servant with her sunburned face and dirty apron.
“As I was traveling from Charles Town, I happened across this admirable young lady in need of an escort.” The captain bowed his head at the woman on his arm. “She assured us you would be most hospitable.”
Jane glanced at Caroline with a worried look. “Yes, of course.”
“Mrs. Thomas, so good to see you again.” The woman stepped forward, closing her parasol. “Surely you remember me? I’m Agatha Ludlow.”
C HAPTER N INE
C aroline flinched.
This was it. The unmasking.
Jane would demand that she and her family leave at once. Good Lord, Jane could have the soldiers arrest them. Caroline risked a glance to see how angry Jane was, but she had turned away to climb the steps to the front porch.
“Welcome to Loblolly.” Jane hesitated at the front door as if reluctant to open it.
“Thank you.” Agatha Ludlow swished past Caroline without a second glance. “Captain, would your men fetch my trunks, please?”
“Of course.” Hickman motioned to the other soldiers. They paced back to the river, grumbling under their breath.
Agatha lifted her skirts with a gloved hand as she ascended the porch steps. “I simply adore this house.”
Instead of joining the ladies on the porch, the captain stepped back and examined the house. He glanced over his shoulder at the river. “Mrs. Thomas, is your husband home?”
Jane visibly paled. “No, he’s . . . away on business.”
Captain Hickman tucked his tricorne under his arm. “Then you are alone.”
“I have guests staying with me.” Jane glanced at Caroline.
Although Jane’s expression conveyed more of a plea for support than an angry accusation, Caroline still struggled with the guilt of her deception. She remained standing on the lawn, uncertain what to do but convinced that at any moment, the earth would crack open, flames would belch forth, and the devil himself would appear with a personal invitation for her to join him in the bowels of hell.
Captain Hickman turned to her and smiled. A cold, lifeless smile that chilled her to the bone, a smile like a wolf baring its teeth when it had selected which sheep to cut from the herd. Caroline steeled her nerves to keep from shuddering. A fleeting thought skittered through her mind—perhaps the devil preferred ice to fire.
The captain inclined his head. “At your service, mistress. May I inquire your name?”
“Miss Munro. Caroline Munro.” She gave Jane an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. We’ll be on our way now.”
Jane frowned. “Do you truly wish to leave?”
Where could they go? Tears of despair blurred Caroline’s vision. She shook her head. “No.”
“Then you will stay.” Jane opened the door.
Agatha Ludlow followed her into the house. “I was so delighted to receive your invitation. I have such fond memories of this house. Do you still have that marvelous harpsichord in the parlor?”
Caroline trudged up the porch steps, her heart heavy. She should feel relieved. The truth was out, and she and her family still had shelter. But she felt guilty for not confessing the truth to Jane before it was too late.
Captain Hickman touched her elbow with his bony fingers. “You look sad. I trust it is not due to our arrival.”
“No, not at all.” Caroline forced a smile.
“Then you will be pleased to do your duty for your king.” Hickman tightened his grip on her elbow. His gaze wandered down to her low neckline, then back to her face. “I expect to be made . . . comfortable.”
She swallowed hard. Rumors had abounded in Charles Town of soldiers abusing their power with helpless women. “This way, please.” She eased away from his grasp with the pretense of leading him into the foyer.
The captain’s booted steps echoed on the polished floor. How could his blue gaze seem so cold when Haversham’s blue eyes had twinkled with warmth?
“Such a horrendous journey.” With languid, graceful motions, Agatha Ludlow loosened
“As I was traveling from Charles Town, I happened across this admirable young lady in need of an escort.” The captain bowed his head at the woman on his arm. “She assured us you would be most hospitable.”
Jane glanced at Caroline with a worried look. “Yes, of course.”
“Mrs. Thomas, so good to see you again.” The woman stepped forward, closing her parasol. “Surely you remember me? I’m Agatha Ludlow.”
C HAPTER N INE
C aroline flinched.
This was it. The unmasking.
Jane would demand that she and her family leave at once. Good Lord, Jane could have the soldiers arrest them. Caroline risked a glance to see how angry Jane was, but she had turned away to climb the steps to the front porch.
“Welcome to Loblolly.” Jane hesitated at the front door as if reluctant to open it.
“Thank you.” Agatha Ludlow swished past Caroline without a second glance. “Captain, would your men fetch my trunks, please?”
“Of course.” Hickman motioned to the other soldiers. They paced back to the river, grumbling under their breath.
Agatha lifted her skirts with a gloved hand as she ascended the porch steps. “I simply adore this house.”
Instead of joining the ladies on the porch, the captain stepped back and examined the house. He glanced over his shoulder at the river. “Mrs. Thomas, is your husband home?”
Jane visibly paled. “No, he’s . . . away on business.”
Captain Hickman tucked his tricorne under his arm. “Then you are alone.”
“I have guests staying with me.” Jane glanced at Caroline.
Although Jane’s expression conveyed more of a plea for support than an angry accusation, Caroline still struggled with the guilt of her deception. She remained standing on the lawn, uncertain what to do but convinced that at any moment, the earth would crack open, flames would belch forth, and the devil himself would appear with a personal invitation for her to join him in the bowels of hell.
Captain Hickman turned to her and smiled. A cold, lifeless smile that chilled her to the bone, a smile like a wolf baring its teeth when it had selected which sheep to cut from the herd. Caroline steeled her nerves to keep from shuddering. A fleeting thought skittered through her mind—perhaps the devil preferred ice to fire.
The captain inclined his head. “At your service, mistress. May I inquire your name?”
“Miss Munro. Caroline Munro.” She gave Jane an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. We’ll be on our way now.”
Jane frowned. “Do you truly wish to leave?”
Where could they go? Tears of despair blurred Caroline’s vision. She shook her head. “No.”
“Then you will stay.” Jane opened the door.
Agatha Ludlow followed her into the house. “I was so delighted to receive your invitation. I have such fond memories of this house. Do you still have that marvelous harpsichord in the parlor?”
Caroline trudged up the porch steps, her heart heavy. She should feel relieved. The truth was out, and she and her family still had shelter. But she felt guilty for not confessing the truth to Jane before it was too late.
Captain Hickman touched her elbow with his bony fingers. “You look sad. I trust it is not due to our arrival.”
“No, not at all.” Caroline forced a smile.
“Then you will be pleased to do your duty for your king.” Hickman tightened his grip on her elbow. His gaze wandered down to her low neckline, then back to her face. “I expect to be made . . . comfortable.”
She swallowed hard. Rumors had abounded in Charles Town of soldiers abusing their power with helpless women. “This way, please.” She eased away from his grasp with the pretense of leading him into the foyer.
The captain’s booted steps echoed on the polished floor. How could his blue gaze seem so cold when Haversham’s blue eyes had twinkled with warmth?
“Such a horrendous journey.” With languid, graceful motions, Agatha Ludlow loosened
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