A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(84)
Author: Tessa Dare

“Well, let’s see what Lord Rycliff has to say about it, shall we?”

The pair entered the smithy, and Bram’s jaw dropped.

“I tried to stop her,” Thorne said, throwing a gesture of disgust.

Her?

Her. Yes, of course. He recognized her easily by the port-wine birthmark at her temple. But in every other respect, Miss Kate Taylor was dressed the part of a drummer boy. With her petite height and her light, slender figure, she easily fit the militia uniform.

“What are you doing?” Bram asked. He waved at the red coat and buff breeches. “Whose are these?”

“Finn’s, of course,” she said. “I’m him today. You need a drummer, and I’m the only one who can stand in.”

“Miss Taylor, I can’t ask you to—”

“You haven’t asked me. I’ve offered.”

Thorne caught Bram’s eye. The man steeled his jaw. “No,” he said. “You can’t allow it.”

For more than five years, Thorne had served under Bram’s leadership. He’d been not only Bram’s right hand, but his right leg, when he’d needed one. And never—not once, in those five years of drilling, marching, digging, and fighting—had Thorne so much as hesitated to obey Bram’s smallest command. He’d certainly never issued one of his own.

Until today.

“We’re wasting time here,” Miss Taylor said, earnestly approaching him. “We have only a few hours to prepare for the drill, and you must let me join you. Unlike the other ladies here, I have no family, no guardian. Spindle Cove is my only home, and I want to help in any way I can. I didn’t do this for nothing.”

With a dramatic sweep, she doffed her tall, black shako headgear to reveal her hair. Or the lack of it. The girl had clipped her chestnut-brown locks to collar length, and pinned them back to imitate a boyish crop.

“Christ Almighty,” Thorne muttered. “What have you done to yourself?”

Miss Taylor touched a fingertip to her earlobe and bravely blinked tears from her eyes. “It will grow back. It’s only hair.”

It’s only hair.

Bram’s heart pinched in his chest. She reminded him so much of Susanna that day on the green, bravely offering her long, lovely hair if it meant keeping Finn and Rufus off the volunteer rolls. If only he’d listened to her.

Where was she? He was growing desperate to see her.

“Lord Rycliff,” Miss Taylor said, “there are others, too. Everyone’s gathered at the Bull and Blossom.”

“The Bull and Blossom?”

“The tea shop,” she explained. “And tavern. Since it’s both now, the Fosburys made a new sign. Anyhow, what with the goings-on at Summerfield, we thought it best to move tonight’s party there. And most of the village has assembled this morning. Everyone’s waiting on your command.”

“It’s really not necessary,” Bram said, halfheartedly.

“Perhaps not,” said Aaron Dawes. “But maybe we want to see it through anyway.”

What an idea. To go forward with this militia review and grand party today, not for Sir Lewis’s pride or for Bram’s—but for Spindle Cove’s.

“We’ve all worked so hard, and looked so forward to today. We want to do it for ourselves, and for Finn. And for you, Lord Rycliff.” Miss Taylor plucked at her sleeve. “Miss Finch said you’d be coming back, and we must be ready to do you proud.”

“Susanna said that?”

“Yes.” The girl clasped her hands in delight. “Oh, Lord Rycliff. I just knew the two of you were in love. I knew you couldn’t leave her.” She bounced on her toes. “This is all going to be so very romantic.”

“With all that cooing, no one will take you for a boy,” Bram said, chuckling. Truthfully, he was trying not to bounce on his own toes with excitement. “Where is she now?”

“She’s gone home to have a rest and a change of dress, but she promised to meet us at the castle.”

Straightening his coat and running his hands over his hair, Bram looked to the other men. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

“Where is she?” Hours later, Bram stood impatient at the castle gateway, scanning the path for any sign of Susanna. All morning long, folk had streamed up the ancient road, traveling by cart, on horseback, on foot—some coming from ten or more miles away to watch the review. But none of them were the one woman Bram wanted to see.

“Most likely she fell asleep,” Thorne said. “She worked hard all night.”

“Perhaps I should ride down to Summerfield.”

“I’ve already stalled for time as much as I can,” Colin said. “If it were just a matter of the crowd, I’d say hold off. But generals and dukes aren’t used to being kept waiting. And perhaps Miss Finch needs her rest.”

Bram nodded his reluctant acknowledgment. The review itself wouldn’t take long. If Susanna hadn’t arrived by the end, he’d ride over to Summerfield straightaway.

Striding to the center of the green, he motioned for his men to fall in line. He surveyed them with no small measure of pride—his cadre of willing volunteers, all fitted out in their new uniforms and assembled to serve his command. What a band they were. Shepherds, fishermen, clergymen. A smith, a baker—no candlestick maker, but a boy, a young woman . . .

And a lamb. Dinner stood at his knee, tricked out in a jaunty red ribbon and bell.

Make no mistake, this was Spindle Cove.

Under festooned canopies, the visiting dignitaries and the ladies of the Queen’s Ruby sat ready to observe. The assembled villagers and country folk lined the castle’s perimeter. Children too short to see over the crowd had climbed atop the walls. Gaily colored banners flew from each turret.

With everyone in place, Bram mounted his horse and addressed his men. And woman. “I want you all to remember, we’re not alone when we take to the field. There are others counting on us to succeed. All the ladies of the Queen’s Ruby. Finn. And Miss Finch. Their faith in us—it’s sewn into the linings of our coats, rolled into every powder cartridge. And it’s in every beat of our hearts. We will not let them down.”

He looked from one solemn, determined face to the other, making eye contact with every last one of his men. To Miss Taylor, he gave a smile.

“Vicar, say us a blessing, if you will.” Bowing his head, he muttered, “We’re going to need it.”