The Wick House, despite its modest size, was plainly the property of a wealthy man: there was a forge, a grain mill, and a sizable stable nearby. The wealthy man either was a rebel or had been forcibly evicted, for there were regimental flags planted near the door and a blue-nosed sentry outside, clearly there to weed out unwelcome visitors.

Well, it had worked once … William put his shoulders back, lifted his head, and walked up to the door as though he owned the place.

“I have a message for Dr. Hunter,” he said. “Will I find him here?”

The sentry gave him a look from rheumy, bloodshot eyes.

“No, you won’t,” he said.

“May I inquire where he is, then?”

The sentry cleared his throat and spat, the gob of mucus not quite landing on the toe of William’s boot.

“He’s inside. But you won’t find him there because I’m not letting you in. You got a message, give me it.”

“It must be given into the doctor’s hands,” William said firmly, and reached for the doorknob.

The sentry took two steps sideways and stood in front of the door, musket held across his chest and his blue nose forbidding in its righteousness.

“You aren’t a-coming in, friend,” he said. “The doctor’s with Brigadier Bleeker, and he’s not to be disturbed.”

William made a low sound that wasn’t quite a growl. It didn’t affect Blue Nose, though, and he tried again.

“What about Mrs. Hunter? Is she in camp, perhaps?” God, he hoped not. He glanced over his shoulder at the sprawling mess below.

“Oh. Aye. She’s in there.” The sentry jerked a thumb backward, indicating the house. “With the doctor and the brigadier.”

“The brigadier … that would be …?”

“General Bleeker. General Ralph Bleeker.”

William sighed.

“Well, if I can’t go in, would you be so kind as to go inside and tell her that her cousin has come with a message for her husband? She can come out and get it, surely.”

It nearly worked. He could see doubt warring with duty on the man’s face—but duty won, and Blue Nose doggedly shook his head and waved a hand.

“Shoo.”

William turned on his heel and did so. He strode down the hill, not looking back—and turned aside as soon as the growth of shrubs and small trees hid him from the sentry’s view.

It took no little while to circle the hilltop and make his way carefully up through the grain mill, but he was able to blend in with the people waiting there to have their flour ground and could easily see the house. Yes, there was a back door. And no, glory be to God, there was no sentry—at least not right this moment.

He waited until the small crowd had stopped noticing him and stepped away in the half-furtive manner of a man going for a piss. Quick past the forge and up to the door, and … in.