Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(72)

“I would like to continue our lessons, my dear,” Lavinia said, smiling at Angelique. “I only have a few more weeks left before Father will send me back to civilized society. And I’m determined to have some success with you before I leave.”

At least during the confinement over the past couple of weeks, Lavinia had stopped focusing so much on her appearance and had turned instead to her education. Angelique was surprised to find how much she enjoyed Lavinia’s lessons on reading and writing.

A shout and two soldiers stiffening and cocking their rifles by the North Sally Port drew their attention.

“Take me to the colonel” came a familiar voice, followed by the sight of Pierre’s swarthy frame swaggering between the two British sentinels.

Pierre was safe.

Angelique released a breath and sagged against Miriam.

Miriam squeezed her arm. “God be praised,” she whispered so quietly that Angelique almost missed it.

Pierre shrugged off the grip of one of the soldiers as they made their way down the steep hill toward the soldiers’ barracks. The soldiers lounging on the porch were polishing their guns. Several wore bandages from wounds sustained in the battle. They grew silent, and their expressions darkened at the sight of Pierre.

Angelique had the overwhelming urge to run to him, throw herself against him, and tell him she’d been wrong yesterday, that the only place in the world she wanted to be was in his arms.

But agony held her back. It was the same anguish that had been tearing through her since she’d realized she’d been unfaithful toward Jean, that she was becoming the kind of woman she’d been trying so hard not to be.

The British sentinel regained his grip on Pierre’s arm, but Pierre yanked away from him. “We’ve got orders to bring you in,” the young man said as he reached for his sword.

“I insist that you take me to Colonel McDouall first.” Pierre’s voice rose in anger.

“I’ve got orders to take you straight to the guardhouse.” The soldier unsheathed the sword and pointed the blade at Pierre.

With one swift kick Pierre sent the soldier and the sword tumbling away from him down the hill.

An instant later the other soldier raised his musket, aiming the barrel at Pierre’s head. “Don’t move,” the soldier yelled, “or you’re a dead man.”

Angelique started forward, but Miriam’s grip on her arm stopped her from recklessly charging toward Pierre in a foolish attempt to come to his aid.

“What’s the problem?” came the strong voice of Lieutenant Steele from the doorway of the storehouse. More empty barrels and crates had been stacked outside the house, a sign the British were running dangerously low on supplies again.

“I’ve got Durant,” the soldier replied, the gun against Pierre’s temple wobbling a little.

The lieutenant leaned against the doorframe and seemed to casually observe the situation, although he’d pushed aside his coat and his fingers had strayed to the pistol holstered at his side.

When Lavinia walked out of the officers’ quarters and shielded her eyes from the glaring sun to peer at Pierre, Angelique let herself breathe. If anyone could help Pierre, Lavinia could. “Let Mr. Durant go,” Lavinia commanded the soldier. “There is no reason to treat him like a common criminal.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss McDouall,” the soldier said, “but I have orders to bring in Mr. Durant if he makes an appearance.”

“Orders from whom?” Lavinia asked.

The soldier glanced at Lieutenant Steele.

The lieutenant shoved away from the doorframe and sauntered toward Lavinia.

“I can explain everything if you take me to the colonel,” Pierre said, glancing sideways at the gun.

The hard glare in Pierre’s eyes sent a shiver through Angelique, and she prayed he wouldn’t try to break free from the soldier. He’d only get himself shot in the process.

Lieutenant Steele halted in front of Lavinia. “I sincerely apologize, Miss McDouall.” He then turned to Miriam. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Durant.”

Miriam’s face paled, and her fingers dug into Angelique’s arm.

“What is this all about?” Lavinia demanded, glancing from the lieutenant to Pierre and back.

Pierre’s attention shifted to the women, as if noticing them for the first time. He looked first at Miriam, then at Angelique.

Dismay chased away his bravado, sending a chill to Angelique’s heart. They both knew what was happening and there was no use pretending otherwise. The British had figured out Pierre was a spy.

Lieutenant Steele spoke quietly, almost gently to Miriam. “I regret to inform you that we have reason to suspect your son is guilty of espionage.”

Miriam didn’t say anything. The pain that lined her face did all the talking.

“Well of course he’s guilty of espionage,” Lavinia said testily. “Everyone knows he’s been spying on the Americans and reporting back to Daddy.”

“Maybe he was spying on the Americans.” Lieutenant Steele threw a glance at Pierre, one that revealed his disgust. “But who knows if what he was reporting to the colonel was the truth or only what the Americans wanted us to believe was the truth.”

“Pierre has been a good friend to both Daddy and me,” Lavinia said. “He would never be dishonest with us. Would you, Pierre?”