Taking Liberties by Diana Norman Read Free Book Online

stepmother’s approval. ‘Diplomatic channels, that’s the ticket. They won’t stop those. I’ll get young Ffoulkes to contact Ben and set up a lazy . . . what is it?’
    â€˜Laissez-passer.’
    â€˜One of them. Get him back under a flag of truce. We’ll have him home quicker’n Hell scorches feathers.’
    While she elaborated on the matter, he turned back to the mail and saw that in their haste they’d overlooked the letter from New York.
    Wordlessly, he held it out and she snatched it from him.
    Of the many surprising facets to Makepeace Hedley, the one Oliver found most incomprehensible, was her relationship with Philippa, her daughter by her first marriage. Early on, when the child was seven years old, Makepeace had allowed Philippa’s American godmother, Susan Brewer, to take the girl home with her to Boston. Philippa hadn’t come back; it seemed she didn’t want to.
    The opening of hostilities between America and Britain had caused a hiatus in news of both Susan and Philippa and this, alongside the fact that most of the fighting was in Massachusetts, had—somewhat late in the day—awakened Makepeace to her daughter’s danger.
    She’d had to be restrained from sailing off across the Atlantic in one of her coaling fleet’s vessels in order to see what was happening for herself. Undoubtedly she would have done, except that word came in time to say that Susan and Philippa had left Boston and were safely settled in British-held New York.
    Oliver watched his stepmother flop onto the oriel sill to read a letter that had, from the look of it, undergone a rough passage. She’d taken off the dreadful tricorn and her hair had escaped from the cap beneath so that the sun turned it into a hazy, auburn frame around her head. He felt a second’s jealousy on behalf of the mother who’d died giving birth to him. Could she have competed in such variety with this woman?
    â€˜Oh, Oliver,’ she said, looking up, ‘they’re coming home. Susan don’t reckon New York to be safe any longer. They’ll be here. Susan sent this by the mail packet but they were going to sail for England right after she wrote, almost immediate.’
    Her pleasure demanded his, yet Oliver thought of the Atlantic, the thousands of miles of sea that had become the battleground of two navies, now to be joined by a third.
    â€˜Um,’ he said.
    â€˜No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, it’s all right. Listen . . . “You will remember Captain Strang and the Lord Percy . . .” ’ She looked up: ‘That’s the frigate brought Susan and me and my first husband to England, a sound craft she is, and Strang’s a fine captain.
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‘ “She sails for London on Friday and Philippa and I with her. The Percy , you will remember, is a dispatch carrier and Captain Strang assures me he has no orders to give battle but will make for England as speedily as may be so that, with God’s mercy, I shall deliver your daughter safely to you in six weeks.” ’
    Makepeace blew out her cheeks. ‘Phew. That’s a relief.’
    Her stepson saw that happy memories of the Lord Percy made the vessel invulnerable as far as she was concerned. ‘Good news, Missus,’ he said. ‘When’s she due?’
    â€˜Most any day.’ Makepeace scanned the last page. ‘Strang’ll drop anchor in the Pool like he did before. Maybe I can go meet . . .’
    She whimpered. Her face bleached so that her freckles looked suddenly green. Oliver took the letter from her hand before it could drop. Beneath a bold, curly signature, ‘Your devoted friend, Susan Brewer’, was a date. ‘March 2, 1778.’
    He met his stepmother’s appalled eyes, went to his knees and held her against him. ‘It don’t mean . . . very well, the letter’s been delayed but in that case perhaps so’s the Percy .