The Secrets Of Catie Hazard. Miranda Jarrett

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      “Oh, aye, no doubt of that,” he said. “Even though Anthony’s turned traitor, his face would still mark him as a Sparhawk.”

      He dropped into the chair beside the table, the skirts of his coat falling back so that Catie could see the pistols in his belt, silver-mounted and deadly elegant.

      Purposefully she looked away. No matter what the circumstances, she didn’t approve of guns in her house, but she didn’t wish to challenge Jon on it now. “He thinks we’re the ones who are the traitors, Jon.”

      Wearily Jon shook his head. His jaw was stubbled black, his eyes ringed from sleeplessness, and his clothes so rumpled that Catie doubted he’d been home to sleep since the British landed.

      “Anthony wouldn’t say that if he’d stayed here at home, where he could see how bad things have become. He’ll come round to our side. You’ll see. Once he learns how Father’s been driven away—”

      “He knows already.” Catie’s hands tightened into fists at her sides. “Though he pretended not to, and tried to trick me into saying more. Not a quarter hour past, he left for the general’s headquarters.”

      Jon swore, long and furiously. “To my father’s house, you mean.”

      Catie nodded. “The only loyalty your cousin has now is to that blessed red coat of his.”

      “Then they’ve poisoned him against his own people,” he said flatly. “There’s no other explanation. I cannot believe—”

      “Believe it, Jon, for it’s true,” said Catie vehemently. “Two minutes in your cousin’s company and you’d see for yourself. He’s not an American any longer. He’s one of them now, the worst kind of arrogant British officer, and he doesn’t care a fig for what happens to you or your parents.”

      Jon’s expression hardened, the lines carved deep on either side of his mouth. “Then we’ll have to treat him with the same high regard, won’t we?”

      He lowered his voice to a conspirator’s rough whisper. “As long as he’s under your roof, Catie, I want you to watch him. Listen to his conversations, note who comes to see him, charm him into trusting you. Then tell me whatever you learn.”

      Startled, Catie drew back, her hands clasped tightly together at her waist She hadn’t expected Jon to ask her to do that, and she didn’t want to, not at all. To charm Anthony Sparhawk no, she couldn’t do it.

      “I can’t, Jon,” she said, faltering. “I just—I can’t.”

      “Oh, aye, you can, Catie, and you will,” said Jon firmly. “You’ll have chances to be near him that none of the rest of us will. It’s not that much to ask. Think of all the men risking their very lives for the cause.”

      But if she did as he asked, her own life would be at stake, too. Already Anthony had nearly recognized her. The more time she spent in his company, the more likely it was that he’d be able to remember who she was. And once he did, her carefully ordered world would collapse like a wobbly house of playing cards.

      “You don’t know what you ask, Jon,” she said miserably, unable to explain. “I can’t—”

      “You will do it, lass,” said Jon, and the harsh edge in his voice warned Catie to obey. “Not just for the cause of freedom. You’ll do it for my father and my mother, as well. After all my family’s done for you, Catie Hazard, you will do this for us.”

      Her conscience twisting the fear around her heart, Catie stared down at the pistols at his waist. Such guns weren’t an affectation with Jon; he’d use them if he had to. She thought again of how he’d trapped her earlier, and now she shivered at the thought of what he could have done. This was the other side of the Sparhawk family, the ruthless, violent side that she’d heard whispered of, but had never seen in the front room at Hazard’s, the side that had made them their fortunes as privateers and in a score of other risky ventures.

      Including, she realized now, her own.

      Her shoulders drooped, and she touched the locket with her daughter’s picture. For Belinda’s sake, she didn’t want to do as Jon asked, but for Belinda’s sake, too, she knew she had no choice.

      “Very well,” she said softly. “But I’ll send word to you, mind? You must promise me not to come here again. It’s too dangerous.”

      Jon’s heavy brows curled down with contempt. “War is dangerous, Catie. If I hadn’t wanted to do what I could against the British here in Newport, why, I would have taken the children and scurried off to Providence with my parents.”

      “I almost wish you had,” said Catie wistfully, thinking not only of Jon’s family, but of Belinda, too. His three children had dozens of doting aunts, uncles, and grandparents to watch over them, but she and Belinda had only each other. “You know that’s what Betsey would have wished.”

      His face grew studiously emotionless, the way it always did when he spoke of the pretty young wife he’d lost in childbirth two years before. “Betsey wished for many things.”

      “This is one wish you could grant her,” said Catie gently. “All I’m saying is that I—that we—must be careful, Jon, very careful. Your cousin Anthony is not a man to take lightly.”

      “And you be careful, too, Mrs. Hazard.” Unexpectedly he smiled, almost ruefully. “I know what I’m asking, Catie, and what it must cost you. You’re the most kindhearted woman I know, and here I am trying to turn you into a low, sneaking spy.”

      But Catie’s smile in return was bleak. He didn’t know what he asked, and, God willing, he never would. As for being low and sneaking, she’d crossed that boundary long ago.

      “It won’t be that hard for me, Jon,” she said softly. “I’m wonderfully good at keeping secrets.”

       Chapter Three

      “You’ve done well, Major Sparhawk, very well,” said General Ridley as he leaned back in his chair, making a little tent of his spread fingers on the mound of his belly. “Don’t think for a moment that I don’t appreciate the importance of your contribution to this campaign. That little cove you suggested for the landing was a capital choice, sir, a capital choice. We’ve taken the best harbor in the north, one of the richest cities, too, and not a single man lost. I’d like to see Howe say the same, eh?”

      He chuckled, his watery blue eyes glancing around the room, past Anthony, with smug pleasure. “And I ask you, Major, have you ever seen more handsome quarters! A house fit for a gentleman, this one, even an English gentleman, eh?”

      Anthony nodded curtly, not trusting himself to say or do more. The house that the general had appropriated for his headquarters was the grandest one in town, as was proper. The pale winter sun filtered through tall windows hung with red damask that matched the coverings on the chairs. The mahogany tea table was set with a delicate service of Canton ware, the translucent porcelain rimmed with gold, and more of the china filled the two tall cupboards that flanked the fireplace. The wall paneling and the mantelpiece were the finest work of Newport woodworkers, as was the stairway СКАЧАТЬ