Chapter Three

Lily stormed from her uncle’s library with her fingers in a clenched ball. The news David wished to marry her could not have come at a worse time. More so, she doubted he would support a trip to New York. Yet go to Papa she must. Marriage could wait. Papa couldn’t.

In the parlor, a quartet played a Haydn piece. Attracted to the lovely music, she swept across the marbled foyer and entered the party. A dozen early arrivals, elegantly clad aristocrats, pomaded and bewigged, milled about buffet tables covered with ivory linen. Extravagant silver centerpieces overflowed with flowers and greens, and stood among platters of sliced tenderloin, roasted grouse, partridges and delicate artichoke hearts. Too preoccupied to care, she paid the savory puddings and pastries little mind.

It would be cruel to accept a marriage proposal when her future was so uncertain. For the first time ever, she was pleased not to see David among the guests. If he held true to form, he wouldn’t arrive until much later, at which point she’d be nursing a feigned headache in her bedchamber.

Twisting a dress bow with tense fingers, she floated among her uncle’s guests, past the potted palms and cherrywood chairs set against a wall papered with a pastoral scene. She made a concerted effort to smile. Beneath the mask, she stewed and planned. When the idea struck, she came to an abrupt stop.

Yes. That’s it!

She would sneak away to New York on the first available ship. It was the only way, and Percy wouldn’t discover her absence until it was too late and she was long gone. Giddy, she charged around the perimeter of the pale green room again, past the tall windows dressed with silvery blue drapes. Deep in concentration and lost in the details, she plowed into a solid wall of muscle. Crying out, she bounced backward. Her heart leapt into her throat when she recognized the barrier. “Oh, forgive me, Mr. Faraday.”

With embellished surprise, he flattened a palm to his chest and pretended their collision knocked the wind from his lungs. “Must be very important.” His mellow voice thrummed agreeably in her ears. “You were miles away.”

New York, to be exact. “Yes, yes, I was,” she admitted, embarrassed he touched upon her private thoughts.

She found herself drawn to his sensitive mouth and the contours of his strong-boned face. A queue at the nape of his neck tamed any curls in his dark, glossy hair. Without doubt, he was a tasty treat to behold. He far surpassed any delicacy ever created in Uncle Percy’s vast kitchen.

In return, shrewd, bluish-green eyes studied her with a hint of amusement. It caused a stinging blush across her neck she hoped he didn’t notice.

“I trust your business with my uncle went well.” His association with the nasty man intrigued her immensely. She couldn’t help but stare at him, expecting to see something despicable, a hint of a tainted character. Try as she might, she found no fault in his pleasing countenance. When he smiled, as he did just then, radiant like the sun on a cold winter’s morn, she warmed instantly.

“A bit of trade and news from the Colonies,” he replied in answer to her question. The gold silk buttons against his dark blue topcoat brought to mind stars in a midnight sky. “My only regret,” he said, interrupting her perusal, “is that I ended your discussion with your uncle.”

“Oh, that.” She swallowed her disappointment, determined to see a positive outcome to her dilemma. “My matter will be completed, one way or another.” She would get to Papa somehow.

On a wave of optimism, she asked, “Tell me you weren’t harmed in your tussle with Lord Warwick this morning. David can be so argumentative at times.”

“A hothead, indeed.”

A servant with a tray of refreshments approached. He helped himself to champagne and stepped closer, bringing with him the scent of something pleasant and a little exotic, like nutmeg. “Would you care for one?”

She shook her head and watched, perhaps too closely for polite behavior, as he sipped the bubbly liquid.

“Miss Fitzhugh, are you familiar with a New Yorker named Henry Fitzhugh, a scholar and inventor of some renown?”

All at once, something awakened and fluttered, like tiny wings in her chest. “He’s my father.”

“That answers a few questions.”

“Questions?”

“About an imp who sniggered when I erred in my math calculations?”

She tipped her head in confusion.

“You once boasted you would travel to Egypt.” His mouth lifted at a corner. “You planned to explore the pyramids, on a camel, no less.”

The sudden recollection exploded in her head, forceful as a sledgehammer. “Of course,” she cried with excitement. “You’re Griffin Faraday, one of the boys Papa used to tutor.”

“Yes, my brother, Elliot, and I.”

His expansive smile stirred an image of a lanky lad with shaggy hair who dawdled amid her Papa’s messy, book-filled study. “You’re so…” Handsome, she almost blurted and cleared her throat, trying to normalize her voice. “You’re different. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

“It’s been a long time.”

The memories came fast, inciting an unexpected joyfulness not experienced in ages. “You set Papa’s laboratory on fire.”

“An accident, I assure you.” He chuckled, seeming embarrassed.

“Fortunately, the flame was easily doused.” All of a sudden, her mood was as effervescent as the bubbly champagne in his fluted glass. “I remember you had a pet snake which escaped from its container.”

“Afraid so.” At the admission, he colored slightly, but he smiled with humor.

“The snake gave birth and baby snakes slithered all over Papa’s library.” For effect, she shuddered theatrically and when he laughed, she joined in.

“I worried your father would toss me out on my ear.”

“He almost did.”

She tried to reconcile the compelling face of this tall, elegant man to that of the boy’s once youthful blush and dreamy-eyed manner. How she loved to hear the tales of his favorite knights and heroic battles. “Imagine,” she mused and tapped her lip. “Griffin Faraday all grown up, and such a dandy, too.”

“Hardly.”

He glanced at a nearby table laden with Cornish hens and shrimp. By his swiftly hidden smile, she knew the comment pleased him.

A million questions danced in her head.

“Do you live in London? No, you couldn’t,” she answered. “I would have seen you and perhaps made your acquaintance.”

“New York. I come to London on business.”

Had he dropped a string of luxurious pearls in her hand, she couldn’t have been more thrilled. “You live in New York City?”

“I do.”

The hope of further good news quickened her pulse. “Have you, by chance, seen my father?” She held her breath.

“Regrettably, not in years.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders drooped. “Naturally, I had hoped.”

His handsome face gentled with concern. “How long since you last saw him?”

“Seven years. Since I came to England.”

“Ah.” He reached out a hand, as though he might comfort her with a touch. However, in the next moment, the hand was behind his back and rested low on his spine. “I’m sorry. It’s a hardship when families are separated.” The kind words plucked a soothing note in her worried mind. “Perhaps one day, one of you will make the tiresome voyage.”

“Mr. Faraday—”

“Call me Griffin. We’re old friends. No reason for formality.”

“If you prefer.” His openness encouraged her. “Since you travel frequently, you must be familiar with crossing schedules. Are you aware of any ships bound for New York soon?”

“The Phoenix is set to leave in a week.”

A shake of her head cast the notion aside. “Not soon enough.”

“The Providence sails tomorrow. I’ve booked passage on her.”

Her heart soared with possibilities. “You did?”

“Is there a message you wish me to give your father?”

Their gazes locked. Her foot tapped a nervous beat. “I want you to take me to New York.”

Not a hair or breath flickered. Her palms grew damp and her throat dry as she watched him. Then he blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Forgive me.” She clasped her hands, kneading her tense fingers. “I must go to my father as soon as possible. I fear something dreadful has happened.” She disliked babbling but his pointed stare unnerved her. “He’d have written otherwise. He might be ill. As his daughter, I should be there.” A pitiful image of a thin and sick Papa constricted her throat. “He might be dying.” Or dead. She grimaced and tried to banish her fear.

When he spoke, his voice held steady. “Perhaps it’s not so bad. Perhaps his letter went awry.”

“I don’t mean take me as your guest. Just help me book passage.” Surely, she could scrape together enough baubles to pay the fare. She touched his arm, aware of the firm muscles beneath the fine cloth of his coat.

“Miss Fitzhugh—”

“Lily,” she offered with a congenial smile. “Remember? Old friends.” Perhaps an acknowledgment of their friendship might tug at his conscience and activate his loyalty. “If it were your brother or father in trouble, you’d want to go home as soon as possible.”

Any likelihood charm or guilt might sway him dashed when he turned grim and humorless. His fingers drummed against his thigh. “Lily.”

To hear her name spoken with such exacting firmness chilled her with foreboding.

“I understand your dilemma, but I’m not in a position to act as your guardian.”

The curls fashioned on top of her head wobbled with a vigorous headshake. “I don’t need a guardian. I simply want your help to get on that ship.” The ill-mannered, desperate pleading should have embarrassed her, but she was too far gone to care. “Afterwards, you can go about your business. You can pretend not to know me.”

“That’s not possible.” Utter conviction firmed his words. It was the sort of solid comment a battering ram couldn’t penetrate. “I could no more ignore you than—” His eyes widened. His head snapped to the right as if he dared not look at her. He dragged a long-fingered hand over his bound hair, his handsome face gripped with distress. Several tense seconds later, his agitated spirit stilled. Whatever troubled him lay submerged behind a chilly, composed mask. “Not on the Providence. It’s not the sort of ship to carry passengers.”

“But you’re a passenger.”

“It’s different.” Straightening his shoulders, he appeared to grow taller and broader, and became a solid, impassable wall between her and Papa.

“I don’t see how.”

“The captain won’t allow female passengers. He thinks a woman is bad luck.”

She almost laughed. “How ridiculous.”

“Be that as it may…” He tapped his chin, thinking and drawing attention to the thumbprint indentation in his strong jaw. “Besides, given the hostilities between England and the Colonies, it’s a dangerous time to travel.”

“Yet you travel by sea.” Aware of the obstinate firmness in his face, she doubted the statement gained her any advantage. It was her life, so why should he care? She squeezed his forearm. “Please. It isn’t so much to ask. With parents and siblings of your own, you can understand the familial bond. You can appreciate my great need to go to him.”

His lips pressed tighter.

She waited and prayed. Each second stretched and slowed into the next.

“I can’t help you.” The absolute finality of his words clanged in her head—words no one ever wanted to hear. He raised a finger. “However, I promise to see your father. As soon as I reach New York, I’ll go to him.”

Visit Papa in a prison? “It isn’t good enough.”

His earnest expression caved in misery. She felt guilty for pressuring him, but what else could she do?

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

“You mean you won’t.” The unfairness of it clawed at her insides. The fates had made a terrible mistake. Tonight, she’d been gifted an old friend, a cherished treasure, only to lose him moments later. Disappointing enough, any hope she might bond with her father and recreate a family lost long ago disappeared in a flash. Head held high, she gave him one final appraisal and a chance to change his mind.

He said nothing.

Anger seared her lungs. The letdown tasted bitter. Yet one thing remained firm. She would find another way.

“Do look in on my father, won’t you?”

****

Griffin swore under his breath, frustrated and miserable as he watched her cross the room. One black ringlet dropped from the coil on her head and bounced against her stiff back. The deep wine color of her gown glowed like blood against her ivory skin.

She must think him a selfish coward. His gut tightened with rancor. Under normal circumstances, he would have reveled in the chance to offer his help. Yet these were not normal times and his activities were less than customary.

What right did he have to promise her safe passage when, at any moment, he might be arrested and charged with crimes against the King? His activities for the colonial army must remain secret. If all went according to plan, the Providence would take on a cargo of stolen British guns. The weapons had the capacity for more accuracy than any musket available and would aid the outcome of the war. To bring an innocent civilian into the fray would be unconscionable and foolhardy. His first loyalty must be the completion of his mission. Under no circumstances would Lily Fitzhugh become a deterrent.

The idea of being with her aboard ship for weeks, with her laughter and honeyed voice and her fierce temperament aglow with challenge and raising his fires—well, it would be impossible. He flushed. War was no time for romantic fantasies or the sweet allure of reviving an old friendship, even if the girl was a beautiful woman.

Annoyed, and with no further need to mingle, he headed out the door. When he reached New York, he would go to her father. It was the best he could do.