“That seems wise,” I said. “One cannot become sentimental about one’s adversaries. I shall never mention the prisoners again.”

“Thank you. You are all agreeableness.”

“Is that so?”

“No. You are much more that.” He drew closer, his hand drifting to my waist, a seductive smile spreading over his lips. “You are kindness and wit and virtue. You are elegance and gentility.”

Wit, I’d claim, but the rest? It was all smoke. “And you, James, are a flatterer.”

He laughed. “Guilty. ’Tis your effect on me.”

We began to walk again. As the path took us through groves of apple and pear trees, he described good land in Maryland that had caught his eye. I knew exactly where the conversation was heading. “Weybridge has not felt much like home since my father’s passing, and I’ve grown rather attached to America. There’s great opportunity here. When things are settled again, after the war, I believe—”

“Duncan,” Major André called behind us. “Excuse the interruption, Miss Coates,” he said as he hurried up. “I must steal him for a few moments, but I promise he’ll soon be yours again.” His eyes darted to Duncan, flashing with mischief. “I daresay for as long as you’ll have him.”

“He is yours, sir,” I replied with a smile. “Take your time. I’ll just wander ahead a bit.”

I left them and wandered deeper into the gardens, where the foliage grew thicker and wilder. I found myself staring into the deeper patches of darkness, my breath shallow and quick.

Was Sewel here?

The pearl choker was still wrapped in the kerchief inside my purse.

I was ready for him. Ready for marriage proposals. Ready for anything.

But not rain.

I stopped and looked up as I felt the first fat drops.

Suddenly, the hair on my arms lifted. I heard quick footsteps on the gravel. Saw a dark blur. Then iron arms struck me and wrapped me up.

I twisted wildly. “Let me go!”

Sewel’s hand slammed over my mouth, smothering my cry. “Hush.” He pulled me off the path, past thorny brambles. “Bloody hell, Francisca. Shut up and be still!”

I couldn’t. I kicked and thrashed, my mind gone. He’d hurt me. He’d killed Malcolm. His smell, the feeling of him against me—they were from my nightmares.

“Enough, Fran!” He grabbed my hair and wrenched. My head cranked sharply to the side. “You done yet?”

I nodded as best I could with my ear against my shoulder. His hand came away from my mouth.

“Let go of me, Sewel.” I gasped for air. My scalp burned. My neck pulsed with pain. “I won’t run. I’m through running from you.”

“Are you, now?” He let go. I straightened and spun away, but he held my wrist.

Through the scrim of leaves, I saw the scarlet of Duncan’s coat. He was rounding the path and would soon come upon us. Reaching into my purse with my free hand, I grabbed the kerchief with the pearls inside and shoved it at Sewel’s chest. “Take this. Use it to get a skiff and meet me at the ropewalk north of the ship yards tonight at three. I’ll give you ten times more than what’s in there if you leave me be. Now let go of me, Sewel. Let go before he sees.”