well she remembered lying in Julian's arms last night, and the first stirrings of desire he had awakened in her body. She had belonged to him more surely than she would ever belong to another man.

She was feeling numb as she moved to the door, knowing she would have to find a way to warn Julian— but how? It should take Brainard several weeks to receive instructions on what to do about Julian. She would be watchful and alert, and at the first sign of trouble, she would decide what was to be done.

"If you are finished with me, Brainard, I am going home now."

"Wait, I have something more to say. 1 know you have already concluded that there must be a British informant among us. How else would the Englishman have known enough to lure you to the inn with the idea of taking you prisoner. 1 want you to have a care while I do some checking into this matter."

"I had wondered if someone had betrayed me. But how can it be? We have been extremely cautious, and only you, Sarah, Forbes, myself, and Nicodemus knew about the meeting."

"It's my theory that whoever the person is, he is operating out of this hospital. Hopefully he does not know that you are the Swallow or he would have come after you before now. Even so, you must be careful all the same. By the way," he said, turning the conversation. "I have a message to you from your brother."

Her eyes brightened. "You talked to Chandler?"

He laughed and became the lighthearted person she had always thought him to be. "No, your brother talked and I listened. I have seldom had such a raking over. You cannot imagine how angry he was with me."

"Yes, I can imagine. My brother was not in the least pleased to discover that I am the Swallow," she returned in an even tone. "What was his message to me?"

"He instructed me to say he was having the house in Richmond put in order to accommodate the both of you as soon as the war has ended. He also said he would be calling on you in the near future."

Happiness glowed in her eyes. For the moment her brother's message had chased away all the dark shadows. "I will look forward to seeing Chandler."

Brainard picked up her gloved hand and placed a soft kiss on the inner wrist. "I always look forward to seeing you, Lavender."

Lavender drew back, not wanting any intimacy between the two of them. She remembered allowing Brainard to kiss her that day in her aunt's garden, and she now regretted that. "You have been a friend, Brainard. I will miss you, but I meant what I said. I will no longer be the Swallow."

He took her bonnet from her hands and placed it on her head, tying the ribbon under her chin. "I intend to be more than your friend. I promise you this is not good-bye for us, Lavender. I want to remind you to be cautious. We cannot be sure what Julian Westfield doesn't know about you."

"I will be careful," she assured him. "But I was serious when I told you I will no longer be the Swallow."

He led her to the door, his jaw clamped together tightly. "We shall see, Lavender. For now, you had better leave. We don't want anyone to become suspicious."

Lavender slipped quietly out the door. As she made her way down the corridor, she realized that she would miss Brainard, and perhaps she would miss the excitement that had filled her life for so long. She had many things to reflect on, because in two short days, her life had changed dramatically.

When Lavender reached her aunt's house, it was past the dinner hour, so she took the back entrance through the garden to save time. The rosy hue of twilight had given way to the dark purple of night. The scarlet crape myrtle bush was in full bloom, and the bright-colored petals were scattered across the brick walkway. The night seemed to come alive with hundreds of fireflies, making the garden a place of enchanted beauty.

Although Lavender knew she was in for a scolding from her aunt for being late to dinner, she could not resist pausing to breathe in the sweetly scented air. She was so entranced with the beauty around her that she did not see Julian standing in the pathway behind her. Taking a step backward, she came up against his hard, muscled body, and froze. His steadying hand rested briefly on her shoulder before he released her.

"I wonder who will be around for you to trip over after I am gone, Miss Daymond?" He sounded perturbed, as he always did when speaking to his landlady's niece, so she relaxed. Her secret was safe. Julian did not suspect her of being anyone other than the clumsy Lavender who stammered and kept tripping over him.

She turned to face him, feeling as if she couldn't breathe. As always, his manner of dress was impeccable. He wore rust-colored trousers and a white ruffled shirt. Since the night was warm, he wore no coat. His nearness was so overpowering, she felt her legs go weak. His face was plainly defined in the light that streamed from the garden room. How well she remembered last night when his kisses had drained her of any strength or resistance. Now those lips were stiff and unyielding. There was no softness in his brown eyes, as there had been when he held her in his arms. Now only boredom reflected in the dark depths.

"I didn't see you, I am . . . sorry." She remembered to stammer. "Are you planning on going . . . away, Mr. West?"

"Yes, before too long."

It had to come. She had known that he would have to go away one day, indeed she wanted him to go so he would be safe from Brainard. But, oh, the thought of never seeing him again was more than she could bear. "But your . . . painting," she stammered. "Have you finished Helen of Troy?"

His eyes went past her to the full moon that was rising above the stable. "It is not yet complete, because my model is like a fleeting shadow, Miss Daymond. She seems to always be vanishing into thin air. I may never complete the painting."

Her eyes were wistful and seeking, not really understanding what he meant. "Then you found a model?"

His mouth thinned. "I found her, and then lost her."

"I'm sorry."

He gave her a quick glance, since he had detected compassion in her tone. "I believe you are," he said in a much kinder voice than he customarily used with her.

Julian stared at Lavender so long and hard that she ducked her head. "I must hurry in," she said, moving to step around him. "My aunt will be angry with me for being so late."

He caught her hand and pulled her back to him. "You are safe from the ogre tonight. Phoebe informed me that her mistress had gone to the church to deliver mended uniforms."

"1 should have been here to help her transport the uniforms." Again she tried to step around him, but he still clasped her hand.

"Don't go in just yet, Miss Daymond. I want to talk to you about something."

She froze. What if he had come to realize who she was? "Yes, I am . . . listening."

"1 have asked permission of your aunt to escort you to the Eldridges' party on Saturday next, and she has given her consent."

She had expected anything but this. "I couldn't... I never ... I am not going to Elizabeth's party."

Her stammer was beginning to irritate him, making him wish he could withdraw his offer. "I will not take no for an answer. It is my belief that when you are young, you should be lighthearted, dance and have amusement in your life. Every time I see you, you are either rushing to do your aunt's bidding—" his mouth eased into a smile "—or tripping over me."

Lavender would have liked nothing better than to go to a dance with Julian Westfield, but could she risk it? She was immediately suspicious of his motives. Why would he ask her to accompany him to Elizabeth's party? "I do not. . . dance very well," she answered.

His lips thinned with scorn. "To hell with that. You could stand on the sidelines and chat, if that is your wish."

Now she was really suspicious. Whenever possible, Julian had always avoided engaging her in conversation. Why was he suddenly pretending to be interested in her now? "I have nothing suitable to wear," she said quickly. "Besides, I don't like to go to parties. I find them a waste of time."

In vexation he realized he still held her hand and he dropped it. "I am not in the habit of begging women, Miss Daymond. You can either go or not, it is entirely up to you."

Suddenly she wanted to go with him more than anything. Whatever his reason was in asking her, if she accepted his invitation, she could spend a few hours in his company. "Perhaps I. . . can find something to wear, Mr. West."

He bowed stiffly. "Very well. Until next Saturday then." He moved leisurely down the path toward the stables, leaving Lavender to wonder at his strange behavior. The thought of his going away was too painful for her to dwell on. But he was in too much danger here in Williamsburg. Brainard would make good his threat, and she would have to find a way to speed Julian's departure from Virginia. With a heavy heart, she made her way into the house. She would have to be careful that Julian left without gleaning any further knowledge of the Swallow.

Lavender stood on a low stool while Phoebe took neat stitches at the waist of the cream-colored sack dress, the
robe a la francaise
, that had once belonged to her aunt. The gown had been in style some thirty years before, and looked bulky and awkward. Lavender knew the color was wrong for her, since it made her look pale and washed out.

Phoebe snipped the thread, and stood back to admire her handiwork. "You sure is a sight, Miss Lavender. I 'spect you will be the prettiest one there."

"Not quite the way I would have described her," Aunt Amelia said, coming into the room and surprising both Lavender and Phoebe. Amelia turned her eyes on Phoebe, and nodded toward the door, indicating the maid should leave. When Amelia was alone with her niece, she sat down by the window and stared at Lavender, taking in every detail of her appearance.

"You could have had a new gown, Lavender. Why didn't you ask me for one?"

"This one will suit me just fine, Aunt Amelia. I am not looking to be the light of anyone's eye."

"Turn around," her aunt said in a soft voice. "I want to see the back of the gown."

Lavender did as she was told.

"I am going to tell you something that might surprise you, Lavender. I have kept my silence for too long, waiting for the day you would come to me, but you are a proud one and would never ask anyone for anything, would you?"

Lavender was confused, wondering what she had done to displease her aunt this time. She had never seen her aunt in this mood, and wondered at the cause. "I don't understand?"

The soft smile that Amelia bestowed on her shocked Lavender into silence. "The Daymond women, down through history, have always been an independent and stubborn lot. They were all survivors, strong in body and soul, but I believe you have gone them all one better."

Lavender stood undecided. "I am not understanding you, Aunt Amelia. You think I am strong?"

"Surely you do not take me for a fool?"

Lavender was further bewildered. "No, Aunt Amelia, I have never thought of you as a fool."

"I have watched you struggle, trying to fill your father's shoes. I have seen the pain in your eyes when you thought you had no one to share your burden with. I watched you hide your beauty behind those ugly black gowns, knowing your young heart rebelled at the thought. I have been amused when you turned the money over to me that you supposedly earned at the hospital. By the way, I have saved all the money for your future."

Lavender realized her aunt knew her secret when she saw the truth reflected in her eyes. Now was the time for honesty between the two of them. "How long have you known, Aunt Amelia?"

"Known what. . . that you are the Swallow?"

Lavender's face paled to the same shade as the gown she wore. She looked for anger in her aunt's eyes, but saw pride instead. "How did you come to know?"