“Theo, would you mind getting the cheese from Mr. Bauer? He’ll know what to give you.” Lucy handed her brother a coin and gave him a nudge toward one of the stalls where they often purchased butter, milk, and cheese.
She waited until Theo was out of earshot to face the man. He motioned toward the bench where Lucy had been headed, and they walked there together. With her knees about to knock into each other, Lucy was grateful for a place to sit. By determination alone, she managed to keep her hands from shaking as she set the basket beside her and slid a hand into her pocket, prepared to protect the locket until she felt assured this man was the courier whom Mrs. Washington had sent to retrieve the piece of jewelry.
“How do you know Patsy?” Lucy asked, uncertain what she was expected to say or do.
“Her husband is a man I greatly admire,” the man said, settling beside her on the bench. “If ever there was a man to lead, he is surely one of the best.”
Lucy remained silent, afraid if this man were a spy for the Redcoats, it could cause trouble for her father’s shop.
“You are among friends, miss. I promise I do not have ill intentions. I merely wanted to offer you a cup of sassafras tea, if you are so inclined. It makes such a fine cup of liberty tea. Or would a packet of sassafras leaves for your cooking pot be more to your liking.”
“Tea would be lovely, sir. Before I accept the kind offer, might I know your name?”
Barely perceptible to her, he shook his head and spoke beneath his breath. “That is not advisable nor wise. It’s best not to know. I admire your willingness to help the cause, though, and promise I shall do my utmost to safely deliver a trinket in your possession, left by Patsy in your shop after she tucked it into her glove, and it was returned to her over a cold supper in her garden last evening.”
No one would have known all those details unless Mrs. Washington had shared them. Lucy used her basket to hide their hands as she transferred the locket into the courier’s palm. She felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from around her neck when he tucked it into the pocket of his waistcoat and then stood.
“Perhaps we’ll enjoy that cup of sassafras tea another time, miss. Good day to you.” He tipped his head to her, then strode off so abruptly, she rapidly lost sight of him in the crowd.
Theo dashed over to her with the cheese their father liked best and a few slices their mother preferred, and set them in the basket. He plopped down beside her, unable to sit still as his feetbegan to swing back and forth on the bench. “Mr. Bauer let me taste a new kind of cheese he made, Luce. It was good.”
“How wonderful, Theo. Would you like to share one of the bread knots?” she asked, lifting out what the German baker who’d made them called a bretzel. Lucy had also heard them referred to as love knots, preposterous as that name seemed to be. The dough was soft and salty, tied into a knot and cooked to a rich brown hue. Lucy enjoyed them every bit as much as Theo.
She broke the knot in half and handed part of it to Theo, then pinched off a bite and set it on her tongue.
“You look like you could use a bit of refreshment,” a deep, resonant voice spoke at the same time a shadow moved in front of her, blocking the blistering heat from her face.
Lucy was grateful she hadn’t choked on the bite and managed to swallow before she tipped her head back and stared at Branch Barton. He smiled at her as he held out a cup of cold cider.
Mercy, but he was even more handsome than she had allowed herself to remember. His golden hair was neatly combed into a queue and tied with a black ribbon. The breeches, shirt, waistcoat, and jacket he wore were better quality than many, but not so fine as to hint at wealth.
When she settled her gaze on his eyes, she realized she hadn’t imagined their depths, nor the verdant color that did indeed appear to be the same as moss from a shady glen suddenly caught in streams of sunlight. Defined cheekbones, sensual lips, and a firm jawline added to his undeniable appeal.
However, she had no intention of spending a moment with him, knowing he wasn’t Mrs. Washington’s nephew as he had so brashly claimed when he had tried to appropriate the woman’s gloves, and, presumably, the locket.
Then again, she was parched, and the cider looked most refreshing.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup and taking a sip before holding it out to Theo.
Her brother took a drink and handed the cup back to her, but Lucy could see he wanted to ask how she knew Branch.
“Who might this little shaver be?” Branch asked, settling one boot-clad foot on the bench beside Lucy and leaning an elbow on it in a pose she found far too casual for her liking. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had been watching her. Had he seen the courier sit beside her on the bench? Had he been astute enough to realize she had passed the man the locket?
Her mouth again felt as dry as if she had eaten a spoonful of salt. She took a long drink from the cup of tart cider, letting it linger on her tongue a moment before she answered Branch’s question.
“This is my brother, Theo.” She glanced at Theo and gave him an encouraging look. “Say hello to Mr. Branch Barton, Theo.”
“Hello,” Theo said, looking up at Branch as though he were meeting a hero from one of the stories their mother told them.
Much to Lucy’s dismay, something about Branch definitely looked the part. It might have been his broad shoulders or the strength visible beneath his well-fitted clothes. It could have been the engaging smile on his ridiculously attractive face. Likely, it was his charming persona that seemed bigger than himself.
“What brings you two out on a scorching day like today?”
“Mama sent us to get a fish, and Papa wanted bread and cheese,” Theo said, then rubbed a finger along the side of his nose. “Oh, and we forgot the blueberries. Mama likes them better than we all do, but we don’t tell her.” The little boy offered Branch an impish grin.
“I’ll keep that secret until they drop me into my grave, Theo. What is your favorite fruit?”
Theo expounded on the reasons he loved apples, strawberries, pears, and peaches, then suddenly seemed to recall the bit of dough he still held in his hand. “Would you like a piece, Mr. Barton?”
