How long would it take to hang the fat crow, Orpha? He’d string her up next to her husband. Of course, he’d require a thicker rope and Two Eagles’ assistance.
He pushed the crust around his plate, and contemplated the evening’s discussion while Orpha prattled, cringing at the rasping sound of her voice every time she opened her mouth. He glanced at the tapestry he had seen Juliet regarding and wondered why. The weaving was a unique piece. In Belvoir Castle hung a superior version that would hold her in greater awe.
He was quite taken with how Juliet flushed under his perusal. Her mouth was both generous and beautiful; the lips had color and warmth, possessing none of the narrowness he’d witnessed in many women’s faces, where jealousy or avarice flourished—like Orpha holding court at the end of the table.
How easy it had been to manipulate Horace and gather crucial information. Joshua had to scout out Colonel Butler, the head of the hydra of the infamous British Rangers and what was occurring at Fort Niagara. He turned back to Horace, struck again by the unusual nature of his hair, a white patch roving down his scalp, the remainder black.
He had heard of the Patriots’ failure to woo the Indians. There had been conversations with his commanders and General Washington over the vulnerability of the Patriots on the frontier, especially with the menfolk far away in Washington’s army and unable to protect their families. The exposure on the frontier grew more alarming each day.
Joshua bit back a string of curses. “The Iroquois are natural allies of the British as the swamps and forests. The Haudenosaunee or peoples of the Longhouse have fought in each war in America during the previous century. To have expected them to remain neutral in this war was beyond the power of man.”
Horace clanged his fork on his plate and grabbed at the tray of apple pie and gingerbread cake, piling many slices on his plate. “What a great mistake the Oneidas made, turning their backs on those advocating to raise their hatchets on behalf of the King.”
A King on the other side of the ocean who cared nothing for his subjects except for what tribute could be exacted from them.Joshua opened his mouth to criticize, then stopped.
Horace steepled his flabby fingers. “They are a bunch of spiders the lion will crush with his foot.”
Palms up, Joshua spanned his hands. “Such are the wages of war.”When the spiders unite, their webs will tie up the lion.
Joshua stood. “The evening is late. I bid you goodnight.” He didn’t care one whit for Horace or Orpha or his rudeness by ending the conversation abruptly. His mind was occupied with Juliet. By now, she’d have the bath filled and left the kitchen. Or maybe she’d still be there.
He hoped so.
Before Juliet had departed, her eyes had been cast downward. Of course, he’d at no time take advantage of the maid. His fondest wish was to wipe away her miseries. Still, he’d caught a hint of defiance, glimmerings of the proud fire-breathing she-dragon hovering over Horace that afternoon, not a girl beaten into submission. The devil in him looked forward to rekindling her temper. He hoped he didn’t earn a bucket of scalding water dumped on him in return.
Chapter Five
He entered the kitchen and stepped back in shadow to observe the two women undetected. With her back to him, Juliet had planted herself in the path of her friend, Mary who struggled with an armload of blankets. Side by side, he was struck by the contrast of the two and perceived where Horace’s greed won out. Juliet didn’t possess her friend’s angelic beauty and temperament. Mary fainted at the slightest provocation where Juliet would impale him on tines and make the act more harrowing. Where Mary was lovely, Juliet personified stunning sensuality.
“Can you open the door for me?” Mary shifted, straining from the burdensome load. A blanket slid off the pile and fell to the floor.
Juliet refused to budge from her position. “Where are you going?”
“The heathen is sleeping in the barn.”
“I thought you were scared of him.”
“Mistress Orpha ordered it.”
“And going out there alone makes it right? I don’t trust him. He’s dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Humph.” Juliet picked up the blanket, plopped it on the top of the pile and swung open the door. “I’ll be done cleaning the kitchen soon. Every nerve in my body is shrieking to finish the dishes, fill the tub and leave before the counterfeit rascal finishes talking to Horace.”
Counterfeit rascal?Joshua arched a brow. She was far too discerning. With certainty, she had listened closely to him…far too closely. He mulled over the evening’s conversation. Nothing she could glean from what he’d said. He was a spy and still alive thanks to his exact attention to detail. What were her political leanings? He would provoke her thoughts and understand her position.
His gaze fell to where she stepped out onto the porch. A triangle of light spilled on her. “It is a clear night…if you must have help—” she called to Mary. She stayed glued to the spot despite the freezing temperature, and then exhaled, her breath frosting on the night air. “If you need me—”
Her friend slogged through the snow, commandeering the bundle of blankets, her lantern sashaying in the wind then dimming when she closed the door to the barn. An emaciated servant boy carried buckets of water drawn from the well. Joshua frowned. All the servants in the Hayes’ employ were thin and starved.
Juliet followed the boy inside, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Put the buckets next to the fire, Eldon. On the table is a plate of food for you. Go to bed. You’re exhausted. I’ll collect the plate in the morning and no one will know.”
Juliet was clearly the boy’s protector. A trait Joshua admired.
“Thank you, Juliet.” Eldon hugged her and picked up his plate. “Goodnight, sir.”
“Sir?” She whirled, a dainty hand flew to her chest. “How long have you been standing there?”
