Page 19

Sara stretched to loosen the crick in her neck that inevitably followed a night spent sleeping in a chair. A glance at Evie assured her the child continued to improve. Her breathing was deep and even, her forehead cool to the touch.

She washed and straightened her clothes as best she could before heading downstairs.

They’d finished off all the food in the pantry, and she’d need to cook if they were to eat before Mrs. Hobbes returned.

The thought filled her with dismay. She’d managed to teach herself how to make tea and boil vegetables, but her bread always turned out hard and dry, even though she’d tried for months to perfect her loaves.

Colin had never complained, but she’d sensed his frustration as they’d battled to make a future.

Having a wife without a single useful skill couldn’t have helped.

Sara entered the kitchen and stopped short.

A woman stood at the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like porridge.

She was built along ample lines, with a snowy white apron that enveloped the stiff folds of her black gown.

This must be Mrs. Hobbes, back from her daughter’s confinement and ready to resume charge of the household.

A warmhearted woman from the sound of it. Fond of Evie.

The older woman turned at the sound of Sara’s steps. Her eyes narrowed, traveling over Sara and the smile died on Sara’s face.

“You must be the nurse,” she said, her voice clipped. “Well, I’m back. We won’t need your services anymore.”

The older woman’s dismissive tone set fire to the pride that still burned low inside her. Sara raised her chin. “Mr. Kinney hasn’t said anything to me about leaving.”

A faint flush rose in the woman’s cheeks. “If you’re waiting for your wage, you can sit on the back step until Mr. Kinney has finished his breakfast.” She turned back to the stove, effectively dismissing Sara.

Sara’s flash of spirit evaporated. She blinked and swallowed back a sudden rush of tears. It was time to return to reality. This wasn’t her home.

“Very well,” she said, her voice wooden.

“The porridge is ready. You might as well eat before you go.” Mrs. Hobbes plopped a bowl on the table, her voice gentler now. “I’m sure Mr. Kinney won’t be long.”

Sara didn’t want to wait for James Kinney to drop a few coins in her hand. She’d nursed Evie because she wanted to, because Evie was the closest thing to a daughter she’d ever have.

But that porridge might be all she ate today. Pride was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Instead of striding out the door with her dignity intact, Sara pulled out a chair and ate her breakfast.

Pounding at the front door woke James where he’d fallen asleep, his head on the table.

It was morning, judging by the light streaming through the east window.

He stretched his aching shoulders, noting the distant clatter of dishes and the faint smell of coffee and sizzling sausage. Mrs. Hobbes had returned.

The knock sounded again, louder now, and he lurched to the front hall, running a hand through his tousled hair before opening the door.

Andrew Ridley stood on the front stoop, his clothes rumpled, face unshaven. “I saw your message as soon as I returned. How is Evie?”

James stepped aside and motioned for Andrew to enter. They about the same height, though the younger man was slimmer, with a natural elegance to his posture and an easy, engaging manner that drew people to him.

“She’s much improved.” James permitted himself a smile. “I think she’s over the worst of it.”

Andrew’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank God. She’s all of Amelia I have left.” His eyes met James’s. “All we have left.”

James nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of the pain they shared.

“How did she catch it?” Andrew took off his tall beaver hat and shrugged out of his coat.

“She...” James hesitated. If he didn’t tell Andrew the truth, Evie would. “She ran away last week. Ended up in Irish Town where the fever’s running rampant. I brought her back straightaway, but...”

Andrew snorted. “I told you something like this would happen.” Now that his initial panic had subsided, Andrew fell back on his old confidence. “The girl runs wild. Evie should be at school.”

“Evie belongs with me.” James inhaled, praying for calm. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you for weeks,” he said, turning the topic. “Where have you been?”

A spark of excitement lit Andrew’s face. “I’ve been traveling with Mackenzie.”

James’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t expected such an open admission that the rumors were true. He gestured for Andrew to follow him into the dining room. “To what purpose?” he asked, once the door was shut.

“They’ve formed vigilance committees in every settlement. Dozens—hundreds of men have signed up. They’re willing to do whatever it takes to form responsible government.”

James shook his head. “Whatever it takes? Short of rebellion, I hope. That would be madness.”

“It’s not madness. It’s the only way forward. There won’t be a colony left for Evie’s generation if things continue as they are. The governor and his cronies won’t listen to reason, not when their profits are at stake.”

“This is the path to ruin.” James ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the words that would sway Andrew. “You know it as well as I do. Calmer heads must prevail.”

“Calmer heads?” Andrew threw up his hands. “Where has that gotten us?”

“You helped me draft a letter of complaint to the House of Lords just last month. Colonel Fitzgibbon assured us it would get into the right hands in London. Surely that’s a sign that Britain will listen.”

Andrew snorted. “No one in the House of Lords is going to read that letter.” He shook his head. “James, this is the time for action, not letters. For once in your life, stop prevaricating and take a stand. Join us.”

James considered himself a calm, careful man, not given to bursts of temper. Andrew could get under his skin with a few well-chosen words. Amelia had been just the same, prodding and poking at his weaknesses until he gave in or retreated into icy silence.

Now he wondered if Andrew had a point. Perhaps what he thought was caution and good sense was a cover for his inability to act. He’d been unable to decide Evie’s future for weeks and look where it got them.

He thought of Irish Town, of the poverty and despair that had followed those immigrants halfway around the world. Change was needed. Still, the thought of rebellion and the bloodshed that would follow sickened him. “I can’t leave Evie,” he muttered. “She’s not well.”

“You said she’s better. Mrs. Hobbes can watch her for a few days.” Andrew stepped closer, his eyes refusing to let James retreat. “I have supported you since you first stepped foot in this colony. We need your help.”

“We?”

“I’ve made some friends.” Andrew’s chin tilted at a proud angle. “They sought me out. Said they needed a legal mind on their side.”

James bit his lip to mask his skepticism. “They know of your ties to Ballantine and the others?”

“Of course,” Andrew said, his voice defensive. “I’ve nothing to hide.”

“You don’t think they could be using you to—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. These are honorable men, not spies.” There wasn’t a flicker of doubt on Andrew’s face. “Join us, James. Together, we could do so much good.”

James paced to the window, staring unseeing at the street. “I want to do good.” He turned his head to look at Andrew over his shoulder. “That’s why I caution you to think this through. Rebellion... it’s treason.”

“Now is not the time for caution—” Andrew broke off, inhaling deeply. “Is that sausage?”

James suppressed a smile. For all that Andrew was a grown man of seven and twenty, he still reminded James of an impetuous boy. Perhaps a meal could mellow him when James’s careful reasoning could not.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me for breakfast?” James said.

Andrew sent him a sheepish grin. “Haven’t eaten yet.”

James couldn’t repress an answering smile. “I’ll ask Mrs. Hobbes to set another place.”

He strode to the kitchen, the welcome for Mrs. Hobbes on his lips dying at the sight of Sara at the table, a bowl of porridge in front of her. She didn’t look up when he entered. Instead, she seemed to shrink into her chair, her shoulders bowed down in a way he’d never seen before.

“Ah, Mr. Kinney,” Mrs. Hobbes said. “I told the nurse you’d be along with her wages. She’ll be leaving now that I’m back.”

James froze, his eyes traveling between the two women. Mrs. Hobbes stood confident, a faint challenge in her stance while Sara O’Connor kept her chin down and her eyes trained on her breakfast.

“I see,” James said, though he didn’t at all. He needed to talk to Sara. Alone. “Mrs. Hobbes, welcome back. Would you set a place for Mr. Ridley? He’ll be joining us for breakfast.”

Mrs. Hobbes nodded and bustled off to the dining room, leaving James and Sara alone. Sara rose and carried her bowl to the sink.

“You’re leaving?” he said, finding his voice.

Her brows knitted together. “I thought you wanted me to go. Mrs. Hobbes said—”

“I told Mrs. Hobbes I’d hired a nurse for Evie, nothing more.” Perhaps she didn’t want to go. He still could convince her to stay.

“Oh.” Sara dropped her eyes. “Well, Evie is better. I thought I’d spare her a long farewell that would be painful to us both.” She raised her eyes from the ground slowly, as though lifting something heavy. “Now that she’s better, everything can go back to the way it was.”

James swallowed, his throat dry as dust. She was probably right, so why did her leaving feel so wrong? “Don’t you think you should wait? Just to be sure all is well?” He wondered if she heard the desperation in his voice. Sara couldn’t leave, not yet, not like this. He needed her.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Sara glanced over his shoulder, her eyes widening a moment before she dropped her chin, hiding her expression beneath her mobcap.

“Who’s this?” Andrew said from behind him.

“This is Evie’s nurse, Miss O’Connor.”

Andrew’s gaze raked Sara from head to foot before he turned back to James with raised brows.

“You couldn’t find a doctor?”

“Andrew,” James said, a warning in his voice. “I owe Miss O’Connor a great debt. She saved Evie’s life.”

Andrew signaled his disbelief with a snort.

“I very much doubt that.” He turned his gaze back to Sara, assessing her in a way that made James long to knock his teeth down his throat.

“Well, I suppose she’ll be on her way, now that Evie’s better.

” He motioned to the door with a faint frown of distaste.

In that moment James saw Sara through Andrew’s eyes. Worn, shapeless dress, her beautiful, creamy skin and intelligent eyes hidden by a floppy mobcap in need of starch.

James had made the same hasty judgments when he’d first met Sara. Now he saw her gentle wisdom, her capable intelligence. The warmth in her eyes that drew Evie to her. Drew him closer, too.

But she was leaving, and they might never see her again. Loss, as bitter as bile, pressed on him.

“You mistake the situation, Andrew,” he blurted out, his voice loud in the silent kitchen.

Sara and Andrew both turned and stared at him.

A trickle of sweat slid down his neck. He wasn’t an impulsive man.

He mulled over new cases for days. Yet now he spoke without sparing a moment to consider the consequences.

“Miss O’Connor isn’t just the nurse. She’s Evie’s governess.”