“He is what, Luce?” her mother asked, sounding innocent and sweet, although the mischief dancing in her eyes and the smile on her face gave away her intent to tease.
Lucy sighed and shook her head, allowed Theo to grab her hand, and hurried back into the shop, where her father and Branch were involved in a discussion about the various types of precious metals used in their jewelry pieces.
Ward gave Lucy a few coins and winked at her before returning his attention to their visitor.
Branch politely tipped his head to her father. “I enjoyed our conversation, sir. Thank you for an education in precious metals.” Branch lifted his hat and motioned to the door. “Shall we?” he asked Lucy.
“Let’s go!” Theo said, yanking on Lucy’s hand as she followed him outside.
The sun was a bright yellow orb glittering in the deep summer-blue sky. A slight breeze blew, carrying the scents of fish, tar, and molasses up from the river.
“Is there somewhere you’d like to walk before we visit the market?” Branch asked, sounding like a solicitous suitor instead of a stranger Lucy barely knew.
“May we go to The Coffee House?” Theo piped in, giving Branch a hopeful look.
Lucy gaped at her brother, unaware he even knew The Coffee House existed, let alone possessed a desire to visit the place. The building had been established as a merchant exchange—a place where Philadelphia residents came to get the latest news and buy tickets for concerts, lectures, and other events. The governor and other officers were known to frequent the business, holding court in private booths. Merchants and shipmasters talked of business plans and secured deals. The darker side of the popular venue was manifested in the sales of enslaved people and auctions that took place in front of thebuilding, not to mention the public floggings that occurred just outside its door.
Lucy had never set foot inside the place and highly doubted her parents had either.
Branch shook his head and gently squeezed Theo’s shoulder with his big hand. “That is no place for a fine lad like you, Theo. How about a sweet potato biscuit and a cup of cider instead?”
Theo grinned. “Yes, please!”
Together, they made their way to a tavern known for its good food and connections to those supporting the pursuit of liberty and freedom. From what Lucy had heard in snatches of conversation, the tavern kept a table in the back reserved for members of the Continental Congress to use whenever they liked.
Half hopeful to snatch a glimpse of Ben Franklin or John Adams, she did her best to behave with decorum as Branch pulled out a chair at a table. She settled onto it, unaccustomed to the opportunity to find herself with a handsome escort.
Theo’s eyes were wide and full of interest as he looked around.
Branch placed orders for a plate of sweet potato biscuits with butter and cups of cider, then leaned back in his chair and smiled at Theo and then Lucy.
“Well, what mischief have the two of you been into this week?” he asked, his tone light and conversational.
Lucy had a feeling Branch never said or did anything without a purpose or a reason, and wondered why he had brought them there and why he was feigning an interest in the mundane details of their everyday lives. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was there to gather information to use in a spy network.
The thought of Branch being a spy for the Redcoats made the knot in her stomach painfully tighten. Why should she care what the man did?
She shouldn’t, but her concern remained.
Was he spying on those who’d gathered there?
Many times, she had asked herself the question of whether he was a Loyalist, a Patriot, or a Redcoat in disguise. If he were part of the British Army, it would certainly explain several things, like his ability to wander about when most men were working.
“And then Miles squashed it like this,” Theo said, and slapped his hands together, abruptly yanking Lucy from her musings.
Branch chuckled, and Lucy wondered what story she had missed, lost as she had been in her thoughts of their fine-looking escort.
A plate with half a dozen biscuits, a crock of creamy butter, and three cups of cold, tart cider were placed on the table.
Lucy bowed her head and offered silent gratitude for the food, and added a hasty word of thanks for Branch, who had provided it.
Theo alternated between stuffing himself with biscuits, sipping his cider, and hanging on Branch’s every word as the man relayed an adventurous story from his youth.
Lucy had no idea if he spoke the truth or merely spun a good tale. Either way, Theo was clearly delighted, and that was what mattered most.
When the last biscuit had disappeared, Branch wiped his mouth on his linen napkin and leaned back, bracing his arm on the back of Lucy’s chair. She bristled at the gesture that felt too familiar and intimate to her.
As though he were fully aware of her feelings, Branch grinned at her, then turned his attention back to Theo as the boy finished the last of his cider.
