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"Honestly," Edward said, crunching a piece with a decided lack of tableyou’ve ever tasted?"

"The finest?" she asked doubtfully

He waved this off "It’s bacon How can anything in the world see philosophy"

He gave her a cheeky grin "It’s working for ave in to his humor and reached for a piece of her own If bacon truly equaled happiness, as she to argue?

"You know," she said with a partially full mouth (If he could dispense with proper table manners, then by heaven, so could she) "This actually isn’t very good bacon"

"But you feel better, don’t you?"

Cecilia stopped chewing, tilted her head to the side, and considered this "You’re right," she had to admit

Again with the ienerally ah their breakfast, she kneasn’t the bacon that washer happy, it was the man across the table

If only he was truly hers

Chapter 13

I nor my own, but as it has been several weeks since we last heard froin ahowBut I assueful of conte

--from Thomas Harcourt to his sister Cecilia

Haarlem was exactly what Edward had expected

The infirmary was just as rudimentary as Major Wilkins had warned, but thankfully most of the beds were vacant As it was, Cecilia had been visibly horrified at the conditions

It had taken soe, and then h the records, but as Wilkins had predicted, there was no mention of Thomas Harcourt Cecilia had wondered if perhaps soed in, and Edward couldn’t really blaeneral level of cleanliness did not inspire confidence in the infir the British Ar The list of patients was just about the only thing in the infiranized in precise rows, and each name was accompanied by rank, date of arrival, date and type of departure, and a brief description of the injury or illness As a result, they no that Private Roger Gunnerly of Cornwall had recovered froh, and Private Henry Witherwax of Manchester had perished of a gunshot wound to the abdo day The roads froe they’d procured wasn’t much better, but after a hearty supper at the Fraunces Tavern, they were both feeling restored The day had been considerably less huht breeze carrying the salty tang of the sea, so they took the long way back to the Devil’s Head, walking slowly through the e streets at the bottom of Manhattan Island Cecilia had her hand tucked in the crook of Edward’s elbow, and even though they maintained a proper distance fro them closer

If they were not so far from home, if they were not in the

They walked in silence along the water, watching the seagulls dive for the fish, and then Cecilia said, "I wish--"

But she didn’t finish

"You wish for what?" Edward asked

It took her a moment to speak, and when she did, it ith a slow, sad shake of her head "I wish I knehen to give up"

He knehat he was supposed to do If he were playing a role on the stage or starring in a heroic novel, he would tell her that they ive up, that their hearts , and they must search for Tho to lie to her, and he wasn’t going to offer false hope, and so he just said, "I don’t know"

As if by silent agreeentle stop and stood side by side, staring out over the water in the fading light of the day

Cecilia was the first to speak "You think he’s dead, don’t you?"

"I think" He didn’t want to say it, hadn’t even wanted to think it "I think he is probably dead, yes"

She nodded, with eyes that were filled with nation than sorroondered why that was so

"I wonder if it would be easier," she said, "knowing for sure"

"I don’t know The loss of hope versus the certainty of truth It’s not an easy judgher eyes off the horizon Finally, just when Edward thought she iven up on the conversation, she said, "I think I would rather know"

He nodded even though she wasn’t looking at hiree"

She turned then "You only think? You are not certain?"