“Bring Miss Bohannon here,” he told a waiting lieutenant. He called for another officer to decipher the letter, though from his expression,Clinton knew well enough what it contained and wasn’t pleased. Was he merely seeking confirmation?
Time ticked on as she and Lucy took the chairs the general offered. Mae kept an eye on the open door, the eave dripping water. The laundresses wouldn’t be working in such weather. They’d wait till the rain passed before going to the river.
What would Coralie say when confronted? Moreover, what did the confiscated letter say?
Sister, Mae wanted to scream,what have you done?
Her mind whirled as her suspicions came hard and fast. Coralie had never stopped her spying. And Mae had never stopped her sister from doing so. Oh, there had been half-hearted attempts to intercept her letters. But how many had Coralie posted from Chatham and then here without Mae’s knowledge? And now she knew...
Coralie’s supposed parting with Eben Gibbs was naught but a ruse.
By the time the lieutenant returned, her heart pulsed far too fast. She felt its frantic tick in her wrist and neck. She wanted nothing more than to flee this room and her shame and any potential blame.
The young officer looked distressed. “Miss Bohannon is gone, sir. Her quarters are empty, her belongings missing. No one has seen her since late yesterday. The laundresses didn’t wonder as she usually spends her evenings with the soldiers on the common, retires late, and is awake early.”
Mae felt the burn of shame. Coralie had been gathering information from first one soldier and then another. Making the rounds till she had enough to pass on. Talking, flirting, deceiving. Was that it?
Lucy looked at her in sympathy as the general said, “I commend you both for coming to me. I suspect this has been going on since Miss Bohannon first arrived in the Highlands.”
Lucy spoke, but Mae barely heard her. The nausea she’d tried to tamp down bubbled up in the back of her throat till she tastedbile. Murmuring an apology, she bolted toward the open door and barely made it outside.
“May I be of help, Mrs. Harlow?” a concerned soldier asked as he stood to one side of the door.
Mae dug for a handkerchief to wipe her mouth, fearful she’d be sick a second time. “I need to lie down.”
“Here, let me escort you.” He took her by the elbow and slowly guided her back toward her quarters, which seemed as far as Jersey.
Stomach still swimming, she murmured her thanks, wondering why Lucy remained at headquarters.
Betrayed.By her own sister.
Though she needed to lie down, anxiety kept her moving. How would Jon and James react?
She stopped her pacing to look out the sole window to the parade ground. Thunder boomed like cannon fire, one volley after another, raking her nerves. Rain still slashed down, nearly obscuring her view of Rhys as he crossed from headquarters to their barracks.
Finished with his latest foray? Her usual joy fled. When he pushed open the door she realized he knew. Unsmiling, he looked at her, then leaned his rifle against the wall, removing his powder horn and belt. His hatchet and shot pouch and knife were next.
Never had he looked so worn. Or so wet. His hair, blackened by rain, fit his scalp like a snug hat. Water puddled beneath his moccasins. His clothes clung to him, but he didn’t undress. He came farther into the room and stopped at the table.
“Where is your sister?”
The question turned her to ice. She lifted her shoulders in reply.
“How much do you know, Mae?”
Feeling she might be sick again, she pressed her hands to her stomach. “What do you mean?”
“What do you know of your sister’s spying?”
“Very little...” She swallowed hard. “I suspected, is all.”
“You suspected.” His tone was flat. Leaden.
Another round of thunder shook the room, and she heardhorses whinnying outside in distress. It mirrored her own inner turmoil. The ire in his expression terrified her.
His gaze was sword-sharp. “Since when did you suspect?”
“Since...” She fisted her hands in her skirts, her voice a whisper. “Chatham.”
