No voices, but a light scuffling noise sounded that might be footsteps.
She tapped on the door. “It’s Audrey. I’ve brought food.”
The footsteps neared from the other side. The bar clanged as it slid open, and the door parted to reveal Philip. Audrey glanced around the room, but no one else seemed to be inside except Monsieur Masters, sitting on a fur mat in the center of the room. Philip was one of the most trusted guards, as proven by the fact he’d been left alone to guard the new prisoner.
Audrey stepped in and did her best to lighten the mood with a smile. “I suspect our visitor is in need of something warm and nourishing.” She glanced at Philip. “I can come back with a tray for you, too, if you’d like.”
Philip shook his head, then glanced at the man watching them from the fur. “I’m not sure this is the right time for him to eat. I’d rather wait until Brielle comes back from the council meeting.”
Unease curled in her middle. “I’m sure it can’t hurt to let him eat a bit of soup and drink warm tea while we wait. I won’t even ask you to untie him. I can help him eat.”
Philip’s gaze turned uncertain. Before he could voice another protest, she shifted to the man on the floor. With his ankles tied, he sat with his knees bent before him and his hands behind his back. Such a position couldn’t be comfortable. Wariness cloaked his expression as he watched her, as though he suspected she might have an ulterior motive.
She offered a warm smile to thaw his suspicion as she lowered the tray to the fur beside him, then dropped to her knees where she could spoon soup into his mouth and lift the cup for him to drink.
“I always keep a stewpot warming, so this is full of all manner of goodness for the body and soul. I added a bit of echinacea to the tea to ward off winter’s chill. I know you’ve been outdoors for a while and may have picked up a sniffle or two.”
The guarded look in his eyes eased as she spoke, turning to something like gratitude, or at least the beginnings of it.
She lifted the cup to his lips, letting her gaze roam his face as he drank. She’d done this act for others in the village hundreds of times, nursing those too sick to help themselves. She always tried to use these moments of closeness to see the real person, to look beneath one’s weary, lined face to the beautiful soul beneath.
But with this man, she didn’t have to look far to see outer beauty. The chiseled jaw, the strong cheekbones, the sharp intensity of his eyes—all of it made her heartbeat speed up. Without his fur hat, his tousled brown locks lay in loose waves, the perfect thickness to run her fingers through.
She jerked her gaze down to his face again as something flipped in her middle. She shouldn’t be thinking of such. This might be her only opportunity to gauge his character, to find out anything more that would help her plead his case.
When she focused on his eyes, she saw he already watched her, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp of the tea. She lowered the cup to allow him a chance to breathe and to provide some much-needed space between them.
What could she ask him to learn more? Perhaps she should start with allowing him a chance to correct his earlier lie to her.
Reaching for the bowl and spooning a hearty scoop of potato and meat, she kept her voice casual. “So, traveling with Evan, were you?”
His expression took on a proper level of chagrin. More than chagrin, even. Closer to shame. He dipped his chin, his eyes falling too. “I’d never realized how much lying was expected in my profession. Not until I got away from Washington, away from the need for so many falsehoods. The Lord’s been working with me on that very thing all the way up from America. That lie I told you was my first in months, and it brought back all the guilt I’ve been feeling for years now. Between when I saw you by the creek and when I reached the gates of your village, I finally decidedno more.” He met her gaze, his eyes rich with earnestness. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I’ve asked God’s forgiveness, and now I ask yours.”
Her chest squeezed as she studied the rich brown of his eyes. “Of course.”
She could trust this man. His eyes held no guile. No sign of anything feigned. And now she should be equally forthcoming. She spooned a bite of stew into his mouth. “I’m afraid our people aren’t very open toward the English. We had a bad experience with some of your countrymen, and I’m not certain our citizens will be willing to trust you.”
Monsieur Masters’s brows lowered in concern. “I suspectedyour people were sympathetic to America with the way they welcomed MacManus. They do know the war is over, right? Both countries signed the peace treaty not two months ago.”
Hope surged in Audrey’s chest. The two countries no longer fought? Surely this news would help his cause with the council. She had to make certain they knew. Evan likely had told them, but she had to be sure.
Though every part of her longed to leave the man and run to the assembly room, she held her self still long enough to spoon one more hearty bite into his mouth. “I think Evan would have told them, but perhaps I should go check.”
Hope flared in his gaze, the same as what swelled inside her. “Go, then. Don’t waste time on me.”
She hesitated, glancing from the mostly full bowl in her hands to the half-drained cup on the tray. Leaving the man with food, yet without the ability to feed himself, went against everything within her.
“Go, if you think it’ll make a difference. Please. Food can wait.”
His final words sent her into motion. She placed the bowl back on the tray and rose, glancing at Philip as she strode to the door. “I need to take care of something. Cut his hands loose, Philip. Please. At least until he finishes eating.”
She didn’t wait to see if he obeyed, just slipped through the door and sprinted down the long corridor.
When she neared the tall double doors, she slowed, forcing in deep, steady breaths as she collected herself. Would the council reprimand her for barging in? Surely not if she possessed a piece of pertinent information. She had to make sure she didn’t come across as an impulsive schoolgirl, eager to spread gossip.
Lord, grant me favor with them. She smoothed her hands over her skirt and inhaled a steadying breath, then reached for one of the doors and pulled it wide enough to slip inside.
Perhaps it was the sound of her step on the stone floor, or the rustle of her skirt, or simply the flash of movement as she stepped into the room, but the eyes of every council member turned to face her. They sat in the same area where they’d questioned Monsieur Masters. All families were represented as far as she could tell, including her father. Brielle also sat in the circle, as she sometimes did in her role of Le Commandant, leader of the guards and hunters. Evan sat beside her.
