Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [99]
She looked ghostly in the gloom that was growing from the clouds rushing toward shore. “Aren’t you . . . aren’t you working against your own country?”
“Only if the man perpetrating the abductions is part of the British government’s own plan for war.” He could smile fully now. “Which he isn’t.”
“How can you be sure of that?” She hugged her arms across her middle, as though she were cold or her belly hurt. Her hat brim masked her eyes again. “Do you . . . know who it is?”
“No, not for certain. But my uncle would know if England wanted war with America.” He tamped down his eagerness to explain more and enlist her aid. “But someone in the Navy is working with him, and who that is, my uncle doesn’t know.”
“And you’re supposed to find out everything.”
Dominick nodded. “But I’ve discovered I can’t do this on my own.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “I expect you’ve always known you can’t do this on your own, and the spinster midwife was an excellent ally.”
“No, Tabitha—”
“Never mind protests.” She gave him a half smile. “Why do you think I can possibly help?”
“Because I suspect I know who the perpetrator is, and with your assistance, I can find proof.”
25
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Tabitha stared at Dominick, taking in every feature, memorizing each detail, from his long-lashed dark eyes to the strong cheekbones and jaw, to the hint of russet in the swath of satiny brown hair falling over his shoulders. This mental portrait was likely all she would have of him—whatever pretty speeches he made about loving her—if she helped him.
If she helped him, he would leave like all the rest.
Her heart an aching mass in her chest, she rose without speaking and began to clean up the remnants of their meal. Her eyes burned. The clouds sweeping over the sea blurred around the edges, and the lowering sun blazed with a halo around the center gold.
She felt sick. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dominick watching her, and wanted to throw the basket at him, pelt him with strawberries and gull-picked crab shells. She wanted to shout at him, “I am not going to help you leave me alone and be bride of nothing but the mist.”
Instead, she gathered up the basket and started for the house without a word, without a backward glance. “How could You be so cruel to me again, God?” She sobbed the words aloud, thinking maybe the Supreme Being would hear her. She was too far away for Dominick to catch her quiet wail above the surf and wind.
She thought.
His hand closed over hers on the basket handle. “Tabitha, look at me.”
“Why should I?” She blinked against the mist in her eyes. “I’ll never forget your face.”
“All right, then answer me this question of logic.” His voice held a note of humor, as though he were about to laugh, and she wanted to shove her fingers into her ears. “You are a logical woman, practical and even scientific.”
She shrugged.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He removed the basket from her hand, switched it to his other side, and clasped her fingers. “If God doesn’t care about you, how can you blame Him for everyone leaving you?”
“If God is all love and forgiveness, how can you think you have to earn your redemption?” She glared at him. “Dominick, this is going to get you killed.” She saw the dark, triangular head, the catlike eyes, and pressed her hand to her stomach. “It almost did. That snake was meant for you, and the person didn’t care if he got me instead this time. That means someone knows and—Dominick, you’ve got to run away. I’ll help.”
Maybe they could go together.
“There’s land and freedom beyond the mountains.” A plan began to form in her head. “No one will find you, not this person wanting to start a war, not Mayor Kendall, not—”
“Shh.” He slipped his arm around her waist and held her against his side. “I can’t run away. I have a mission to fulfill. I need to show my family, my country, and God that I can do something important, something right.”
“And you will.” She pulled away from him. “You