“Shall we head to the market?” Branch asked, taking a coin from the pocket of his waistcoat and leaving it on the table to pay for their food.
Lucy hadn’t yet decided if the man was a criminal pretending to be wealthy, or a wealthy man feigning a jovial … well, she wasn’t sure what Branch Barton was, exactly. He could be a merchant, although he hadn’t mentioned any particular business.
The fact that he was free to wander about, tormenting her, made her think he had more free time than most, yet his clothes weren’t those of the wealthy. Although his attire was of good quality, even nicer than many, there was a roughness about him that no silk coats or satin breeches could hide.
A vision of Branch prancing about in a pair of soft rose satin breeches with flower-embroidered silk stockings nearly made her laugh aloud. She would be more likely to don the breeches than he would.
Amused by her thoughts, Lucy took the last sip of her cider and stood. Branch was quick to stand and pull back her chair for her. Theo did a thorough job of wiping the crumbs from his face on his large linen napkin before they headed to the market and retrieved the peaches her father wanted, along with the fish they would enjoy for their dinner.
Lucy debated inviting Branch to join them for the meal, but couldn’t quite bring herself to ask, even though he had been nothing but polite and kind on their outing.
When he escorted them to the back door of their dwelling, Theo latched onto Branch’s hand.
The big man bent down and smiled at her little brother. “What is it, lad?”
“Would you like to eat with us, Mr. Barton?”
“I would greatly enjoy that, Theo. Thank you for the invitation. However, I have elsewhere I need to be, so I shall offer my regrets and hope you’ll ask me another time.”
Theo looked momentarily disappointed, but nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”
Branch removed Theo’s hat and ruffled his hair, then set it back on his head.
Theo took the fish Branch had carried and rushed inside the open back door.
“Well, thank you, kind sir, for the refreshments, and for accompanying us to the market.” Lucy shifted the basket of peaches she held, then removed what she thought would be the juiciest one and handed it to Branch.
He took it with a pleased smile. “Thank you for adding sweetness to my day, Miss Carlson. Until we meet again,” he said, bowed to her, then left, his long legs carrying him around the end of the building in quick strides.
Lucy refused to have him turn around and find her gaping at him, so she hurried into the kitchen and helped her mother with meal preparations.
As she worked, her thoughts kept returning to Branch Barton.
Who was he, really?
And what did he want with her?
Seven
Lucy forced herself to draw in a calming breath and slowly release it when another customer strolled into the shop.
Earlier, she had sent Theo with a note to the blacksmith, Rowan James, to let him know she had another message to send. It was her third, and each time she wrote the coded message on a slip of paper, she half expected someone to burst into the shop and arrest her for treason.
Thankfully, Philadelphia remained a safe place for Patriots. At least for now.
If the rumors were true, General Washington and the Continental Army were preparing for a battle in New York. All Lucy could do, beyond adding her prayers to those sent heavenward by many others, was listen for any snippet of information that might prove helpful.
She had no idea if the past two notes she had sent—one in the locket, and one in a snuff box she had altered with a removable false bottom in the small case—were of use, but both Rowan and Doctor Gray had encouraged her to send anything she thought might be helpful to the cause.
Just that morning, a pompous man she knew to be a Loyalist had entered the shop with a fellow she didn’t recognize. The two men blithely discussed a letter one of them had received from his nephew, a captain in the British Army, detailing plans for General Howe’s movements on Staten Island. Their casual conversation made the topic seem as though it were of no more importance than deciding if they wanted beef or pork served for dinner.
Immediately after their departure, Lucy had sent Theo to let Rowan know she would have the locket, which had once again mysteriously made its way back to her shelf beneath the workbench, ready to send with a courier.
Rowan had told Theo to let her know a courier would pick it up before the day was over.
At the first opportunity, Lucy had dashed up to her room, written the note in the code that was becoming easier for her to create, and stashed the tiny slip of rolled paper in the hidden compartment of the locket. Fearful of wasting time, she tucked the locket into her pocket and returned downstairs, hoping her father hadn’t noticed her absence.
Lucy had settled onto her stool and worked on carving the intricate filigree pattern of the silver bracelet she had been making for the last few weeks. It would soon be finished, then she could move on to a set of pendeloque earrings. The person who’d ordered them wanted the finest gold and diamonds her father could acquire, and the man had paid the outlandish sum Ward had quoted to him.
