He hesitated before stepping into the hallway. As he passed me, he paused. His eyes searched mine, and I swallowed, then took a step back to put space between us.
His smile fell as I closed the door.
“Mama is entertaining Mister Goodman, and we’ve just sat down to supper,” I said. “Would you like to join us?”
I could see his uncertainty in the way he held his shoulders and in the way he watched me. “Could we speak alone for a moment?” he asked, his voice low.
“Aye.” No doubt they could hear us within the sitting room and probably knew who had come. “Shall we go out back?”
He nodded and then followed me down the hall to the back door.
The sun was low in the sky, but it was still warm, and I did not need a shawl. Beneath my feet, the shells cracked, and ahead, the bench beckoned us with memories from Christmastide.
He took my hand, guiding me to sit next to him. “What troubles you, Libby?”
I sat, my back stiff. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel angry or frustrated with me. He didn’t deserve anythingbut my complete heart for as long as I could offer it to him. Yet was that wise? Would it only hurt more?
“I have a lot on my mind,” I told him. “But you didn’t come here to hear about my worries.”
He took my other hand in his and rubbed his thumbs across my skin. Just like Christmas, it sent a warm sensation up my arms and into my chest. I longed to lean into him and let everything else fade away. With him this close, the constant ache from the previous months felt heavier somehow.
“I have a lot on my mind, as well.” He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t been back since January. I’ve wanted to be with you and hold you again.”
He tried to draw me into his arms, but I pulled away and stood, my heart pounding against my chest.
“I received your letters.” I wrapped my arms around my waist. “You’ve been in Boston?”
He watched me for a moment, a frown marring his handsome face. “Aye. I’ve only just returned. I’m expected at Edgewater Hall, but I could not go home until I saw you.” He stood and came to me. “What’s wrong, Libby? I cannot bear to see you unhappy. Is it me? Have I hurt or offended you in some way?”
I turned away, uncertain of myself and my emotions. I was making a mess of this whole thing. I was supposed to be kind yet distant. I was supposed to let him go gently and not draw more questions. I’d planned it for months. Yet, standing here with him, I realized I could never willingly let Henry Montgomery go—not until I absolutely had to.
When I looked back at him, the pain in his eyes was so intense that I could not restrain myself any longer. With a soft cry, I went into his arms. Anyone might see us, but I didn’t care. The whole world could know I loved Henry, and I wouldn’t mind.
He was warm and solid and familiar.
“I’ve missed you,” I said. “’Tis been too long, and I’ve been worried about you.”
He held me tight, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry. This is why I knew it was best not to tell you how I felt. I knew it would be too hard for us to bear.”
This would be hard even if I didn’t know he loved me.
“What were you doing in Boston?” I pulled back to look at him.
“Work for the cause.” He took my hands in his and sighed. “After you told me what Lieutenant Addison said, I spoke to some of the Liberty men, and they agreed I needed to cease my work in this colony. You were right. My spying had been compromised. So I was sent to Boston to aid them there. I met with several of the Sons of Liberty and shared the information I had gained, and they shared what information they had with me. I was then sent back here, communicating with several different men along the way and with an extended stay in Philadelphia. I plan to make the trip again at the end of May.”
“The end of May?” I pressed my lips together as grief stole over me. “And how long will you be gone?”
He shrugged. “It might be another three months—unless I’m needed longer.”
That meant that I didn’t have two months left to say good-bye to Henry. I only had about a month—and much of that time he might be at Edgewater Hall. Beyond that, the colonies would be fully engaged in war with Britain, and Henry would be needed.
I let go of his hands and paced away, but he did not follow me. Mama’s flower beds were just coming to life, and I walked around the one containing her tulips, which were yet to bloom. I could not stop Henry from being involved in the war. The cause was as much a part of him as I was. It was just as near and dear to his heart. To ask him to stop would be akin to asking him to quit breathing. Yet I knew the horrors to come.
I turned to face him again. “Please,” I begged, “be careful, Henry.”
There was something deep and heavy in his countenance, a weariness that I recognized and leaned into. “I will try. But, Libby—” He paused as his hand came up to caress my face. “If something should happen to me—”
“Do not speak of such things.”
