Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes upon the scene of the soldier and the musket.When he did, Lise came swiftly to his mind.Clever, amusing, adventurous and wonderfully passionate.Lise.
Footsteps strode across the bare wooden floor, whose carpet had undoubtedly been rolled up and taken along with any other luxuries.Almost reluctantly, Jonathan lifted his heavy lids.Both the tall officer and the one with dull eyes had entered the room.The latter took a seat at the other end of the table.The former, the one who questioned, came to stand in front of Jonathan, looking down at him.
“Here you are, Mr.Bowen.”The man addressed him by the name on Jonathan’s papers, his identification devoid of any title.“Feeling well, I trust.”
Jonathan hated games but would try to engage.“Sound as a bell.What about yourself, Lieutenant?”
The officer frowned.“Captain!”he corrected.
Jonathan shrugged, just pricking him wherever and whenever he could.
“I want you to explain why you were seen at an estate near Eutin?”
Jonathan met the officer’s gaze steadily, although his heart hammered at the mention of Eutin.He furrowed his brow, as if trying to recall.
“That was weeks ago,” he said, as if it was utterly inconsequential.“I was surveying the best overland route between the coast and Kiel.That took me through Eutin.”He shrugged as if to say,What of it?Then he added, “The work takes me wherever it will.”
Now he was certain Friedrich Albrecht was the man he’d seen through the cellar window.Weeks ago, Lise’s intended had noticed Jonathan’s horses in the stable, examined his saddle, probably recognized the superiority of the small British stitches, the slight difference in the workmanship of an English saddle.
And since the man’s arrival, he’d no doubt been shown those same horses and tack again.
But Jonathan couldn’t fathom why Albrecht would endanger his betrothed’s family.
The officer turned heel and strode a few feet, then turned again.“Would you prefer well water or small beer?”
“Why do you ask?”Jonathan retorted, not taking the bait, although he could hear the raspy, desperate tone to his own voice.
“Consider it a gesture of goodwill,” the officer said.“We are not barbarians, monsieur.Cooperate with us, and your circumstances will continue to improve.”
The implied threat was clear enough.Give them answers, and he might be granted a sip of water.Refuse, and he’d return to the cellar or somewhere worse.
Well, they could wait until the reign of Queen Dick, for all he cared.But hoping against hope, he answered with as much vigor as he could muster.
“I’ll take a glass of each, Captain, as well as a roasted chicken and a feather mattress for tonight.I’m used to better accommodations than I’ve been given here.”
The officer stared at him for a few long seconds.Then he started to laugh.The other one, seated at the end of the table, joined in.
In quick French, the captain told the soldier at the door to bring a glass of water.Jonathan would accept it gladly, but his thoughts were fixed on Friedrich Albrecht.Was he a collaborator?Or had he been brought in for questioning?
In his well-tailored coat, given the way he’d tossed the reins to one soldier while chatting with the others, his bearing confident, it seemed the man could come and go as he pleased.
The coincidence was too great.Friedrich must have been summoned here to identify the spy, at least by his mounts, which meant the bastard had previously told the French what he’d seen and where.The only advantage Jonathan had was that no one realized he’d seen Friedrich arrive or knew who he was.
Sure enough, his existence was brought up next.
“Coincidentally, we have a visitor who may be able to assist with your case,” the officer said pleasantly.“A local gentleman who has been very helpful in identifying suspicious persons.”
Jonathan kept his expression neutral, his only fear at the moment being for Lise and her parents.Her family would face French scrutiny, accusations of harboring an enemy agent.Everything he’d tried to protect by leaving them would be destroyed.Even the young stable boy was at risk.
“I don’t know anyone in this region personally,” Jonathan said.“Certainly not anylocalgentleman.As for my being suspicious, I’ve explained who I am, and I have papers.I’m a surveyor.My work keeps me isolated.”
The officer smiled, unconvinced.“And it keeps you far from home, apparently.Despite your excellent French, I know you are British.Why would this ...Diederichs company hire you all the way from across the sea?Especially when our countries are not on the friendliest of terms?”
“My employer pays for expertise, not allegiance,” Jonathan quipped, hoping he sounded sufficiently above the fray between Bonaparte and King George.“I am skilled and in high demand,” he added in a sharper tone.“And rivers do not change their course according to nationality.”
The officer narrowed his eyes, and Jonathan thought he might have convinced him.It was more important than ever to get free of the French and ride hell bent for the von Ostenfeld estate, no matter how much danger that put him in.He would do whatever he could to warn her.Lise was trapped in a betrothal to a French sympathizer.
Friedrich smiled and laughed with the forces occupying Lise’s homeland.Perhaps, it was merely opportunistic self-preservation on the man’s part.On the other hand, it might be something more calculated.
