“Thank you, Miss CC.”

“Good night, Anna. Get some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure I’ll be fit as a fiddle in the morning. Good night.”

CC smiled to herself as she considered how perfectly everything was going. She had worried that she would have difficulty sneaking out of the house undetected at this late hour, but her father’s unexpected imperative business meeting and now Anna’s illness had rendered her escape a most easy matter.

Conquering her stubborn buttons, CC slipped out of her gown and quickly shed her petticoats and chemise before moving to the bed to untie the parcel she’d retrieved from her armoire. With eager hands, she pulled on the wrinkled, dark-colored boy’s clothing, buttoning the loose-fitting shirt over her full breasts and tucking it into the waistband of the knee breeches. White stockings and heavier, low-heeled boy’s shoes were donned, along with a baggy, nondescript vest to camouflage the swell of her bosom. Anxious to be gone, CC moved quickly to the mirror to pin her heavy mane up. That done, she snatched up the tricorn that completed her disguise and carefully anchored it on her head.

A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that any resemblance between her current self and young Miss Cecelia Demorest was remote. The breeches were skintight, as the young boys wore them, hugging her hips and thighs revealingly, but the baggy shirt and overlong vest helped to conceal her more feminine curves. She felt a sense of freedom whenever she wore her boyish garb, and she took secret delight in these times when she got to carry out her masquerade.

Though she knew she was being outrageously daring every time she ventured into town so disguised, she also knew that there was nothing more important in her life than being involved in the movement to rid the colonies of the hated British domination. It was necessary for her to pretend to be a lad in order to move about the city unobserved. A woman traveling alone at this time of night would draw undue attention to herself, but the sight of a boy walking the streets after dark was not uncommon.

Satisfied that even her father would have trouble identifying her should they meet on the dark Boston streets, she straightened her room and arranged her pillows under the covers on her bed to resemble a sleeping body, just in case someone decided to come checking on her. After unlocking the bedroom window that opened nearest the massive oak tree, CC took one last surveying glance around the chamber to be certain that all was set to rights, and then climbed nimbly out into the tree’s thick, supportive branches.

Though he had spent the entire day on board the Lorelei going over the ledgers and manifests with Lyle, Noah was not particularly tired as he retired to his room that night. If anything, he felt strangely tense, as if a huge spring were coiled deep within him. Accustomed to being in complete control of himself, he found the stress annoying. Still, he knew the cause. It had been two days and he had not yet heard from Joshua Smith. He was certain that the rebel would contact him eventually, but that knowledge didn’t make the waiting any easier.

Restlessly he moved to the washstand, poured a bowl of water, and then began to strip off his shirt. Bared to the waist, he idly rubbed the taut muscles in his neck, wishing that the inn boasted whiskey of the same caliber as he’d had at Demorest’s home the night before. Certainly a glass of the smooth, strong liquor would help to settle the unusual uneasiness that gripped him.

The memory of the evening at Demorest’s brought a fleeting thought of Edward’s daughter, CC, and Noah grimaced. Lovely though she was, her profession of disliking him even before they’d met had done nothing to endear her to him. Not that it mattered, of course, for he had no intention of becoming involved with any woman. Still, it had been a most amusing scene when she’d turned to find him standing behind her in the hall. A slight smile curved the grim line of his mouth as he remembered her startled expression and the becoming blush that had stained her cheeks upon his most gallant introduction. Certainly, since she’d promised her father to do her best to “make him feel welcome,” the ball Friday night did promise some amusement.

The knock at Noah’s door interrupted his thoughts, and thinking that it was probably Polly, he did not bother to pull on his shirt as he strode forth to open it. The sight of a tall stranger standing impatiently in the deep shadows of the hall, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, took him by surprise.

“Kincade?”

“I’m Lord Kincade,” he replied, regarding him levelly.

“I’m Joshua Smith.” Smith eyed the half-dressed Englishman skeptically. He had no use for these fancy aristocrats, and he took an immediate dislike to this one.

“Mr. Smith…please come in.” Noah held the door wide and then closed it securely behind him. “Have you come with an answer for me?” he asked quickly as he snatched up his shirt and began to dress.

“There are a few matters we have to discuss before we get to that,” Smith answered obliquely, waiting until he had Noah’s complete attention before bluntly speaking his mind.

“Didn’t Captain Russell tell you everything?” Noah was immediately on the defensive.

“He told me some.”

“And?”

“And we don’t trust your kind, Kincade. Might as well get that out in the open right now.”

“I see.” Noah’s tone was icy. “What is it that you feel you need to clear up about me?”

“I’ve cleared up a lot on my own, but what I haven’t been able to find out is exactly why you’re interested in selling to us and not the government. It seems rather odd to me that a nobleman like yourself would be willing to turn your back on your own kind.”

Noah’s gaze turned steely as the man’s question touched a nerve, and he replied with cold precision, “Why I’m doing this is none of your business. Either you are interested in what I have to sell or you’re not. And if you’re not, I’m certain there are others who would be more than willing to pay my price. It’s that simple.”

They stood glaring at each other for a long moment, measuring one another’s worth.

After weighing all he knew, Smith gave an abrupt nod. “The meeting’s tonight. We have to leave now.”

Noah nodded tersely, not revealing any weakness to the rebel. The last thing he’d wanted was a discussion of his motives or a disclosure of his more recent past. It was private. Something he would never discuss again. “Fine, I’ll-”

A sharp rap on his door cut him off.

“Noah?” Matt called out.

“Who is it?” Smith’s tone was angry.

“My brother.”

“Russell didn’t say anything about you having a brother. Get rid of him.”

Noah partially opened the door to speak to Matt. “What is it?”

“I thought I heard voices, and I thought something might be wrong…”

“There’s nothing wrong, Matt,” he dismissed curtly. “Just business.”

“I see.” He knew that he had heard voices, and he now understood exactly what was transpiring. The rebel contact…

“I’m going out,” Noah informed him in a tone that brooked no response. “I’m not sure when I’ll return.”

“I’ll be up,” he answered. Though he did not approve of his brother’s plan of action, he wanted to know exactly what was going on.

When Noah turned back to Smith, the colonist was watching him with narrowed eyes. “How much does he know?”

“Only the business end of the deal. Nothing else. There’s no need for him to be involved.”

He studied the nobleman for a long moment. “Get ready. We have to go. And wear something dark. We don’t want anybody taking notice of you when we’re in the back streets.”

Noah pulled on his dark coat and quickly followed Smith from the room.

John Robinson was waiting for CC several blocks from her house, and they started on the trek to the Green Dragon Inn together, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast lest they run into someone they knew.