Less Than a Gentleman (17 page)

C
H
APTER
N
INETEEN

J
acob stopped and waited for Matthias to catch up. “What do you have there?”

“Cake and rum,” Matthias muttered.

“Ah. Dottie thinks we need to be drunk to survive the night?” Jacob climbed the steps to his house.

Matthias was familiar with the whitewashed exterior of the house. He’d seen it before when visiting the mill, but he’d never been inside. A part of him was curious—this was the location of his father’s other life. Another part felt guilty. His mother would cringe if she knew he was here.

The interior was surprisingly normal, as if a real family had lived there, although he supposed Jacob had been living alone after the death of his mother.

Matthias deposited the jug and cake on a pinewood table. “Have the redcoats been here?”

“They came to the front door, looked inside, then left. Apparently, they don’t think a slave has anything worth stealing.” Still holding the lantern, Jacob opened a door on the right. “I’ll show you the workroom.”

Inside, Matthias scanned the crowded room. Tables lined the walls, covered with metal, wire, glass, and tools. A narrow bed, squeezed between two tables, jutted out into the center of the room. It was the two stools, sitting side by side, that caught Matt’s attention. Jacob and Father must have worked on projects together.

Jacob shoved some tools aside to set the lantern down. “I know it appears a mess.” He grabbed a few books off the bed and set them underneath. “But the sheets are clean.”

Matthias eyed the books. “How did you learn to read?”

“Father taught me. And he let me borrow books from his library.”

Matthias gritted his teeth. Father had hired a tutor for him and then sent him to college. He recalled his father’s parting words
—I have done my duty. See that you do yours.

Father had done his duty, marrying the heiress Jane Murray and having a son. But this—Matthias looked about the workroom—this was where Father had lived.

He cleared his throat. “Where is the telescope?”

“Here.” Jacob passed him a short metal object.

It looked like a normal telescope except that the wider end curved into a ninety-degree angle. Matthias tugged on the smaller end, and the telescope lengthened in three stages of decreasing circumference. He strode to the open doorway and peered through the lens. Not only could he see around the corner, but objects were magnified.

“This is excellent.” He snapped the telescope back into its shorter size. “Do you mind if I borrow it?”

“No. Help yourself to anything here that looks like it might be useful.” Jacob selected another item. “This lantern is equipped with shutters on all four sides. Each side can be opened or shut.”

“That sounds promising.” Matthias tried the lever on one of the shutters. “I like this. I can direct the light downward if I wish.”

“Yes. Of course if you leave all the shutters closed for too long, the flame inside will die out,” Jacob said. “If you need another machine, describe what you want to do, and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Why are you helping me? Are you a patriot like . . . my father?”

Jacob snorted. “I like to solve problems with machines. ’Tis not patriotism, merely intellectual curiosity.”

“You don’t care who wins the war?”

“Why should I?” Jacob walked toward the door. “Your freedom won’t mean a damned thing to the slaves, will it?”

“I understand your dislike of your condition, but—”

“
Dislike?
” Jacob thumped two pewter mugs on the table. “You don’t understand at all.”

“No, I don’t.” Matthias approached the table. “How can you care about my father when he’s the one who owns you?”

Jacob’s eyes glimmered with strong emotion. “I grew up loving him. But I was a young child and didn’t know I was a slave. Then afterward—I don’t know. Part of me misses him terribly. Another part wishes he’ll rot in prison.” He sighed. “Love and hate at the same time. You must think I’m strange.”

Matthias swallowed hard. “No, not really.” All these years he had thought he was alone in his feelings. He had craved his father’s attention, wanting more than anything for his father to be proud of him. At the same time, he had detested his father for betraying his mother. And he’d hated the way his father had mistreated the slaves.

He unwrapped the cake Dottie had given them. “I wonder if this is any good.”

“Let’s try it.” Jacob fetched a knife and two saucers. Then he pulled the cork from the jug and sloshed some rum into a mug.

“None for me.” Matthias sat at the table. “I need my wits about me tonight.”

“You plan to spy?” Jacob handed him a jug of cider.

“Yes.” Matthias filled his mug. “I should make it clear. I don’t want anyone in the Great House to know I’m here.”

Jacob cut two pieces of cake. “Not even your mother?”

“Especially her. Knowledge about me could be dangerous. The British have posted a reward for my capture.”

With a grimace, Jacob sat across from him. “I have to say it strikes me as ironic. A slave owner who is willing to die for freedom.”

“I don’t own you. My father does.”

“Our father.” Jacob reached for a piece of cake just as Matthias did.

Their eyes met briefly before they each grabbed a piece. They ate in silence.

C
aroline gripped the candlestick tighter and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It was time to spy.

She entered the secret passageway from the third floor and shut the door behind her. On her way downstairs, she noted with pride how clean the passageway was. She stopped in front of the library peephole and grasped the small knob in her hand.
Wait.
The light from her candle might be visible through the hole.

She blew it out and placed the candlestick holder on the floor. With the corridor pitch black, she skimmed her fingers up the door to the knob. Thanks to her earlier coating of grease, the peephole glided open without a sound. She peered inside.

Captain Hickman was seated at the desk, a glass of liquor in his thin hand. A candle on the desk illuminated the scene.

“You wished to see me?” Jane spoke from beyond Caroline’s view.

“Come in, Mrs. Thomas.” Hickman motioned to the settee across from the desk. “Please sit down.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose. How kind of the captain to offer Jane a seat in her own house. Jane wandered into view and perched on the edge of the settee.

Hickman sipped from his glass. “How long do you expect your husband to be away on business?”

Jane’s mouth tightened. “Quite some time, I’m afraid.”

“You are correct. Before my arrival here, I took the liberty of checking the records in Charles Town. It seems your husband is one of our prisoners.”

Jane clutched her hands together. “Was there a reason you wished to see me, Captain?”

“Yes, Mrs. Thomas. I believe, given the circumstances, that you and I should become friends.”

Remaining silent, Jane watched the redcoat with wary eyes.

Hickman rose to his feet. “Excellent brandy you have here.” He wandered out of Caroline’s view and returned with a decanter and empty glass. “Would you care for some?”

Jane hesitated before answering. “Yes. Thank you.”

He poured her a small portion. “I hear your husband is quite ill. Dysentery, don’t you know. Quite common amongst prisoners.” He offered her the glass.

She accepted it, using both hands to hold the glass steady.

The captain leaned on the edge of the desk. “I could arrange for your husband to receive medical attention, perhaps even be moved to more comfortable accommodations.”

“I would appreciate that.” Jane took a small sip.

“I was hoping you would. I was preparing to write the request when it occurred to me how helpful you could be.”

Jane paled. “In what way?”

“Information. There’s a criminal on the loose, wanted for treason and murder. I’m sure you would like to see justice done. Wouldn’t you, Mrs. Thomas?”

“Who is he?” Jane whispered.

Hickman grasped a stack of papers and thumbed through it. “I have the handbill here somewhere. Ah, here it is. The man’s name is— Well, isn’t this interesting?” He dangled the handbill in front of Jane’s face. “Matthias Murray Thomas.”

Jane gasped. Her hand shook, spilling brandy on her skirt. Caroline covered her mouth to keep from making a noise.

“A shame to spill such good brandy.” Hickman dropped the handbill on his desk. “Is it a good likeness?”

Jane set her glass down on a nearby table. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Come now, Mrs. Thomas. You must know something about the man. No doubt you are related.”

Jane remained silent, her hands clutched together.

Hickman glowered at her. “Your husband will probably die if I forget to send the request.”

“I understand.” Jane stood and strode toward the door.

“Don’t be a fool, Mrs. Thomas. I’m offering to help your husband. If you don’t help me, I will find the information elsewhere.”

“Then that is what you will have to do.” The door swung shut, signaling Jane’s departure.

Hickman sat with a huff, and Caroline glared at his back. No doubt he had enjoyed tormenting Jane.

Poor Jane. She could save her husband by turning in her only son? It was too cruel. Caroline was tempted to march into the library and clonk the captain on the head with her candlestick.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.” Hickman tucked the handbill about Matthias Murray Thomas under his stack of papers.

Booted footsteps approached the desk. It was the foot soldier named Pugsley. Edward called him Ugly Pugsley.

“All is secure for the night, sir,” Pugsley reported.

“Good. I’ll be retiring then.” Hickman stood, and with his glass of brandy in hand, he ambled from the room. The soldier followed and closed the door.

Caroline considered what to do next. Wherever Jane’s son was, he needed to know about the bounty on his head. Then he could take appropriate measures, perhaps leave the Carolinas all together.

The candle still burned on the desk, where Hickman had forgotten to blow it out. She could take a peek at the papers, even examine the handbill about Jane’s son.

She twisted the latch to open the door. To her surprise, an entire section of bookcase swung into the corridor.
Amazing.
No one would ever suspect this was a door.

She entered the library and pulled the door nearly shut. At the desk, she inspected the papers. On top was the half-written request to supply Jane’s husband with medical attention. Blast that Hickman.

The sound of booted footsteps echoed outside the library. Caroline gasped. She had to leave. Now.

She lunged back to the bookcase door.
Damn!
The door had shut completely! The weight of all the books must have pulled it shut. And she had no idea how to open it.

The footsteps stopped at the door.

She dove under the desk.

The door creaked open. Footsteps approached the desk.

“Ah, there you are,” Captain Hickman said. “So kind of you to join me.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

M
atthias slipped into the china room and closed the door. He set the lantern on the table and opened one of the shutters partway. The flame inside flickered and grew, casting a shimmering orange glow on his mother’s crystal glasses. A mop and pail in the corner caught his eye.

Betsy must have been cleaning in here.

He opened the door to the servants’ passageway and immediately noticed the spotless floor and clean walls. So this was where Betsy had done her cleaning. He’d have to thank her later. But why would she leave a candlestick on the floor by the library door? And the peephole was open.

He closed himself inside the passageway and set the shuttered lantern on the floor next to the candlestick. A faint light shimmered through the peephole.

A man’s voice sifted through the opening. “Ah, there you are. So kind of you to join me.”

He peered through the peephole and saw Captain Hickman standing by the desk, looking toward the library door.

A woman’s voice answered, “I was feeling a little restless and thought a walk in the garden would calm me.” Agatha Ludlow sauntered into Matthias’s view. “Perhaps you would join me for a moonlight stroll?”

“I’d be delighted, my dear,” Hickman replied.

But something else caught Matthias’s eye. He blinked. Surely that wasn’t . . . Yes, under the desk was a huddled form in white. His innards clenched. It had better not be Caroline! He’d wring her neck. If the British didn’t do it first.

Agatha allowed her shawl to slide down her arms, revealing an extremely low-cut gown. “I’m not interrupting your work, am I?”

“No, not at all.” The captain smiled as his gaze lowered. “I only returned to extinguish this candle I left burning.” He leaned over to blow out the candle.

Matthias squinted. Their figures were barely visible in the moonlight that filtered through the open curtains.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” Hickman asked.

Agatha answered with a throaty chuckle. “Not if I’m with a fearless warrior like you.”

Gah. It was enough to make him lose his supper. Matthias watched them walk away, the door creaking shut behind them.

This was the perfect time to try the corner telescope. The magnifying lens would help him identify the person under the desk before he or she made a quick exit out the library door.

As he lengthened the telescope, a movement drew his attention back to the peephole. The person crawled out from under the desk, then moved so quickly that all he could see was a white blur coming straight toward him.

He held his breath, waiting for the person to get close enough to identify. The faint smell of magnolia blossoms reached his nostrils.

Caroline
. Damn it to hell!

“Blast! Where is it?” she whispered as she rummaged along the bookshelf.

What was she looking for? He remembered the candlestick on the floor. And the open peephole. She was looking for the door latch!

He jammed the telescope down to its shortened length. “Bloody hell.”

She gasped on the other side of the door. He peered through the peephole just in time to see her eyes on the other side.

She squeaked and jumped back.

He wrenched open the bookcase door at the same time that she ran for the library door. Just past the desk, he caught up with her and grabbed her from behind.

She squirmed and kicked.

He cursed softly as her heels made contact with his shins. “Stop it, Caroline.”

“Haversham?”

“Yes.” Setting her on her feet, he loosened his grip so the telescope in his hand wouldn’t bite into her ribs.

“How dare you! You gave me a terrible fright.” She burst from his grasp, twisting to face him.

Her sudden movement wrenched the telescope from his hand. It hit the rug with a clunk.

“Wait!” He grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t move. It might have broken.”

“What?”

“Stand still. There could be broken glass.” He squatted before her and searched the floor.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“I dropped a tool I intended to use.” His hand brushed over a bare foot, then rested on her other foot.

“It is not sitting on my foot, Haversham.”

He circled her ankle with his fingers. The skin felt thin and delicate, like butterfly wings.

“And it is most definitely not wrapped around my ankle. If I were touching your tool, I’d be aware of the fact.”

With a smile, he slid his hand up to her calf.

“Stop that, Thomas. Your tool did not fall
up
my leg.”

He caressed the skin behind her knee. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” She jiggled her leg to dislodge him. “The law of gravity clearly states that all objects must fall in a downward direction.”

He dragged his fingers back down to her ankle. “You obviously haven’t heard of the natural law of attraction.”

“No. How does that one work?”

“It causes certain objects to defy gravity.”

She snorted. “How could anything go up?”

“Believe me, it is happening as I speak.”

Her toes tapped the floor as she considered his words. “Oh, I know what you mean. I’ve seen it before.”

His hand stilled. “You have?”

“Yes. I once saw a magnet attract a nail and move it upward. It was very interesting. But I can only imagine it happening with very small objects.”

He gritted his teeth. “It is
not
small.”

“Oh, it would have to be. Something too heavy could not possibly rise. The demonstration I saw was with a very small nail, more of a tack, actually.”

“Bloody hell.” He grabbed the telescope off the floor and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Did you find your tool? Where?”

“Between your legs, dammit.” He straightened and nabbed her by the arm. He was sorely tempted to prove he was much larger than a tack, but with his luck, the redcoats would catch him with his tool hanging out. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait.” She dug in her heels as they passed through the bookcase door. “Show me where the latch is. I need to know how to open this door.”

“No, you don’t.” He hauled her into the dark passageway and shoved the door shut. “Your spying days are over. Do you understand?”

“You cannot order me about, Thomas. I won’t have it.”

“I won’t have you risking your neck! I saw you, Caroline. You were under the desk with that damned captain hovering right over you.” Matthias knelt to find the lantern and lifted the shutters halfway up on one side.

“That’s an interesting lamp,” she observed.

He glanced at her. The light illuminated the bottom half of her thin shift, clearly delineating her legs. He swallowed hard. He was a great deal larger than a tack.

“Can you control the amount of light on each side?”

“Yes.” He straightened slowly. “Caroline. Listen to me. You must stop spying.”

“I told you, you cannot give me orders. Besides, these corridors give me the perfect opportunity—”

“How did you find the passageway?”

She folded her arms below her chest. Perhaps she felt the gesture was defiant, but all he could see was how her movement tucked in her shift beneath her breasts. They rested upon her forearms, round and full.

“I discovered it thanks to you. It was so dirty in here, you left a trail of dust directly from the third-floor entrance to my bedchamber.”

Damn
. He should have noticed that, but it had been dark. “Do the other would-be spies in your family know?”

“No, I told no one. And I cleaned up the evidence you left behind. Really, Thomas. You are not suited for this sort of work.”

“What?”

“It was so filthy in here, the dust could have made you sneeze. How would you remain hidden then?” She turned to the bookcase door and slid the peephole shut. “And this squeaked so badly, they would have heard you. I worked all afternoon mopping the floors and greasing things.”

“Thank you. You’ve been a great help, but your work is over now.”

“I am not the maid! And you’re missing my point.” She crossed her arms again in the gesture that made it so difficult for him to concentrate. “I am clearly the best choice for a spy.”

He dragged his gaze from her breasts. “Excuse me?”

“I’m much more suited for espionage than you.”

“Why? Because you’re more
tidy
?” He stepped toward her. “Do you understand the danger involved?”

“Of course. I almost died when the captain came in.”

“I almost died when I saw you.” Matthias planted his hands on the wall on each side of her, caging her between his arms. “I’ll tie you to a bedpost if I must.” He leaned closer. “In fact, that notion appeals to me greatly at the moment.”

“Don’t be silly.” She pressed her hands against his chest to keep him from coming closer. “Oh, I can feel your tool. May I see it?”

“Good God.” He dug his fingers into the wall.

She slipped her hand inside his coat.

He groaned at the sensation of her roaming fingers.

“Ah, I found it.” She tugged the telescope from his coat pocket. “How does it work?”

He lowered his hands and took a deep breath. “You look through the smaller end. I planned to use it to extend my range of vision through the peephole.”

“How clever.” She turned her back to him and opened the peephole door. “Oh, dear. You realize your tool is crooked?”

He winced. “It is designed to look around corners.”

“Oh, I see.” She placed the narrow end to one eye.

He touched one of her red ringlets and rubbed the silky hair between his thumb and forefinger. She didn’t seem to notice.

She sighed. “This instrument of yours is not functioning properly.”

“Believe me, I’m ready when you are.”

“The shaft is too short—”

“Bloody hell!” He wrenched the telescope from her hands. “You can lengthen the shaft.” He extended the telescope to its full length. “See?”

She gave him an injured look. “You needn’t yell at me just because I don’t know how to handle it.” She took the instrument from him and jammed it back into its shorter length. “I just yank on the end here?”

He ground his teeth. “I have had all I can bear.”

“Is something wrong?” She turned to face him as she repeatedly lengthened and shortened the telescope.

“Would you stop playing with my equipment?” He snatched it from her hands and snapped the peephole shut. “We have something serious to discuss.” He set the telescope on the floor next to the lantern.

“If this is about spying, I refuse to quit.
You
should be the one to quit. I told you that I have no wish to involve myself with a soldier. A spy would be even worse.”

He placed his hands on the wall once more. “You’re already involved with me.”

She shrugged. “All the more reason why you should stop.”

He moved closer to her. “Do you care about me then?”

She swallowed audibly. “Perhaps.”

“I think you do.” He leaned forward ’til his face brushed against her cheek. The sound of her breathing grew more rapid. “You’re so soft.”

“Dottie has been insisting that I try all her creams and lotions.”

“My compliments to the chef. You smell delicious.” He drew her earlobe into his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelled.

She trembled. “Perhaps we can spy together. Or take turns.”

“Hmm.” He nibbled a path along her jaw to her mouth.

Her breasts pressed against his chest with each breath. “Then you agree? We will share the corridor?”

He skimmed her lips with his own. “Let’s share everything.”

“Yes,” she murmured in response and wrapped her hands around his neck. Her warm body leaned into him.

He pressed her back against the wall and invaded her mouth. This time she welcomed him with her tongue. She followed his moves with such eagerness, he knew she would be no shy virgin in bed. Caroline. His sweet Caroline.

With his fingers, he traced the neckline of her nightgown to the drawstring, then gently pulled. The ribbon came undone. With a gentle tug on her neckline, the opening widened. His fingertips grazed along the upper curves of her breasts. He followed their path with his mouth.

She moaned and raked her hands into his hair.

He unbuttoned the top button of her nightgown. His heart pounded harder. His manhood grew harder. And the damn buttons became harder to open.

What was he doing? She deserved better than a cold, hard floor. Could he make her forget where she was? He kissed her hard on the mouth as he fumbled with the buttons.

Three more undone and his patience wore out. He pulled away from the kiss and peeled back her nightgown. He heard her gasp.

She was beautiful.

The dark pink nipples tightened as he watched. “Good God.”

Suddenly, as if she just remembered to breathe, she inhaled deeply and her breasts swelled. “Thomas, we shouldn’t.”

He cupped a breast with his hand. “Just a taste. Please.” He bent down and kissed the warm, white skin. So full and firm, and so delicious. He kissed her again, closer to the nipple. Her fingers dug into his scalp. As her breathing grew more erratic, she moved against his mouth.

“Thomas,” she whispered.

He took her nipple into his mouth. A tremor ran through her body that almost exploded in his own. Her body arched.

He heard a thump.

“Ow!” She let go of him.

He straightened. “Are you all right?”

She glanced at the wall. “I banged my head on the knob to the peephole.”

“I’m sorry.” He felt the back of her head. “I don’t feel a lump.”

“I’m all right. ’Twas naught but a small knob.”

He groaned. Not that again. “A small knob? A tiny twig, a wee button, a small
prick
?”

She eased away from him with a wary look. “Why are you angry all of a sudden? I’m the one with a sore head.”

And he was the one with aching balls. Night after night. Not to mention the swollen member she never felt. “Caroline—”

“The bump knocked some sense into me.” She pulled her nightgown close to cover her breasts. “We should stop this . . . behavior before it is too late.”