Nancy Whiskey. Laurel Ames

walking, for there was a growing bloodstain on his clean breeches. He was just applying another handkerchief to this when a middle-aged man entered the room and came to shake his hand.

      “Daniel, good to see you. Why the devil are you limping?”

      “Hello, Norton. Our ship was captured by a French privateer. I took a splinter.”

      “God’s death. That was close. Is your brother all right?”

      “Fine. Yourself?” Daniel sat with a grunt, as Norton motioned him to a chair.

      “I had the yellow fever last month,” Norton said as he poured them each a brandy from the decanter on his desk. He handed a crystal goblet to Daniel. “Not a bad case by all accounts, but it nearly did me in. Tell me what is going forward in England.” Norton pulled his desk chair around to face Daniel.

      “Little of interest to us, and except for a certain street in London, little climate for inciting rebellion on the American frontier.”

      “You are assuming Britain has some control over the situation. They can no more control Canada at this great distance than they could control us. Witness Dorchester’s inflammatory speech to the Indians.”

      “The English are as surprised by the antics of the Governor General of Canada as we are.” Daniel took a swallow of brandy. “They might not be unhappy if he did manage to incite the tribes to harass us. They will even turn a blind eye to the encroachment of Canadian forts on American soil, but will not, I think, go so far as to declare war.”

      “Not yet, anyway, so long as we are neutral and the balance of trade with us is favorable.”

      “I really think they make more profit off of us now that they bear no responsibility for us.”

      “They certainly do off the shipping they capture and confiscate. That, too, could lead us into war if we are caught between two belligerent sea powers.” Norton glanced at Daniel’s leg. “Have you any unofficial dispatches?”

      “Yes, here. I hope they are worth Trueblood’s swim, but I could not afford to be caught with them.”

      Norton chuckled and plied his letter opener. “You are quite a pair, you and Trueblood. It would be a load off my mind if the British were planning nothing. Then I would have only the Canadians, the French and the Spanish to worry about. We believe they are all causing unrest on the frontier.”

      “Perhaps even Secretary of State Hamilton,” Daniel suggested.

      “Hamilton may be short-sighted, but the money for the war debts must come from somewhere. The whiskey tax is necessary. But is the tax the only cause of unrest? That is the question,” Norton added, breaking the seal on the first dispatch and tossing the paper aside after a quick perusal.

      “The Canadians have always supplied the Indians with weapons. There is no need to further incite them. Watching their land being nibbled away takes care of that.”

      “I see. You empathize with the natives as well. Trueblood’s influence?”

      “No. This was not exactly a Garden of Eden before white men landed. We have merely given the native populations a common enemy.”

      “Or the Canadians have,” Norton said, scanning the next letter and tossing it aside. He rose to pour them each another brandy.

      “Prime Minister Pitt maintains that Britain wants peace.”

      “But what do the Canadians want?” Norton asked as he paced to the window, his frock coat gracefully slapping his thighs. “Simcoe seems a very unstable fellow to me.”

      “The governor of Upper Canada is afraid we’ll encroach on his territory, hence all the forts.”

      “That’s what makes him dangerous.” Norton unrolled a map overtop of the letters. “There is even some talk of a secret agreement between the Canadians and Spanish now that Britain and Spain are allies again. With enough support they could split the country along the Appalachians and all the wealth of the interior would flow right down the river valley and out of American hands.”

      Daniel limped over to the desk. “There may be some temptation there. All the frontiersmen want access to New Orleans, but it will take more support and organization than what I have heretofore seen.”

      “So much for the British and the Spanish.”

      Daniel took a swallow and felt a satisfying burn, along with a numbing of the pain in his leg. “Where do we stand with the French now that they have declared war on England again?”

      “Citizen Genet is causing a stir. The Federalists want nothing to do with him and the Republicans fawn on him.”

      “And you?”

      Norton sat tiredly. “A reserved cordiality. He is, after all, the French ambassador, no matter how flamboyant. Besides, there is more to be learned from a man who does not regard you as an antagonist. Would you like to meet him? I should admire to know what you think of him.” Norton took up his pen with renewed energy.

      “If you can arrange a casual introduction.”

      “Come to dinner here tomorrow at seven o’clock,” the older man said, scratching a note to himself. “Brace yourself to be opportuned to contribute money toward their revolution, seeing as how they gave us so much support.”

      Daniel laughed. “I will come. I am not easily imposed upon.”

      “Too bad you are not married. Two of you will put the numbers out—your brother will be invited, too, of course. But Elise will manage something.”

      “Something? Either a whey-faced chit who spends the whole evening blushing into her plate, or some spinster. I’ll find my own dinner companion, thank you.”

      “Not another actress, Daniel.” Norton looked sharply at him. “You know what happened last time—”

      “No, a lady. She is newly arrived from England. Do not look at me like that. I met her on the way over on the ship.”

      “Of course, Daniel.”

      “Well, she is a lady and will take the shine out of any of the women in this town—except Elise, of course.”

      “I am saying nothing. Bring your paragon, by all means. I would be interested to meet a woman who has not washed her hands of you after knowing you for more than a few weeks.”

      

      Daniel had been busy most of the day obtaining the latest news, while Trueblood tended to their warehouse. Daniel returned with scarcely enough time to wash and change into clean linens and breeches. Someone had laid out his clothes and brushed and pressed his swallowtail coat.

      When Nancy walked down the stairs, Trueblood smiled knowingly and Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. She was dressed in a peach silk gown of the latest fashion, with an ivory underdress edged in lace. A tiny knot of silk roses was tucked between her breasts at the top of her stomacher, and her hair, a natural honey blond, was swept up high on her head, with two long ringlets hanging down in back to caress her neck.

      “Are you disappointed, Daniel?” Trueblood drawled as he took the lace shawl she held and placed it carefully around her shoulders.

      “No, I am quite satisfied,” Daniel said as he took possession of Nancy’s arm and conducted her from the house and down the street, forcing Trueblood to walk on the other side of her.

      “I take it your expectations were that I would turn up in a stuff gown and a pair of brogues.”

      “Now you are making game of me,” Daniel said. “I could wish you would smile rather than scowl at me. It makes you look fatigued.”

      Nancy glared at him, since she had still to drag any real compliment from him. “As it happens, I am fatigued. Father invited home that Canadian, Dupree, and they played cards all night.”

      “Are you sure it was Dupree? Did you see him?”