“We must move him. Ashby knows Andrew is here. Mother, I swear he knows.” Jenny twisted the handkerchief in her hands as she looked out the window into the evening.

“I believe you’re right, but where can we take him?”

Jenny studied the street. Was Ashby out there now? Watching and waiting for the opportunity to return for Andrew? Clouds darkened the sky, but it would be wiser to wait for nightfall before moving him.

“Mother, did you get a message out about the risk of approaching our home?”

“Yes, I did. What plan is hatching in that brain of yours?”

“After sunset, I’ll fetch Ephraim. He and Mathias can put Andrew in the carriage and take him to the apothecary. With Mr. Montclair’s death, if the British had been watching it before, they no longer have a reason. Lucy can tend him, probably better than I can here. Andrew would be safe there until he can return to Boston with us.”

“Jennifer, it could be weeks. Ashby will keep a close watch on you now. Andrew might not be strong enough to travel before your …”

“Wedding day.” She breathed deeply. “I know.” She pivoted to Mother. “But what choice do we have? Either we chance moving him or Ashby will have him hanged.” She rubbed her throbbing temples as blood pulsed there. Her limbs prickled with the urge to move, to act, to do something to keep Andrew safe. Mother’s reasoning was logical, but logic didn’t work in the world in which they now lived. Risk, lies, menace were the words of the day. She struck her palm with her fist. It was time.

“I’m going to tell Mathias to ready the mare. As soon as it is dark, I will ride to the Carters’.”

“It will be dangerous.”

“I know, Mother. Everything in our lives has become dangerous.”

Dressed in the clothes she wore the night Andrew first came to her, Jenny mounted the mare. She had secured her hair tighter tonight to keep it from tumbling out from beneath the slouch hat. A light rain fell. Good. It would discourage people from being about.

“Let’s go, Aggie.” She clicked her tongue and the mare walked along the side of the house toward the dark street. Turning in the direction of the main street, she nudged the mare to a trot.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A rider rode out from behind the trees across from her house, approached, and blocked her way.

Terrified, she reined Aggie in. Expecting to see the scarlet coat of a British soldier to her left, she was puzzled to face a tattered brown jacket. Her gaze traveled up the buttons of the coat to peer into its owner’s face.

Martin Wirth. He rested a rifle on his shoulder, using only one hand to handle his horse. A large steed to accommodate a large man.

“Mr. Wirth.” She looked around for his brother. Abel appeared from the shadows on another large mount. “And Mr. Wirth.”

“Now, where in God’s great earth are ya’ going? And dressed like a lad?”

She looked from brother to brother. They had already saved Andrew’s life once. Perhaps they could help again. She explained the situation.

Without any consultation, as one they turned their horses toward her house. Jenny scrutinized the shadows but saw no one watching them.

Tying up their horses, they followed her into the house.

Mother’s frightened face met them at the door. “I heard you in the yard, Jennifer. What is wrong—” She clutched her shawl at the sight of the two men. Then her face broke into a grin. “The Wirth brothers—how fortunate.”

The men ducked their way into the door, removing their hats.

“Good evenin’, Mrs. Sutton.” Abel made a half bow.

“Mrs. Sutton.” Martin did the same.

Jenny frowned at them, curious. “What brought you to our house at such a convenient time?”

The brothers glanced at each other, shifting uncomfortably.

“We decided to hang about a bit, seein’ as how Andrew was in such a bad way,” Martin said. “We didn’t think …we didn’t know …we knew if he died here, you ladies would need to leave and quick. And we kept seein’ that lobsterback lurkin’ about.” He looked at Jenny. “Lucky for you miss, he must’a gotten hungry or bored, because he was there until about five minutes before you came out.”

Jenny shuddered.

“Jennifer was on her way to the apothecary. We need to move Andrew immediately because ‘that lobsterback,’ as you call him, seems to know Andrew is here.”

The men nodded.

“You have a cart?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll take him.”

Jenny slumped against the wall. She remembered how heavy Andrew had been when they had tried to lift him back into bed. Even Mathias had struggled to heft his weight. For these two, it would be like carrying a large doll. Hadn’t they brought him here all the way from Hart Island?

“Thank you both.” Her voice broke.

Martin patted her shoulder. “Don’t fret, Miss Sutton. We’ll get him to the apothecary safely.”

Lucy Carter led them to the rooms above the apothecary where Laurence Montclair had lived. She hesitated on the landing, wiping her tears with the edge of her apron. “This way.” She held the candle high.

The Wirth brothers propped Andrew between them, his toes not even reaching the floor. His head dropped forward, swaying with their movement. When they reached the bed, Martin took Andrew’s weight while Abel swung his legs up onto the mattress. Jenny pulled the covers over his trembling body, then took his hand.

Lucy returned shortly with a small vial. Popping off the cork, she dribbled some on a spoon and slipped it into Andrew’s mouth. He coughed, spitting some back at her, spattering her shawl. She chuckled. “He’s still got fight left in him. Leave him to me, Miss Sutton. We’ll get his strength back.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Carter.” She lifted her gaze to the two men. “Thank you both.” Her shoulders dropped as exhaustion—and relief—seeped through every muscle and joint.

After Lucy escorted the men downstairs, Jenny scanned the bedroom. She had known Laurence Montclair so briefly. It seemed intrusive, almost voyeuristic, to be viewing his personal belongings like this. His brush and comb lay beside the ewer and basin on his dresser, each item carefully placed before he left the morning he was murdered. She shivered. All the furniture was walnut, the counterpane and curtains, crisp, the linen, ivory. The four-poster bed sat positioned near the window to catch the morning sun’s rays from the east.

The window! She snapped the shutters closed. Dear God, please let us have been unobserved tonight. She breathed deeply to quell the panic rising within.

Andrew shifted, groaning in his sleep.

She returned to his side. “You must get well, my love.” A tear escaped, a tiny rivulet down her cheek. “We must keep you safe.”

Lucy appeared in the doorway. “I will stay with him tonight. It’s best if you return home.”

She nodded. But how could she leave him?

“Miss Sutton? The men are waiting to escort you home now.”

She rose, still holding his hand. Finally, she released it and started for the door. Looking back one last time, she stopped. Even in sleep, a crease formed between his brows.

Sadness or pain?

True to his word, Lieutenant Ashby arrived in the morning, hoisting a trunk of his clothing. When Jenny saw the trunk, she folded her arms, drawing her blue shawl around her shoulders. She had never imagined this marriage would actually take place, but seeing his belongings in her house brought the truth of it. He started toward the stairs, his expression eager with expectation of what—or whom—he would discover up there.

Jenny blocked his way. “We are not married yet, Nigel. It would be inappropriate for you to be abovestairs before we are.”

He looked at her as if noting her presence for the first time, scrutinized the top of the stairway, then snorted softly in frustration.

Mother appeared beside her. “Jennifer is correct. I am sure as an officer in King George’s army, you would never want to appear crude or cause your fiancée to appear compromised.”

He inhaled deeply, planting his feet in an unyielding stance. “My apology, although my presence there last night seems to have set a precedent.”

“Your presence there last night was on your insistence because you thought we were in danger.” Sarie appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a broom. Mother glanced up at her, then back at him. “You can clearly see the only danger we may be in is from too much dust.”

He bowed, but upon rising, his face was stone. “However, I cannot leave this heavy trunk here for you ladies to grapple with, so I will make haste to deposit it upstairs, leaving your reputation unsullied.”

He pushed past them and mounted the stairs. Sarie allowed him to pass into the room where Andrew had recently lain. His footsteps were heavy as he tromped over the wood floor. The door of the armoire slammed, the scrape of his boots signaled his search under the bed.

“Damn.”

Mother smothered a laugh, but Jenny’s heart raced at the thought of what would have happened had Andrew still been there. She listened as he opened the doors to her bedroom and Mother’s. She balled her fists in fury.

Once he’d descended the stairs, she rushed at him, thrusting her face toward his. “You take inappropriate liberties, sir. You have no right to search our house.”

“I have every right under the order of King George.” He took her hand and pulled her closer, his breath caressing her face. “My tender feelings toward you grow more fervent every day, Miss Sutton, but remember, I am an officer of the Crown and I must perform my duty. However, as my wife, you will be protected.”

Mother stepped between them. “But she is not your wife yet, Lieutenant Ashby. It would be best if you leave now.”

“And I offer my protection to you, madam. You would be wise to be grateful.” He bowed, planted his hat on his head, and left.

Mother placed an arm around her. “Are you all right, darling?”

Jenny nodded, wiping on her skirt the hand he’d just held. “He’s a bastard.”

“Generally, I would punish you for that language, but instead, I’ll praise you for your accuracy. Though I believe his fondness for you is sincere.”

“Be that as it may, he knows our lives hinge on his good graces. He is playing cat and mouse with us. I believe he knew Andrew—or someone we were protecting—was here last night. Which will win the day? His fondness for me or his duty to King George? We must leave as soon as possible.”

“Jennifer, perhaps we should leave Andrew in Carters’ care. I believe he will be safe there and—”

“No. I left him once. I can never do that again. And I can no longer live with lies.”