Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(57)

After draining the water from the tub and giving the towels another rinse, I realized that my white nightgown looked as though it had been through a war. I managed to rinse the blood out of the hem, but by the time I’d done that and wrung out the towels to leave them to dry, my thin cotton gown was so damp as to be transparent. I couldn’t go out to face Henry like that, so I took his dressing gown off the hook on the back of the door and wrapped it around myself.

I returned to the bedroom to find him dozing. I checked his pulse and found that although it was weaker and more rapid than would be considered healthy, it was stronger and steadier than it had been earlier. “Yes, I’m still alive,” he said sleepily without opening his eyes. “Now, have some tea and let’s see if it was worth all my spilled blood.”

I didn’t need urging to pour myself a cup of tea and add plenty of sugar. Now that the immediate crisis was over, I could feel the shock setting in. My legs felt watery and my hands shook. I downed the whole cup before picking up the packet I’d found in Henry’s overcoat pocket. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what’s in it,” I said, trying to keep a light, teasing tone in my voice to hide the tremor.

“I was too occupied with fleeing for my life to stop to look. It would be just my luck if it’s nothing more than birthday greetings to a friend.”

With trembling fingers, I opened the package and pulled out several sheets of paper covered in bold handwriting. When I saw Henry trying to sit up so he could read, I moved closer to him and held the pages so that he could see by the light of the fire.

The contents were more astonishing than I anticipated. The governor admitted that there had been some kind of fraud or mismanagement that was about to bankrupt the colonial government and begged his friend for a loan to tide the colonies over until the matter could be investigated and resolved.

When he’d finished reading, Henry let out a low whistle. “And to think, it’s in his own handwriting. This is exactly what we needed, worth every drop of blood. Even all those fence-sitters should be up in arms about this. I need to take this letter around to all those who denied me before.”

“You won’t be doing that for a couple of days, not if you don’t want anyone to find it suspicious that you’ve got a bad shoulder right after the governor’s courier shot someone who stole these documents.”

With a sigh, he said, “I’m not sure I can safely do it ever. Being specifically linked to this letter would put me in great danger.”

“So, it takes large doses of pain medicine to make you think rationally,” I teased. More seriously, I added, “I can get it to the Mechanics, to go in their newspapers. We know there are magisters who read them.”

“You can’t be linked to it, either.”

“Liberty Jones is willing to cede this scoop to some other reporter.”

“We need to put this directly into the hands of people we know we can trust. As dangerous as it may be to hold on to this news, let’s wait until we get back to New York.”

“You can’t keep this sort of thing all that time, in the governor’s house!”

“I know. But you can.”

“Me?”

“No one is going to search your room. Why would a governess who’s never out of sight of her charges have incriminating evidence in her possession? And you’re less likely to have servants pawing through your belongings in the name of being helpful.”

He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath through clenched teeth. “Though if you are to remain above suspicion, you should probably get back to your room and make sure it shows no signs of intrusion. I’ll need you to help me up and into bed first, though.”

As I got my hands under his good shoulder to help him sit up and then get to his feet, I said, “You know you’re not going to be anything like back to normal by tomorrow. How will you explain your condition?”

He leaned heavily on me as we walked around to the head of the bed, where I pulled back the covers and allowed him to fall onto the mattress. “I have come down with a terrible case of the flu.”

“You really do need a doctor,” I said as I pulled the covers up over him.

“Believe it or not, I’ve had worse. Armed robbery is a dangerous business.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for being my rock. We would all be doomed without you.”

“That medicine has gone to your head,” I chided. I reluctantly slipped my hand out of his, but I couldn’t resist brushing the hair off his forehead.

I thought he smiled ever so slightly, and was that a sigh, or a moan of pain? “Now go to bed, Verity,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

I checked the room one last time for signs of blood and made sure the medical supplies were all packed away in the trunk before I slipped out of Henry’s dressing gown and left it draped across the footboard. I picked up the stolen letter and tucked it up under one sleeve of my gown, then listened for a long moment at the door before opening it. When I detected no signs of life in the hallway, I darted across to my room.

I’d hidden things before, but never anything quite this important or damning. Being caught with this letter in my possession would likely be considered treason, even if they could find no evidence of my participation in the robbery, and I was in an unfamiliar house being run by the governor. I couldn’t think of any reason for anyone to deliberately search my room for contraband, so in devising a hiding place I tried to think of places no servant would have any reason to look while packing, unpacking, or arranging my wardrobe. I thought for a moment about one of my books, but there was the risk that one of the children might look there. I encouraged them to borrow books from me.