won't matter." He hoped.
Jacob snorted. "Right. So am I invited to the wedding?"
Matthias shrugged one shoulder and led his horse out. "I suppose. If you want." He mounted the horse, aware that Jacob was glaring at him. Damn, he was giving the man his freedom, what else did he want?
Ezra Hickman's hands shook so badly he spilled brandy on his white breeches. Damnation. He raised the half-full glass to his mouth and downed the contents. Nothing. No soothing comfort to his fears. He ripped his cravat loose as cold sweat dripped down his neck. How could he prove he was loyal?
His only hope would be to capture a partisan who could take the blame. He needed to deliver Matthias Murray Thomas, and fast.
Ezra dashed up the stairs to Jane Thomas's room. The silly woman should be desperate enough to talk now. He fumbled in his coat pocket for the key to the door. There was no sound from within. Was she already dead? This was her third day of confinement.
He ventured into the quiet room. "Mrs. Thomas?"
Rays of sunshine shot through the gaps on the boarded window and balcony door, casting fractured beams of light to fall across the large four-poster. A huddled form lay under the blankets, still and lifeless.
"Mrs. Thomas, wake up. It is time to talk." He pulled back the blankets. Pillows.
He yanked the blankets off the bed. It was empty.
"Mrs. Thomas!" He scanned the room.
Sunlight sparkled off shards of broken glass by the balcony door. The glass crunched under his boots as he knelt down to investigate the hole in the door. Certainly not large enough for an escape. He spotted a crock on the floor. He picked it up, uncorked it, and sniffed. Cider. Someone had been passing her food. Someone in this house.
"Damnation!" He hurtled the crock against a wall. It crashed, leaving a dripping stain of cider.
Was the woman hiding? He peered under the bed and found a large wooden circle. Then he noted the scattering of dust on the rug. Sawdust.
He looked up. "No!" The hole in the ceiling led to the third floor. Jane Thomas had made her escape right under his nose. "No, dammit, no!"
Tarleton would string him up from the nearest tree and laugh as he struggled for his last breath. The incompetent Loyalist who couldn't even control an old woman!
Ezra charged up the stairs to the third floor and flung open the doors 'til he found the room where she'd escaped. The bastards had left their saws and rope behind.
"Hell and damnation!" Blood pounded in his ears. He picked up an old lopsided chair and smashed it against the wall. Who had done this? Had Matthias himself sneaked into the house to rescue his mother? There were two saws here and the crock of cider below. Whoever this villain was, he had accomplices.
The other women in this house. Damn them, damn them all. No wench was going to send him to the gallows.
In the hallway, he caught a glimpse of skirts. "Halt!"
The woman turned.
He charged toward her. "Agatha? What are you doing here?"
She edged toward the stairs, her face pale. "I - I heard strange noises. Are you breaking furniture?"
"Jane Thomas has escaped."
Agatha's eyes widened. "How did she manage that?"
"I mean to find out. What do you know of it?"
"Nothing! I - I should go now and finish packing. I just spoke to Bertram. He agreed to take me as far as Fort Watson."
He stiffened. "You're not leaving. We have plans, remember? We're taking over Loblolly."
Agatha eased closer to the stairs. "I want to leave. 'Tis too dangerous here. I'll feel safer in Charles Town amongst the British."
"You don't think I can protect you, do you?" Ezra balled his fists. "You think I'm a failure!"
Her bottom lip trembled. "Please, don't hurt me. Let me go."
"Fine, then, bitch! Go on and desert me when I need you."
She gasped and scurried down the stairs.
Ezra drew in a long, shaky breath. His plans were crumbling around him, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He marched toward the nursery and flung open the door.
Caroline Munro started. The little girl seated next to her on the bed grabbed a pillow to hide her face. The boy jumped from his bed and eased toward his aunt.
"Was there something you wanted, Captain?" Miss Munro rose to her feet.
"What do you know of Jane Thomas?"
Miss Munro raised her chin. "I know you are slowly starving her to death."
"Indeed?" He stepped into the room. "And