‘Thank God.’ He kissed me again, then said, ‘I got your message.’
‘Both of them?’ I knew about the bottle-mail, but wasn’t sure about the email.
‘Both. You should take up calligraphy. That note was a work of art.’
‘For a beginner,’ I said, leaning back so I could look him in the eyes. ‘Amy’s back now, thank goodness. Problem solved.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘So she’s no longer in any danger?’
‘She and her husband talked it out. I think she’s safe, at least until Drew figures out that she’s not going to go along with his plan. But that won’t happen, if it happens at all, until Amy leaves Patriot House. Till then?’ I shrugged. ‘What could be safer than a house full of people where cameras are rolling practically twenty-four seven?’ I looped my arm through his, and urged him along the sidewalk back toward the water: Mr and Mrs Colonial Annapolis on an afternoon stroll.
‘What about the fugitive, Drew Whats-his-name?’
‘Cornell. Outside of Amy and Drew, nobody knows that Drew is alive except you and me, and Amy doesn’t know about you.’
‘Don’t you think you should turn him in?’
‘I’ve never laid eyes on him, Paul. He’s like a phantom. But then, that’s what SEALs are trained to be. Shadows. Besides, who would believe me? I have no proof. The only proof would be the man himself, or his body, and Drew Cornell is making himself scarce.’
‘Amy?’
‘Maybe, although I think she figures Drew is entitled to the money after the hell he’s been through.’
The sun beat down hotly on my bonnet. I shifted the parasol to better shade my face, then reached for my fan. ‘Is it hot, or is it just me?’
A look of concern crossed his face. ‘Is it too soon for you to be out? We don’t need any relapses here.’
I smiled up at him. ‘I was on my way to Starbucks when I was – how shall I say? – interrupted.’
‘How about some water?’ Paul reached inside his coat and came out holding a bottle of Deer Park spring water. He twisted off the cap and handed the bottle to me.
I took an unladylike swig. ‘Ooooh, that tastes good,’ I said, dabbing at my lips with the back of my gloved hand. With the parasol and the fan, the bottle would require three hands, so I gave it back to him. ‘Where did you get that fabulous costume, Paul?’
‘I borrowed it from the Masqueraders’ costume room,’ he said. ‘School for Scandal opens in a couple of weeks. I think this outfit properly belongs to Sir Benjamin Backbite, but it fit, and the director is a colleague of mine, so there you have it.’
‘Is some midshipman running around the stage in his skivvies?’
Paul laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it back in plenty of time for the dress rehearsal.’
As the flames of the burning vessel died down, the wind fanned the embers, sending sparks spiraling up into the sky. Spectators began to drift away, to the bars, to the restaurants and to the souvenir vendors that were waiting to separate them from their money.
‘Walk me home, will you, Paul?’ I suddenly felt drained, weary. Maybe I had ventured out a little too soon.
‘Do we need to get permission from Founding Father first?’ he asked, taking my arm.
I shook my head. ‘We’ve been surprisingly free to wander today, although they have beefed up their film crew.’ I pointed my parasol at Chad. ‘Exhibit A, or maybe B. Maybe he’ll get tired of following us. Find other fish to fry.’
A few minutes later we did, in fact, lose Chad. I had steered Paul purposefully toward the canopy where I’d last seen Karen and Dex. There, in the space the VIPs had vacated, we found Gabe and Dex kneeling on the ground, playing a game of marbles. Irresistibly cute and quintessentially mediagenic. One look at the kids and Chad was a goner.
Paul escorted me up Prince George Street where we stopped at the Paca House gate. A security guard dressed in the red and white uniform of the Maryland Militia was guarding the door. ‘Your house, I believe, madam. Mine is just up the street.’ He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Of course I am, Paul. It was only the flu. I just need a little rest. Probably tried to overdo it.’ I touched his cheek.
‘Will you email me again?’
I whipped off my hat and shook out my curls. ‘Can’t. Amy’s iPhone went AWOL.’
‘Ah, that explains why you didn’t answer. But I did leave you a message in the bottle.’
‘You did? When?’
‘Just before climbing into this get-up and going downtown to meet you.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Aside from arranging to communicate with you through the proprietors of Maryland Table at the Market House, not much. Just a little something of my own. I call it “Heart Foam.” I shall not publish it,’ he said, quoting from a favorite Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, Patience.
‘I set everything up with Maryland Table just like you asked in your note,’ Paul continued. ‘Kyle was happy to cooperate.’ He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a tiny blue notebook decorated with white stars. Strapped to it with a rubber band was a ballpoint pen about three inches long. He pressed them into my hand. ‘Here, make it easy on yourself.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, tucking the notebook into my pocket. ‘And you can do another something for me in the not-so-according-to-my-contract department.’
‘What would that be?’
‘Go to CVS or Walgreens and buy some lipstick, eyeliner and blush. As small as they come. Then go to the travel section where they’ve got those sample-sized bottles of shampoo? Get a couple of those. Oh, and deodorant. And toothpaste…’
Paul held up a hand, palm out. ‘Whoa. I’m going to have to take notes.’
I grinned. ‘It doesn’t really matter. Wrap them up in brown paper and string, and leave them with Kyle at the market.’
‘Got it, but what for?’
‘If I need to get a message to you, and I can’t get to the market, I’ll send Melody. It’s just a little incentive for the wee lassie. Am I brilliant, or what?’
He stroked my cheek with the back of his index finger. ‘I miss you, Hannah Ives.’
‘And I miss you, too.’
‘Aside from the flu, are you having fun yet?’
‘I think so. But I’ll be glad when it’s over, and I can sit on the sofa with you and watch the whole thing from the other side of the camera.’
He kissed me sweetly on the mouth, then said, ‘It’s a date.’
With one eye on the guard, I asked, ‘Do you want to come in for a minute?’
‘Tempting, but I’ve got a department head meeting in thirty minutes. I could attend in all my sartorial splendor, but I think I’d better shower and change.’
‘Shower? Hot water, too? My God, you do know how to torture a gal.’ I planted a kiss on his cheek, then turned and scampered up the stairs. When I reached the front door, I wheeled about and waved.
Paul swooped off his hat, placed it against his chest and bowed deeply. I laughed out loud. It was all too Georgette Heyer for words.
NINETEEN
‘I don’t have a problem with having servants. If they weren’t serving us, they wouldn’t have a job.’
Jack Donovan, Patriot
The servants had been given the day off, so except for the security guard there appeared to be nobody in the house but me.
In full view of the SelectoZoomMini mounted on the back wall, I made a leisurely show of dropping my hat, kicking off my shoes, and peeling off my stockings, leaving them in an untidy heap on the floor. Then I wandered into the garden in my bare feet.
The stones were hot, so I took to the lawn, descending the terraces one by one until I reached the pond. Extending my arms like a tightrope walker, I teetered playfully along the bricks that lined the canal that carried water from a natural spring into the pond, one foot ahead of the other, gripping the stones with my toes.