Petticoat Spy by Carol Warburton

Author:Carol Warburton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction;Romance;War;political;patriot;revolutionary;Love;LDS;Latter-day;Mormon;colonia;1775
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2017-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

After being outside in the fresh air and sunshine, the stuffiness of Aunt Caroline’s bedroom was more noticeable than ever. Since she was sleeping, I pulled back the drapery and opened the window a few inches. A slight breeze carried not only fresh air but also the cheerful song of birds into the room. “There,” I whispered in satisfaction.

As I stood at the window, my frightening encounter with the redcoats jumped back into my mind. With it came the knowledge that Gideon’s freedom had been curtailed. After today, I saw why it was so difficult for him to smuggle out information. But thank heaven he was alive.

Glancing at the bed, I realized that part of the reason for Aunt Caroline’s restlessness while I was gone might be the result of me lessening her dose of laudanum. Though I’d only reduced it by the slimmest amount, her sleep wasn’t as deep or her actions as placid as they’d been three days ago.

I moved restlessly myself. I’d thought my purpose in coming to Boston was finding Gideon and helping the patriots. But in just a week, my path had diverged into two—Gideon and the patriots on one side, helping Aunt Caroline recover on the other.

Hearing a small sound from the bed, I saw that she’d wakened. Her gaze moved to the open window. “Light and air,” she said in a low voice.

“It’s such a lovely day; I wanted you to enjoy it too.”

“Yes.” She lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the brightness.

“Would you like me to close the drapery a little?”

She shook her head and smiled as if she took as much pleasure in fresh air and birdsongs as I.

Sitting down on the chair next to her bed, I took her other hand. As usual, it was cold. I gently rubbed and chaffed it.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re so kind.”

Before I could respond, a soft knock sounded on the door.

“Yes,” I called.

“’Tis Alice with the lunch tray.” As she set it down, her eyes widened at the sight of the open window. For a moment, she looked ready to speak. In the end, she only curtsied and left.

“Mmm,” I said, inhaling the appetizing aroma of the soup. “It smells like Mina’s fixed some of her delicious chicken soup. She and I want to make you well again.” When I unfolded the napkin, I found a second spoon.

Aunt Caroline gave a wan smile. “You’re so kind,” she repeated, but instead of having to be coaxed, she opened her mouth and took a sip of the broth. After the second sip, a knock came again. Before I could respond, a gentleman I’d never seen before entered the room.

Tall, thin, and impeccably dressed in black and white, I felt his dark gaze sweep across my person, then jump to the window. “Who has opened the window?” he demanded.

My hand jerked at the loudness of his voice, and only Providence kept me from spilling the soup. Before I could speak, the man, whom I presumed to be Dr.

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