Camp Follower: A Mystery of the American Revolution by Suzanne Adair Page B

no more of that business of
dissecting frogs."
    ***
    The breeze
wafted in through the window, stroking Helen's face, but she ignored it.   When I was a boy .
    Lord
Ratchingham's stepson was Dunstan Fairfax.   She shuddered, repulsed.   It was
all wrong.   The eyes of a seven-year-old
boy shouldn't harbor such malice.   Even
street urchins — impoverished, hungry, cold — didn't possess that level of
loathing.   Why was Fairfax that way?
    Jonathan might
remember more.   A peculiar emptiness
panged her soul.   Back in April, he'd
mentioned an upcoming trip to England.   She missed their spirited academic and philosophical conversations.   She missed him .   She should have contacted him after David's
visit in May.
    David.   She hung her head.   By then, she'd have to be a fool to believe she'd ever see him
again.   She told herself that she must
let him go, but her heart tangled resolve.   Grief, guilt, and confusion moistened her eyes.   Why had she always been so stubborn over
David?   Why had her heart skirted love
with him instead of embracing it?
    A hot tear
tracked down her cheek.   She sagged
against the windowsill in relief when another tear followed.   Thank all the gods she could weep after all.
    "You're
up!   Ah, that's good to see."   Candle in hand, Enid pushed the door open
further and entered.   "How do you
feel?"
    Blast.   Enid's timing couldn't have been worse.   Helen thrust back her tears.   Under no circumstances must she let Enid
know that David wouldn't return.   Enid
adored him every bit as much as she adored Jonathan.   "I'm much better."   A smile trembled on her lips.   She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.   "I hope the Committee apprehended that rogue, Arthur
Sims."
    "Not yet,
mistress."   Lips tightened over a
reprove, Enid set the candle down on the nightstand.   "Those deputies have a bit to learn about catching
criminals.   By the bye, Mr. Badley has
the revised contract available and requests that you sign it.   And the mantua-makers and shoemaker request
a visit."
    Even by
candlelight, Helen read judiciousness flitting about Enid's eyes.   Where had her mistress come by the money to
purchase a wardrobe?   She must explain the assignment to her that night, but not on an empty stomach.   "I've worked up quite an
appetite."
    "Supper
awaits you downstairs as soon as you've dressed."
    "Dressed?"   She eyed Enid.   "I don't plan to leave home tonight, and I don't expect
visitors."
    The servant
gnawed her lower lip.   "He said the
two of you had a conversation to finish and that he'd arrive at
eight-thirty.   Forty-five minutes from
now, that is."
    Fairfax.   He expected her to reveal David's
destination in exchange for rescuing her from the Committee.   Helen expelled a deep breath.   Sleep had helped her recover clarity.   Time to put the handsome, macabre Lieutenant
Fairfax in his place, or he'd dance her like a poppet before she completed her
obligation with the Legion.
    "We'd
finished that conversation.   Obviously I
need to remind him.   Fetch water for the
washbasin, and help me dress."
    Chapter Twelve
    THE SILVER AND
china had been sold years before, but Enid rounded up serving dishes to
accommodate the feast that awaited Helen in the dining room.   Speechless, she studied the label of another
bottle of exquisite Italian wine by candlelight.   Her initial reaction, to donate the meal to the destitute, was
tempered by Enid's famished but patient expression.   She anticipated a full belly.   Helen would have to absorb the expense, cover it with more money from
Badley's advance.
    At
eight-thirty, Fairfax and his men returned.   Enid admitted the lieutenant to the foyer, where Helen waited.   Then she retreated to the dining room to
clear the table.
    Helen curtsied,
and Fairfax bowed, his gaze slithering the length of her.   "Madam, repose has done you well."
    "Thank
you.   The meal was a considerate
gesture.   Enid has been too