admitting that Kingsley had joined a South Carolina regiment.
Farnsworth didn’t have to know that her husband had fought and died for independence, or that her brother-in-law had been a lieutenant in that same regiment until Charlestown fell to the British. She’d told him she was a widow; that was all he needed to know about her.
Despite the fact that she dressed in widow’s weeds, Diana could tell that Farnsworth was smitten with her. Under any other circumstances, she might have found the man attractive. With his curly blonde hair, muscular build, and elegant manners, Farnsworth was enough to make any woman swoon. But Diana wasn’t any woman. She hated seeing that glimmer of lust in the man’s eyes whenever he looked at her, and she dreaded the day he might decide to paw her. So far he hadn’t, and she decided she was fortunate that Farnsworth at least acted like a gentleman. He could have thrown her and Harlan out of the house. But he’d seen that Harlan was now in poor health, having suffered a heart attack shortly after news of Kingsley’s death. Farnsworth had given orders to his officers, who slept in the guest bedrooms, and the soldiers, who stayed in the barn, not to steal anything from Briarhaven or to disturb the occupants. An odd turn of events, Diana thought, given what she’d seen of the British handiwork in the area.
But for all of Captain Farnsworth’s kindnesses, Diana didn’t feel one bit guilty about the secret she kept from him, a secret that, if discovered, could very well result in her swinging from the end of a rope. Both Hattie and Harlan knew her secret. Though Harlan didn’t approve because he feared she’d fall into danger, Diana sensed he was pleased that in her own small way she was helping to defeat the British.
Once the freshly baked bread was taken from the oven, Diana sliced it into generous portions and arranged them on the plate around the jelly. She then took out a large silver tray from the cupboard and put the plate, along with a warm teapot and five cups, onto the shiny surface. As she picked up the tray she heard Hattie say, “Miss Diana, I can carry that into the parlor.”
“No,” Diana told her with a shake of her head. “You have too much to do around here already, what with cooking for Captain Farnsworth’s men. I’ll take it into Harlan and the captain. Besides,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, “one never knows what interesting tidbit of information one might accidentally overhear during teatime.”
Hattie grinned, immediately understanding.
Entering the parlor, Diana discovered that Harlan, who sat on the divan with a blanket thrown over his legs, was playing whist with Farnsworth and two of the British officers. Upon seeing Diana, the soldiers rose to their feet and Farnsworth took the tray from her, placing it on the sideboard.
“Ah, that bread smells delicious,” a junior officer known as Smythe complimented her. “We could smell it in here.”
“Help yourselves, gentlemen.” Diana waited until the three soldiers had taken their bread and tea before serving Harlan. She couldn’t help but notice that Harlan didn’t look well. The lines by his eyes, lines that had once been thin, were now deeply carved into his pasty white skin, and he shook when he took the cup from her. But his smile at her was genuine and belied his ill health. Diana hated to see that Harlan wasn’t getting any stronger. If there was only something she could do for him to make him well again she would, because she literally owed him her life.
“Join us, Mrs. Sheridan,” Samuel Farnsworth insisted as he gallantly poured her a cup of tea. “It isn’t every day we get such luxuries as tea, now that that renegade Francis Marion is plaguing the area. The supply wagon was lucky to get through without being attacked by his rebel band.”
Diana took a seat near Harlan and sipped her tea, a look of total innocence on her face. “This Marion, isn’t
Farnsworth didn’t have to know that her husband had fought and died for independence, or that her brother-in-law had been a lieutenant in that same regiment until Charlestown fell to the British. She’d told him she was a widow; that was all he needed to know about her.
Despite the fact that she dressed in widow’s weeds, Diana could tell that Farnsworth was smitten with her. Under any other circumstances, she might have found the man attractive. With his curly blonde hair, muscular build, and elegant manners, Farnsworth was enough to make any woman swoon. But Diana wasn’t any woman. She hated seeing that glimmer of lust in the man’s eyes whenever he looked at her, and she dreaded the day he might decide to paw her. So far he hadn’t, and she decided she was fortunate that Farnsworth at least acted like a gentleman. He could have thrown her and Harlan out of the house. But he’d seen that Harlan was now in poor health, having suffered a heart attack shortly after news of Kingsley’s death. Farnsworth had given orders to his officers, who slept in the guest bedrooms, and the soldiers, who stayed in the barn, not to steal anything from Briarhaven or to disturb the occupants. An odd turn of events, Diana thought, given what she’d seen of the British handiwork in the area.
But for all of Captain Farnsworth’s kindnesses, Diana didn’t feel one bit guilty about the secret she kept from him, a secret that, if discovered, could very well result in her swinging from the end of a rope. Both Hattie and Harlan knew her secret. Though Harlan didn’t approve because he feared she’d fall into danger, Diana sensed he was pleased that in her own small way she was helping to defeat the British.
Once the freshly baked bread was taken from the oven, Diana sliced it into generous portions and arranged them on the plate around the jelly. She then took out a large silver tray from the cupboard and put the plate, along with a warm teapot and five cups, onto the shiny surface. As she picked up the tray she heard Hattie say, “Miss Diana, I can carry that into the parlor.”
“No,” Diana told her with a shake of her head. “You have too much to do around here already, what with cooking for Captain Farnsworth’s men. I’ll take it into Harlan and the captain. Besides,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, “one never knows what interesting tidbit of information one might accidentally overhear during teatime.”
Hattie grinned, immediately understanding.
Entering the parlor, Diana discovered that Harlan, who sat on the divan with a blanket thrown over his legs, was playing whist with Farnsworth and two of the British officers. Upon seeing Diana, the soldiers rose to their feet and Farnsworth took the tray from her, placing it on the sideboard.
“Ah, that bread smells delicious,” a junior officer known as Smythe complimented her. “We could smell it in here.”
“Help yourselves, gentlemen.” Diana waited until the three soldiers had taken their bread and tea before serving Harlan. She couldn’t help but notice that Harlan didn’t look well. The lines by his eyes, lines that had once been thin, were now deeply carved into his pasty white skin, and he shook when he took the cup from her. But his smile at her was genuine and belied his ill health. Diana hated to see that Harlan wasn’t getting any stronger. If there was only something she could do for him to make him well again she would, because she literally owed him her life.
“Join us, Mrs. Sheridan,” Samuel Farnsworth insisted as he gallantly poured her a cup of tea. “It isn’t every day we get such luxuries as tea, now that that renegade Francis Marion is plaguing the area. The supply wagon was lucky to get through without being attacked by his rebel band.”
Diana took a seat near Harlan and sipped her tea, a look of total innocence on her face. “This Marion, isn’t
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