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"Then I'm going with you."
He bent and pressed his lips against her forehead.
"Looks like love to me," Stephen commented. "Should I leave?"
"No, don't be dumb," Laurel answered, stepping away from Seth. "When do we leave, Seth?"
"Today or tomorrow, at the very latest. Ill have to figure out a way for us to leave the city without
arousing suspicion."
"Quakers," Stephen said.
"What?"
"Leave dressed as Quakers," Stephen suggested. "Everyone knows that the Quakers won't take sides.
It's perfect."
"It's a damned good idea," Seth agreed. "I'm surprised at you, Stephen. You're more devious than I
would have wagered."
"Who, me? I'm just "
"Yes, yes, an innocent innkeeper. Save your story for the British."
"The next time I speak to the British I won't give them a story," Stephen said, his face darkening. "I'll give
them a bullet in their arrogant heads, damn them all to hell."
Laurel turned to look at Stephen, surprised by the bitter hatred in his voice. When she met him he had
seemed so lighthearted and careless, almost as if the war and espionage were a fine joke, a merry
adventure.
"Will you be joining Washington's troops as well, Stephen," Seth asked, "or heading back to Haverton?"
Stephen drained the coffee from his mug and regarded it for a moment before answering. "Actually,
Goodwin, that's one of the reasons I'm here. Do you still own a British uniform?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I'll need it," Stephen answered in determined tones. "My brother was taken prisoner yesterday, and they
intend to try him as a traitor and a spy. I intend to bring him out before they can hang him."
Laurel thought of Gordon, and how kind he had been to her and Prudence at the inn. "Oh, Stephen& "
"You're mad," Seth said bluntly.
"The hell I am," Laurel replied with indignation. "I thought we'd cleared that up."
"Not you, sweetheart: Stephen. You can't possibly infiltrate the British camps. You haven't the
experience; you haven't the skill. You'll be hanged yourself."
"Damn, Goodwin! Do you expect me to leave my brother to die without even trying to help?"
Seth set down his mug with a sharp bang. "No, you idiot. I expect you to stay here and let me do it. I've
spent the last year in British uniform without being caught; I expect I can manage it one last time."
Laurel shivered, despite the warmth of the kitchen, and reached out for his hand. "Seth, are you sure? I'd
die if you were captured."
"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't sure. Besides which, Stephen could never get away with wearing my uniform.
I'm a full head taller than he."
"Not quite a full head," Stephen objected. I'm taller than I look."
Seth gave him a doubtful look.
"I am."
"Be that as it may or may not, I won't allow it. It would be suicidal for you to try. Do you know where
Gordon's being held?"
"Right here in the city. I stood in the crowd and watched the prisoners being marched in. He doesn't look
well, Goodwin. I think the bastards beat him."
"But he's able to walk?"
"Aye, he was."
Seth nodded. "Then I'll bring him out, my friend. And well leave the city together,immediately after. The
British will be too concerned with the taking of the city to try anyone for a couple of days, so hell be safe
enough till nightfall."
Laurel tried not to think of Seth failing, of his being recognized, tried, and hanged. Her hand tightened
over his. "Oh, Seth, be careful."
He turned and gave her a careless smile, the small lines around his dark eyes crinkling. "Don't worry,
sweetheart. It's not the most dangerous thing I've ever done."
"Oh, really? What was?"
He lifted his brows, as if straining to remember. "Ah& that would have been& let me see& Was it
copying General Burgoyne's paper while he slept five feet away? No. Maybe carrying a message through
to Washington at McConkey's Ferry? No, that isn't the worst. I think the most terrifying thing I've done
was agreeing to escort you to Philadelphia. I honestly didn't think I'd survive the experience."
Laurel rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're funny."
Seth gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I've never been more serious in my life."
"Women are dangerous things," Stephen agreed. "I'd rather face the entire British Navy than one angry
woman. Particularly a pretty one," he added, giving Laurel a teasing smile.
Seth stretched and shook his hair back from his eyes. "Very well; now that that's settled, we have things
to do. Stephen, you head into town and find out exactly where the prisoners are being held and who's in
charge, and anything else you can. It won't do for me to be seen on the street today. Laurel, I mean
Hope, can you find your way back to Mistress Kimball's?"
"I think so. It wasn't that far."
"Good. Don't speak to her in front of anyone; tell her that it concerns a delicate matter. Use those words
exactly. A delicate matter. Do you understand?"
"No, but I'll say it anyway."
"See that you do. And tell her that we need clothing suitable for a Quaker couple that will be leaving the
city tonight. Mind that nobody overhears you."
Laurel nodded. "Anything else, boss?"
Seth thought. "No. That should be enough. Oh, you may want to speak to your sister. Don't tell her
anything, of course. Just that you're leaving the city, and that it may be a long time before you see her
again."
A chill raced down Laurel's spine, a superstitious tingle that made her shiver. "Got it."
"As for me," Seth added, "I'm heading into my shop for the rest of the day. I intend to finish that
secretary. There's nothing that annoys me so much as leaving an unfinished piece, and God knows when
we'll return."
If we return, Laurel thought, but didn't say aloud. As she went upstairs to put her hair up and find a
proper cap, she couldn't shake the eerie feeling that this was her last night in Philadelphia.
Don't worry about it, she told herself sternly. Even if you're right, there's not a thing you can do
about it, except handle it.
And before she finished the thought she heard her Grandma's voice in the empty room, as clearly as if she
was standing there.
"Bingo," Grandma said.
Stephen accompanied Laurel to Mistress Kimball's shop, carrying a basket and walking a few steps
behind her, as if he was a servant. "No need to call attention to myself," he observed. "Nobody looks
twice at a servant."
Laurel saw the point in that and was glad of the company. The streets of Philadelphia seemed different
today; red-coated soldiers were everywhere, laughing among themselves with the confidence gained of
an easy victory.
Everywhere she looked, brass buttons were shining against scarlet uniforms, black boots were banging
against the cobblestone streets, sabers rattled from hips. Perhaps it was her brief encounter in the forest
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