“We aren’t ready to place blame or make accusations.” Thomas stepped forward. “However, we are certain the perpetrator is a Tory.”
“Thomas is right. We have plenty of those loathsome fellows in town to pin our suspicions on.” Nathaniel sighed, succumbing to the glowering mood that stole every thread of his earlier levity. “In earnest, I shall echo your earlier proclamation, my friend, and state that in my mind the acquaintance of not only Cyprian Wythe, but any lover of King George is a grave displeasure.”
Thomas raised his glass. “Hear, hear, my friend.”
“Then I am surprised that you are able to abide my presence.”
Kitty’s stiff response blasted a hole through Nathaniel’s middle and the resulting silence choked the merriment from their little circle like thick black smoke. He looked up only to be censured from the shock that drained the light from her eyes. Her lips pressed tight, turning them colorless.
The blood drained from his face. Idiot!
He couldn’t bring himself to look away from her wounded expression, aching for words that would soothe the pain he’d inflicted. The pleasant tune from the quartet and the quiet hum of voices continued around them, each guest blissfully unaware of his thoughtless remark.
Thomas reached out to her, his brow pinching. “Kitty, you must know our comments are no reflection on you.”
“Are they not?” She handed her glass to Eliza. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall take my leave so as not to injure you with my presence any longer.” Kitty brushed between them before facing them one last time. “Forgive me, Eliza.” She darted from the room, holding her skirts as she wove through the tangle of party-goers toward the exit.
The hollow chill her absence created smacked Nathaniel on the back of the head like an irritated father. He exchanged a narrow glance with Thomas before slamming his eyes shut. How could he be so foolish? How could he have allowed himself to say something so hurtful to someone so gracious? The temperature of the room went hot, then instantly cold. So much for your famous charm, Nathaniel. You’ve proven your lack of it with amazing skill.
“I’m ashamed of you, Thomas.” Eliza’s quiet tone slashed against Nathaniel’s ruptured conscience. Though her expression revealed only a fraction of the emotion that bubbled beneath, it was enough to pry apart the already gaping crater in his shame. “You as well, Nathaniel. You both know how desperately she yearns for harmony in these political matters. She is strong, yet she is tender—and you both should know better than to say such derogatory things with her present.” She looked toward the doorway where Kitty had exited. “Now that she will be staying with us you will have to find a way to temper your statements.”
“Staying?” Nathaniel turned his head. “You mean this isn’t a visit?”
Thomas ran his tongue over his teeth as if trying to recover from the wounds he continued to receive from his wife’s chastising glare. “Nay, she... she has moved back from Boston. Permanently.” He pushed out a heavy breath. “Please forgive me, Eliza. It was very wrong of me.”
“Aye, it was very wrong. But ‘tis not I to whom you should be apologizing.” The wrinkle in Eliza’s brow softened and she eased her fingers between her husband’s. “I’m not asking you to stop speaking of politics in her presence, rather keep your position on Tories away from her ears.”
Thomas gazed at his wife, humility and adoration in his eyes as he kissed her forehead. “I’ll go speak with her.”
He turned to go, but Nathaniel grabbed his arm. “Let me. ‘Twas I who started the conversation.”
Thomas glanced at Eliza and quirked his brow. “Do you mind?”
She shrugged. “This is between the two of you.”
Without waiting, Nathaniel started toward the hall, smiling over his shoulder as confidence lightened his step. “I’ll bring her back, and have her smiling the rest of the evening. Mark my word.”
Chapter Three
Kitty peered up at the dark ceiling just outside the ballroom and blinked, trying to make the tears seep back into her eyes.
She should never have come back to Sandwich. With her unpopular political beliefs, her presence would only cause greater disharmony as the months went on. But what to do? There was nowhere else to go.
The continual humming of voices from the ballroom grew quiet as she walked down the dimly lit hall toward what must be the library. A stream of light filtered through the doorway and she drew near to it as a butterfly draws near to a sun-kissed bloom. ‘Twas what she needed—a quiet place where she could compose herself before having to return to the room where she was as wanted as a burnt piecrust.
Almost at the door, the whisper of hushed voices trickled into the hall and she stopped.
“You idiot. You should have left the boy alone.”
“It wasn’t my fault!”
“We need to try again tonight.”
“Tonight? Are you mad—”
“We have a job to do and we will do it.”
The two men emerged from the room and jerked to a halt before her, their glares boring holes into Kitty’s skull.