Lucy watched with her heart in her throat when Branch bent and scooped Theo onto one arm and shifted him to sit on his shoulder. Theo took the hat from Branch’s head and settled it on his own, making Nate and Sarah laugh.
Apparently, Branch made introductions, because by the time they all arrived at the table in the shade where the food had been set out, Theo was referring to the couple by their Christian names.
“I see you’ve met Theo,” Katherine said with a grin. “Might I assume, Branch Barton, that you are also familiar with my granddaughter?”
Branch swung Theo down and set him on his feet, then bowed politely to both Katherine and John before he tossed Lucy a sly wink.
“As a matter of fact, we have met.” He glanced to Sarah and Nate, then back at Katherine. “Auntie Sarah told me your grandchildren were visiting, but I assumed, quite wrongly, they were both the age of Theo. No names were given, or I would have known straight away that your visiting relations were none other than my friends from High Street. I certainly didn’t expect the privilege of sharing dinner with the two Carlson siblings.”
“We are so delighted you could join us, Branch. I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Lucy or Theo,” Katherine said, placing her hand on Branch’s arm and guiding him to the table. “I also didn’t realize you’d been in Philadelphia. I believe the last time we saw you, you were in New York.”
“That’s right, ma’am.” Branch spoke to Katherine, but his gaze settled on Lucy. He looked as taken by surprise as she felt.
Branch Barton’s presence at her grandparents’ farm left her with no idea of what to make of it.
Eight
Branch could hardly gather his wits together long enough to bow his head when John Danvers offered a blessing on their meal.
He had arrived at his farm last night after a few harrowing days of spy work, trailing someone he had been sure was a Redcoat spy to confirm his suspicions were correct, which they were. After nearly being stabbed and shot, he had decided he needed a few days of rest. Rather than return to Philadelphia, he had sent a message to his commander with a courier, and headed to the farm.
Branch had purchased it last year, shortly before he had joined the Continental Army and left to work as a spy. His one and only living relative, Sarah, and her husband, Nate, had also been saving their money to purchase a place. Branch had struck a deal with them that gave them part of the acres in trade for their residence on the farm and working the land until the war was over and he was free to return home.
Nate had been harder to convince than Sarah about the arrangement being beneficial to them all, but he had finally relented. Partly because they had been forced from their homein Boston and had been living with Nate’s two younger brothers in a small village that had seemed under constant threat when the British Army had occupied the city. And partly because Nate had finally agreed his help on the farm would allow Branch to be gone without concerns of the land and house falling to ruins.
When Sarah had mentioned this morning they had been invited to supper at the home of John and Katherine Danvers, Branch had no idea that he had encounter Lucy and Theo.
Every time he had to leave Philadelphia, he felt as though a part of himself lingered behind because, despite his intentions otherwise, he had somehow done the unthinkable and fallen in love with Lucy.
She was everything he could have ever dreamed of finding in a woman, had he been looking for a wife, which he most certainly hadn’t been. The irony of him finding such a remarkable woman when he wasn’t seeking one wasn’t lost on him.
Regardless of his intentions, he couldn’t deny the reasons Lucy had captured his heart. She was smart. Clever and witty. Kind and caring. She could laugh and tease, or be serious and studious when the occasion called for it. She was also incredibly brave, despite her obvious thoughts to the contrary. Last week, when he had seen two Redcoat ruffians who paraded around as supposed Loyalists watching her, he had feared for her. He was fairly certain they had no idea she had been spying for the Continental Army in her father’s shop, but he assumed their interest in her was the undeniable fact that she was a beautiful young girl and it was quite enchanting to watch her work through the shop’s front window.
Branch had been guilty of doing the same thing any number of times, although recently he had no need to hide in the shadows and watch when he was welcomed into the shop by all the members of the Carlson family.
Of course, Lucy had still acted as though his very presence was a cross she had to bear, but he could tell by the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes she was always pleased to see him.
Regrettably, it had been important for her to think he was a Loyalist to maintain his ruse in the city. However, the more time he spent with her, the more his certainty grew that she would keep the truth to herself.
Branch didn’t know it for a fact, but thought it quite likely that Theo, who was far too smart for his own good, had already figured out he was a Patriot spying on the Redcoats by pretending to be a Loyalist.
Some days, playing a role was exhausting. Of late, when the burdens pressed hard upon him, he often found his feet carrying him to a certain goldsmith’s shop, where a fetching young miss with curly brown hair and eyes like a midnight sky never failed to lighten his heart.
Branch knew he was older than she was, but Lucy seemed wise beyond her years. In truth, he felt a companionship to her that was almost familiar, like he had felt it before, which was utter nonsense because he had only met her for the first time mere weeks ago.
Nonetheless, something about Lucy had wrapped around his heart and refused to let go. He felt things for her—wanted things with her—that he had never experienced. Like settling down. Having children. Raising a family in the United States of America, where anything was possible with a little hope and determination.
Or so Branch liked to tell himself.
A foot connected with his shin beneath the table, and Branch opened his eyes to find he was the only one with his head still bowed.
Sarah glared at him from her seat across the table, clearly questioning if he had lost his manners somewhere between there and Philadelphia.
“This meal looks wonderful,” Branch said, smiling as he settled his napkin on his lap and looked around the table full of a variety of foods. Although it was a cold supper, intended to be merely a little something to tide them over until morning, there was enough to feed half a dozen starving men.
Branch helped himself to sliced beef and cheese, and a serving of the slaw made of shredded cabbage, of which he was not fond, but didn’t want to appear rude.
Sarah had brought bread made from rye, cornmeal, and molasses, that was steamed instead of baked. It was something they had often enjoyed in Boston, and she had mentioned making it for the meal this evening.
