eighteenth-century Long Island materializing before her eyes.
Chapter 64
November 1777
Long Island
Jocelyn buried her face in her hands, trembling violently as she recalled the horror of that night and the look in Jared’s eyes as he was hauled away, his arms wrenched behind his back, his face covered in blood, his fate sealed. The weeks that followed had been a blur, made bearable only by Anna’s unwavering support and quiet understanding. Jocelyn had been desperate to remember her past, but now that she did, she wished she hadn’t. Only a few days ago, she’d believed that she might have been part of a close family and wed to a man who loved her. Today, she knew better. And she owed the Wilders the truth. She could no longer keep up the pretense in the hope that the truth, once discovered, would be palatable.
The Battle of Brandywine, fought on September 11, had been lost, her part in trying to change the outcome no longer important. If the Wilders chose to turn her over to Lieutenant Reynolds, so be it. She no longer cared. She was all alone, carrying a child conceived in an act of violence and hatred. She didn’t blame the baby. It was innocent in all this, but she’d be lying if she said she felt any love toward it.
Forcing herself to her feet, Jocelyn made her way downstairs, where Hannah was washing up after supper, and Ben and Derek sat by the fire in the parlor, talking quietly. Josh must have gone to bed, which was just as well, since this wasn’t a story for a young boy.
“May I speak to you all?” Jocelyn said, her voice quivering as she forced out the words. Once she told them the truth, there’d be no going back. She realized she didn’t want to leave. She felt safe here and cared for.
“Of course,” Hannah said. “Are you quite all right, Alice?”
Jocelyn shook her head. “No,” she replied. I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again, she thought as she took a seat at the table and waited for the others to join her.
“My name is Jocelyn Sinclair,” she began. “I was an actress at the John Street Theatre before the war began.”
“You’ve remembered. How wonderful,” Hannah exclaimed, but the look on Jocelyn’s face silenced her. “I’m sorry. Do go on.”
And she did. She told them everything, from being recruited by Richard Kinney, whose name she didn’t divulge, to the day she’d boarded a ship named Peregrine bound for Virginia, where she’d intended to stay with Greg until she felt ready to face the world again.
The Wilders stared at her in horror, even Derek, who’d already known part of the truth.
“My dear girl,” Hannah exclaimed. “What you have been through. Oh, if only I’d known.”
“You’ve been the soul of kindness, Hannah. I could never repay you for the care and understanding you’ve shown me.”
“You sound like you’re leaving,” Ben said, his gaze searching her face anxiously.
“I can’t put you out any longer. I will make my way to Virginia, to my brother’s house.”
“Alice, eh, I mean Jocelyn,” Hannah said, the name strange on her tongue. “What of your young man?” she asked quietly.
“Court-martialed for assaulting a senior officer and sentenced to hang,” Jocelyn replied, her voice flat. She could barely get the words out, much less allow herself to focus on what they meant. “Anna saw it in the paper.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” Hannah cried, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“Jocelyn, you don’t need to leave,” Derek said, reaching out to take her hand. “You are a part of this family now. Please, don’t go.”
Jocelyn nodded, tears threatening to fall again. “I need some air,” she choked out, and fled outside. She ran as far as the stile and stopped, panting as the memories assaulted her once again. Now that she recalled Major Radcliffe’s assault, she couldn’t get it out of her mind. She could feel his hands on her hips, his swollen cock inside her, robbing her of her innocence and dignity with every savage thrust. And now she carried his child, a child who’d be a constant reminder, especially if it was a boy.
The wind had picked up since the afternoon, and Jocelyn shivered, suddenly realizing she was cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, surprised when a coat was draped over her shoulders. Ben stood next to her, his eyes warm with sympathy.
“You’ll catch your death,” he said quietly.
“I should have died in that shipwreck,” Jocelyn said vehemently. “I’d have been