Anthony smiled again and bowed slightly in acknowledgment, while she in her turn did nothing. Blast her impertinence, he thought irritably. Not only was it an insult to the crown he represented, but such rudeness stung his pride, as well. Mrs. Hazard was a beautiful woman, and beautiful women seldom scorned him like this.
In peacetime she’d be too young to be a widow, perhaps only in her middle twenties, and far too young for the responsibility of running so large a tavern. Her hair was the pale color of new wheat, her eyes a solemn gray that was at odds with a mouth that could, he suspected, blossom into ripe, lush temptation under more auspicious circumstances. She dressed with a peculiar blend of respectability and elegance in a flowered wool gown with a kerchief of sheer embroidered lawn tied over the front, a starched apron around her small waist and a gold locket in the shape of a heart pinned to the front of her bodice.
“You will forgive me, Major Sparhawk, if I have left you too long to enjoy this fine fire and this handsome, comfortable room,” she said, her sarcasm impossible to overlook. “I am somewhat shorthanded today, you see. A number of my people fled when they heard you and your brethren had come to save us from ourselves.”
“It is seldom the way of war to be agreeable, ma’am,” said Anthony evenly, determined to keep his temper. He knew she was baiting him, but the knowledge didn’t make it any easier to bear. “Perhaps you should be grateful instead that our coming was so peaceable, and that none of your people were wounded or killed in the process.”
She cocked one eyebrow and tipped her head, her gray eyes narrowing skeptically. “Grateful? Oh, I’d be a good deal more grateful if I weren’t expected to offer food and shelter to you and your men. I’m told I’ll have two dozen soldiers sleeping on mats in my attic alone.”
“You will receive just compensation for the quarters, ma’am,” said Peterson promptly, “and the men will receive their usual provisions, both fresh and salt. I thought I’d explained that well enough before.”
But Anthony doubted she even heard the lieutenant, her gaze was so fixed on him. “What of my four maidservants, major? They are accustomed to attending gentlemen and ladies of the better sort, not a troop of rough soldiers.”
“You have my assurance, ma’am, that the women will be unharmed,” said Anthony. If the maidservants were half as prickly as their mistress, then his men were the ones who’d need defending, not the other way around. “There will be no problems with my men. I give you my word upon it, both as a gentleman and an officer.”
To his surprise, Mrs. Hazard abruptly lost her studied composure as bright pink patches appeared on either cheek. “Your word as a gentleman, sir? As an officer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, intrigued by the change the blush made in her face, “my word as both, and you’ve no reason to doubt either.”
“Indeed.” Her mouth twisted into a tight little smile that made no sense to Anthony, and then, with a sudden flurry of petticoats, she turned on her heel. “If you will but follow me. Major, I’ll show you to your room.”
Anthony gathered his hat and cloak, nodded to Peterson, and followed her to the staircase, still wondering what he’d done or said to make her blush so becomingly. He wished he knew for certain; he’d like to do it again.
Sorting through the jingling keys on her ring, she walked up the stairs briskly before Anthony, giving him an unintentional but appealing display of her ankles. Her yellow thread stockings matched her gown, the worked flowers the same pink and blue, and he smiled to himself. No matter that the British army had invaded her town. Mistress Hazard had still found the time and presence of mind this morning to match her stockings to her gown when she dressed.
“I have put you here in the green room, Major,” she said as she unlocked the door and pushed it open, standing to one side to let him pass. “I trust it will suit?”
“How could it not, ma’am?” Anthony tossed his hat and cloak on the bed, noting with satisfaction that his trunk and saddlebags had already arrived. Like the rest of the tavern, the room was simply but elegantly furnished, the tall-posted bed hung with the dark green chintz that must have given the room its name. “We poor soldiers seldom have such grand quarters.”
Her glance alone managed to scornfully dismiss his comment for the gallantry it was. “According to the lieutenant, you’ll have a cord of wood for your fire delivered here each week. I suggest you draw your curtains tightly around the bed at night, Major Sparhawk. Clearly your dear king is unfamiliar with Rhode Island winters, else he would have granted his officers three cords instead of one.”
With her arms folded over her chest, she walked across the room to the window. She moved gracefully, the ring of keys swinging from her waist and clinking with each step. “I thought you would prefer this room in the front, where you and your guards can see who comes and goes and make sure none of us wicked rebels tries to escape.”
But this time Anthony wasn’t listening to her gibes. The weak winter sun was slanting through the window, lighting the full curve of her cheek in a way that seemed oddly familiar. He thought again of how she’d blushed, and that, too, helped drag up some fragment of a memory.
“We’ve met before, Mrs. Hazard, haven’t we?” It was less a question than a statement, and he frowned as he stepped closer to her, trying to find her place in his past. “Here in Newport, long ago. At a party, perhaps, a dance or assembly?”
“You’re mistaken, Major,” she said quickly, too quickly for it to be anything but a lie. Restlessly she touched her fingers to the polished gold locket on her bodice. “You and I would never have been guests at the same houses.”
He waved his hand impatiently, as if to brush aside her denial. “I told you it would have been long ago, long before this rebellion. I was sickly as a lad, and my grandparents sent me here to take the sea air. Even after my health improved, I returned from affection alone. I stayed with my uncle, Captain Gabriel Sparhawk. Perhaps at his house, we might have—”
She stared at him, openly incredulous. “You truly have no shame, no loyalties, do you? For you to dare to speak of a gentleman as fine and good as Gabriel Sparhawk, a gentleman I’ve been honored to know both in business and in friendship?”
Anthony’s frown deepened. “And why should I not speak of my own uncle?”
“Why not, indeed, considering everything else that has befallen him and his poor wife these last days?”
“I do not—”
“No, you do not and you did not,” she said sharply, her eyes flashing. “Or will you pretend that you didn’t know your uncle was on your general’s list of rebels to be taken prisoner? At least his true friends saw to it that he escaped in time, he and Mistress Sparhawk and their last daughter Rachel. At least now they’re safe from you.”
Anthony listened, considering how much of her raving to believe. In Boston and on Long Island he’d seen himself how cunning the rebels could be at manipulating emotions with half-truths for their own purposes, and Mrs. Hazard could well be doing exactly that
He had not heard from his uncle or his cousins for years, but given the mails between old England and new, that was hardly unusual. As soon as he learned that the regiment was bound for Newport, of course he’d thought of his relatives there, but it was inconceivable that a gentleman as intelligent and respected as his uncle Gabriel would have let himself be swayed to support treason.
For whatever reason, then, the Hazard woman was lying. But what the devil did she hope to gain by doing so?
“My uncle and his family would never have cause to fear me,” he said, carefully watching Mrs. Hazard’s face. “He must know that, but if you tell me where I might find him, I’ll be happy to reassure him and my aunt myself.”
Instantly