Are you with us?” The words were a distant echo barely penetrating the nightmare that had all but consumed Richard for nearly a week. Had duty not compelled his presence on Long Wharf, he would not have left her. Only his responsibility to his blood and bond had dragged him away. “Sorry, Jack,” he said with a forced laugh. “I took a side trip, there. I’m back now.” He shifted in his chair, aware of Jack Endicott’s eyes upon him. The concern in those eyes was mirrored in those of Caleb Cutler, Agreen Crabtree, George Hunt, Hugh Hardcastle, and Richard’s two sons, Will and Jamie. But he would offer no further explanation—neither to them nor to anyone else. Katherine had sworn him to secrecy. She had begged him to remain silent, and he would honor her plea. “You’re quite certain all is well?” Endicott persisted. “Quite certain. Please continue. You were saying what about our agent in Washington?” Endicott smiled wryly. “I introduced the subject of Mr. Shaw a few minutes ago, Richard.
