Ring of Secrets (45 page)

As her heart lurched into her throat, he wandered over to her shelf and picked up the vial once filled with stain. Only a drop remained—he shook it. “The infamous invisible ink, I presume? Have you the formula? I toyed with a few myself, back at Yale, but I was never satisfied with their darkness when developed.”

She tried to tell her fingers to relax, to direct her hand to set down the weapon. They wouldn't budge. “No, I…Bennet.”

He put down the vial and strode to the scarred desk, lifting her code book and flipping it open. “Ah, the next level of protection.” His
brows knit. “Why did Tallmadge assign numbers to words like ‘a' and ‘an'? They are used so often it all but guarantees the code can be broken by anyone who intercepts it.”

Her eyes slid shut. He knew the code was Tallmadge's. What else did he know? “Bennet…”

“Really, even
I
know that much, and I have certainly bumbled my way through the rest of it.”

“The…you…” She opened her eyes again. “How long have you known?”

He put the book down, but not where she had kept it. Instead, he set it in a crate. Gathering the evidence with which to hang her? Yet he grinned. “Oh, about an hour now, I suppose. Though I am embarrassed to have missed it this long. I grant I had no idea for whom I was looking when I came to the city seeking Washington's spies, but I never suspected you. Townsend, yes—but not you.”

When he came to the city seeking Washington's spies? She raised the pistol a few inches, though she knew even as she clung to it that she couldn't use it. Not against him. Even if he were the enemy, even if he would drag her to the hangman himself, she could never hurt him.

Though he probably didn't realize that when he turned to her again and saw her defensive pose. Which was probably why a mild curse slipped from his tongue. “Will you
please
put that thing down?” Obviously not trusting her to do so, he closed the distance between them, pried it from her grip, and set it on the table.

Never in her life had she felt so exposed. “I'm sorry. I wouldn't…but you…”

He framed her face with his hands, and the love shining from his eyes blanketed her. “Do you really think I would hurt you? Or let you be hurt?”

Surety descended, smothering the doubt and stilling the fear. “No.”

“Good.” He brushed a stray hair from her face and feathered a kiss over her lips. “Even were I your enemy, my love, I would do all in my power to protect you. But the truth is that I did not seek the spies so I might turn you in. I sought you so I might warn you.”

She gripped his wrists, looking from one eye to the other. And still she could not comprehend how those words could be true. “Warn us of what? And why?”

His second kiss lingered a fraction longer. “Why? Well, I'm afraid your grandfather was right—Yale is a hotbed of Whiggish sentiment. I may have gone there a fine, loyal young man, but one of the primary reasons I had never come home was because I could no longer believe the politics my family held dear.”

“You mean you are…” Dare she hope it? “…a Patriot?”

He grinned. “Call me whatever you like. A Patriot. A rebel. A man very relieved to have realized that I need not beg your forgiveness for it, if nevertheless terrified at the danger you have put yourself in with these actions of yours.” He slid his hands down her arms and locked her hands in his. “Why, Winter? Why would you do something so perilous?”

She gripped his fingers and forced a swallow. “My father is not dead, Bennet. He is in Washington's army.”

His eyes widened, and his fingers tightened around hers. “Alive?”

She pressed her lips together. “Are you angry?”

A small smile bloomed. “How could such good news anger me?” He leaned a little closer. “I rejoice for you. Now, please. Continue.”

She drew in a deep breath. “When Robbie asked me if I would pass along information, I knew I had to do whatever I could to help Father's cause—my cause. To bring him back safe and whole. Can you understand that?”

His smile was crooked, his gaze sad. “When I consider that your precious life could be extinguished…nay. And yet obviously I do, because I came to New York for a similar reason. My brother shared a plan I could not bear to see come to be, and so I took actions that will separate me from my family. Already I have written my uncle, confessing my politics and my part in stopping the plan to betray Washington through his most trusted men.”

Her brows knit. “You mean Arnold? But how could your brother have known so long ago—”

“You, Winter. And Townsend and Woodhull and all the rest.”

Her blood ran cold. “I don't understand. There is no treachery among us. We were chosen and bound by trust formed from the deepest of friendships.”

“I know.” His thumb stroked over her knuckles. “'Tis exactly what they intended to use against you. The plan was to feed you false
information, with the certainty that you would pass it along and be believed. And that when Washington acted on it, he would walk directly into General Clinton's—and now Arnold's—trap.”

Fear pounced, clawed, gnashed. “What information?”

Bennet drew in a long breath and held both pairs of joined hands together between them. “Archie's original letter said only that they would use the whaleboaters' reputations as kidnapping pirates to make Washington think someone dear to him had been captured.”

Dear Lord above, let it not be so.
The Spirit had tried to warn her even as she came down here to write that letter, but she had ignored Him. She thought the impression on her heart nothing but her own fears and dismissed it because it contradicted her more rational thoughts.

She shook her head. “No. Bennet, Fairchild told me that just the other day.” New pain pierced. “He must know.”

“'Tis Arnold who suspected it. He undoubtedly told Fairchild to give you the information so they could see if you would pass it on. And if so, plan their ambush for when Washington mounts a rescue.” He leaned closer. “But surely you could not have sent it. Townsend is not here to receive it from you.”

If only that had been enough to silence her. If only she hadn't taken matters into her own hands when Robbie had told her to lie low. “I had Freeman give it directly to Roe not two days ago.”

His eyes slid shut. “Winter.”

“I know.” She rested her forehead on his shoulder, but his comforting presence could not still the quavering that overtook her. “What have I done, Bennet?”

He released her hands and encircled her with his arms. “Nothing that cannot be undone.”

“I cannot send another message. I have no more stain, and Roe will not return for weeks at any rate.” By that time it would be too late. Washington would have already walked into a trap. All because of her.

His arms tightened around her. “Then we will not send a written message. I will deliver one myself. Take the truth straight to Tallmadge.”

She tilted her face up so she might see the determination shining in his eyes. The squeeze of her heart changed in pressure, sweet rather than scared. “You are wonderful for offering, but they will never
believe you. You are a Manhattan Lane, with a brother in the British army and strong ties to England. I will have to go or send Freeman.”

“No. I will not let you remain unprotected in this house. 'Twould be best, in fact, to get you out of the city at the first possible moment.” He held her close, as if he feared she would vanish otherwise. “Together, then. The three of us.”

That made more sense than any other idea. As Woodhull had discovered long ago, a couple traveling together—and a supposed servant would help the image—were not halted nearly as often as a man alone. Woodhull had enlisted his neighbor's wife to ride with him when he must get a message to Brewster. Just as it worked for Culper Senior, Winter's presence with Bennet and Freeman would make their business seem legitimate to both British and Patriot guards. “Yes. We must leave at once. I will go fetch Freeman.”

He held her tight. “One moment more. When I left here earlier, I followed Arnold to a meeting in Holy Ground. That is how I discovered the final pieces of my puzzle. And I met Viney.”

“Viney!” She gripped his cloak. “Is she well? I have prayed for her daily—”

“And she for you. She is nearing the end, my love, convinced she will not last more than a few days. She asked me to give you these.”

He pulled away enough to reach into his pocket, and then he dropped three pearls from her necklace into her hand.

Tears stung her eyes as she closed her fingers over them. “It was sufficient, then. I prayed it would be.”

“The Lord answered your prayer, as He answered mine today.” He tipped her chin up. “You were right. He has been speaking to me all along. Guiding me and directing me. To you. Winter, this is not how I envisioned asking you, but will you be my wife?”

How could hope so quickly replace the panic? She nodded and blinked away her tears, even as he slid something onto her finger. “You know I will.”

He bent down and touched his lips to hers. Then he tightened his hold and angled his head. Hers swam as the kiss moved from the gentle touch he had given her before to one deeper. More demanding, yet more giving. Filled with the promise of a future together full to bursting with all she had begun to think out of her grasp. Companionship
and passion. Love and understanding. A sharing of all the things that mattered.

Winter wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, accepting every drop of feeling he offered. Her knees went weak, but it hardly mattered. Gravity could have no effect, not as light as she felt. The ground seemed to fall away, the heavens to lift her up. His strong arms were surely all the world she needed. His embrace could chase away any chill. Lips against lips, heart against heart, whispers and pulses matched.

Together.

When finally he broke away, she clung a little longer, nestled in a little closer. If only the pleasant haze could remain forever, but already reality intruded. She sighed. “I suppose we had better hurry. You can explain it all to Freeman, and I will gather what I need from the house.”

“No. While I explain it to Freeman, you must gather up anything incriminating from this room. Then the house.”

Of course. Which was why he had put the code book into the crate.

A creak sounded behind them. “What is he explaining to me?” Freeman said from behind her. “Why he is where he ought not to be, perhaps, with my little girl in his arms?”

She spun with a smile, though it was fleeting. “That is legitimate enough. He just proposed.”

Freeman arched a dark brow. “Here?”

“Well, he…that is…” She huffed and looked to Bennet. “Explain. I will pack.”

She dashed about as Bennet went quickly through what had brought him there and the solution they had agreed upon. Inks and quills and papers, into the crate. Books and pamphlets and coin. All into the crate. Each of the little touches she had put here rather than her room in the house—into the crate.

Freeman's face was sober when she faced him again. He nodded. “I can think of no sounder plan. No one will look twice at the three of us together. I wish we could follow the Hudson straight north, but we haven't the British passes. We will have to try to make Patriot territory as quickly as we can. Not to mention that if Arnold gets wind that Winter has disappeared…”

Bennet nodded. “Do you still have your homespun, darling?”

“In my room in the house. I will change before we go.”

“We can take Old Canterbury.” Freeman pursed his lips. “I hesitate to try to liberate the Hamptons' wagon, though.”

Bennet grinned. “No need for that. I stopped at my house on my way here and brought mine, along with a capable horse to pair with Canterbury. Mother and Archie will never miss them.” He turned to her. “Get what you need. We will pack all this into the wagon. Bring only what you must, and you too, Freeman. I already have my belongings.”

“All right.” She paused on her way by to hug Freeman and then to toss her arms around Bennet and gave him a kiss as warm as she could manage in a few seconds. Then she darted up into the stable, through the gardens, and into the house. Thankfully, her grandparents should be out for a while yet.

Once in her room, she threw open the drawers and cabinets and dug her way to the backs of them, where her clothing from Long Island had been pushed. As she bypassed silks and satins and put her fingers to cotton and wool, it seemed she was grasping hold of rightness.

She packed what she needed in a simple bag, including one finer dress for her wedding, and managed to wriggle her way out of the complicated gown she wore. Getting into her homespun required no assistance, thank the Lord. Once dressed, she paused in front of her mirror and smirked at the strange creature reflected. With a few quick motions, she jerked the pins from her hair, shook out the elaborate style, and put it up again in a simple chignon.

There, that was the Winter she had missed so long. The only piece of wealth remaining on her person was the emerald ring she had scarcely looked at yet.