Tears flooded my eyes. It’d been such a long time since I’d remembered. I had no idea why it came to me now, but that was the thing about unwanted memories. They were surprise attackers. I drew a deep breath, willing it to go away.

  “Do you think Liesje has chosen well with Devoor?” Lucy asked.

  Charlotte sighed. “They are equally handsome and wealthy. He is from old Dutch stock like her. And she does seem quite in love now.”

  She didn’t need to say the rest. We all knew things could change—and love wasn’t what we expected from marriage or even hoped for, anyhow. We wanted a companion. Someone reliable and respectable, who could provide. Someone we wouldn’t grow to loathe.

  “To think tomorrow the die will be cast,” Lucy said. “Her future, all her life’s happiness, determined by the vow she’ll make. It frightens me—but how I wish for it, too.”

  I felt a pinch in my throat. Kindhearted and pretty as Lucy was, she brought almost nothing to a marriage beyond herself. In our world, that wasn’t enough.

  “I wish I could marry you, Lucy,” Charlotte said.

  That gave us a good giggle, but it wasn’t the first time I’d wondered what Charlotte truly wanted. She could marry at any time, yet she hadn’t. She always seemed more interested in our lives than her own.

  Lucy turned on her side. I could feel her stare on my face. “Tonight at dinner, Mrs. Sedgwick called marriage our ‘dark leap’ because we have no idea what awaits on the other side.”

  I thought of Mama. She’d taken two dark leaps. One had led her to heartbreak, widowhood, and disgrace. The other had led her to harsh treatment and loneliness. And to death, I believed. I missed her so much right then, my chest felt like it was caving in.

  I cleared my throat, finding my voice. “My mother used to tell me marriage was the ‘something more’ I was meant to find in life. It was the last thing she ever said to me.”

  “Oh, Emmie,” Lucy said. “You have never told us about your mother.” She curled against my side.

  To my surprise, so did Charlotte. “You have nothing to worry about, Emmie,” she said. “Duncan is beautiful, charming, wealthy, and well loved.”

  “Is that all?” I joked, though it was true—he appeared to be all of that. He was everything Mama had wanted for me. I found myself smiling in the darkness. I’d never thought fulfilling my promise to her could be so in harmony with what I wanted.

  “No, in fact,” Charlotte said. “There’s more. He has fabulous prospects as André’s aide. He’ll rub elbows with the top men in the army. Probably even with General Clinton himself.”

  I jolt shot through me. I had no idea how I’d missed it. Duncan had a direct line to the very highest sources of information in the British military. But spying was something committed against strangers. Distant acquaintances. Not suitors.

  Was it?

  Long after Lucy and Charlotte fell asleep, I lay awake and wrestled with my conscience. Spying was stealing from the enemy—but what if that enemy was someone decent? Someone with a charming personality, perfect lips, and eyes like pools of honey when they caught the sunlight?

  But this was about the fates of nations. It was about freeing America from a tyrant who wielded power like a hammer. Abuse was wrong—and I wanted to fight it. To spy—to truly do it—there was no room for doubt. I had to march into the danger as boldly as a soldier, heedless of the pain I might cause.

  I couldn’t let anything stop me.

  The following afternoon, Liesje Visser took her dark leap at the North Dutch Church as rain fell steadily outside. When she and Casper Devoor exchanged vows, my eyes drifted across the church to Lieutenant Duncan, a few rows to my right.

  He looked over sharply, as though I’d called his name.

  I turned away and fought a smile, a velvety heat spreading through me. One thing I couldn’t deny: my body knew exactly how it felt about Lieutenant Duncan.

  After the ceremony, we returned to the Vissers’ for the celebration assembly. I gazed across their grand parlor, feeling like a hunter as I scanned the room for Major André or Lieutenant Duncan. I loved it, this thrill of the search. The rush of a dive. I’d been asleep for three years. I’d been holding my breath. Now, finally, I was awake and breathing again.

  As the wedding couple began the first minuet, Judge Latimer leaned down to my ear. “I understand I’ve been set aside for tonight. I hope your young lieutenant is worth the bruise to this old man’s heart.”

  I smiled. “You could never be set aside.” The judge was my usual dance partner. My first one, when I arrived in New York. I’d been so scared then. I’d tripped over both my feet and his, but he’d guided me through it, never questioning my gracelessness. For months, till I found my dancing feet, I had only partnered with him or Uncle Henry. “I’ll save a dance for you.”

  “Will you? I shall try to wait patiently. Duncan seems a fine lad. Major André is certainly very high on him, and André is quite the rising star.” There was something gritty in his voice, but just as I noticed it, his gaze was pulled to the dance floor. “Ah, look. Some fearsome brigands have arrived to spoil the party.”

  The “fearsome brigands” were actually the groomsmen, who flowed into the parlor wearing black breeches and cloaks with hoods pulled low over their faces. A few wore swords at their hips. They played their part comically, stalking and creeping toward Liesje and Devoor like bandits.

  “Get her!” they shouted suddenly. “Steal the bride! Kidnap the bride!” They rushed the final steps to the dancing couple, then, with the courteousness of true gentlemen, offered Liesje an arm and shepherded her from the parlor.

  The judge let out a weary sigh. “Youth.”

  “What was that?” Even now, there were customs I wasn’t familiar with.

  “Wedding games. Steal the Bride, in this case. Sometimes the groom pretends to run off before the ceremony as well and has to be hauled back, but I think young Devoor was too nervous for that with this rowdy lot. Typically the assembly chases after the bride to rescue her, as it were, but with the rain soaking the roads I’m told only the wedding party is going.”

  That was just what we did. Minutes later, Charlotte, Lucy, and I piled into waiting carriages with the rest of the bridesmaids and the groom.

  “I told you Liesje would spare nothing,” Charlotte said excitedly as she accepted wine from a servant. Through the open carriage door, I could see guests crowded in the glowing windows of the Vissers’ grand home, smiling and waving at us.

  Devoor climbed into our carriage and we were off, rollicking through the rainy night.

  “How do we rescue her?” I asked. “Do we need muskets? Spados?” The Spanish word for “swords” slipped right through, like a hiccup from my mind. The entire thing was stoking the fires of my imagination and I was ready for an adventure.

  “Goodness, no,” Charlotte said. “We will simply drink champagne and toast the wedding couple—and hearty cheers to you, Devoor.” She took a sip.

  Liesje’s new husband plucked the glass from her hand. “I thank you, Miss Winters. Cheers to myself.” He tipped it back, draining the rest.

  I wanted more than cheers. I wanted peril and daring deeds. And champagne.

  Soon we arrived at a cozy tavern with a door left open to the rainy night. Chatter and music poured out and only grew louder as we entered.

  Inside, we found the bride thieves surrounding Liesje, who sat smiling and talking happily under their doting attention. Some of the other wedding guests had come from the Vissers’, crowding the little tavern, and I spotted Lieutenant Duncan right away. Just as earlier, his gaze hit me with a delicious warmth.

  Casper Devoor strode right to Liesje, pulling her into a long embrace that raised a chorus of cheers.

  “Oh my,” Lucy said. “I think Liesje was just rescued.”

  Charlotte and I looked at each other and laughed.

  We entered the fray holding our wineglasses high, my panniers squeezing and swinging in the tight press of bodies. Lucy and Charlotte stopped to talk with Rebecca, but I headed for Major André. By some miracle, a chair sat unclaimed beside him. I slid into it and found him in conversation with General Knyphausen, the Hessians’ most elevated commander. Knyphausen reminded me of Captain Jansen, due to the way he held his head slightly turned to one side on account of having a blind eye. Three years ago, in gratitude for his efforts in helping seize New York from General Washington’s army, the British had renamed Fort Washington after him. Another man was in the conversation as well—a civilian who was sweating terribly and whose jowls shook as he spoke.

  “Ah, Miss Coates,” André said, breaking away for a moment to greet me. “My muse.”

  “Here to inspire, Major.”

  “As ever.” We spoke for a little while about the production of Macbeth he was staging at the Royal Theater; then he gracefully made his way back to the conversation he’d set aside for me.

  The topic was the court martial trial against the American general Benedict Arnold, who’d been accused of using public items, like provision wagons, for his private gain. The trial had been all over the newspapers for weeks, though, so it hardly counted as secret knowledge. My attention shifted to Major André’s aristocratic profile. For the first time, I saw him as an adversary, truly connected to the atrocity of Wallabout Bay and Asa Lane’s impressment, the blockades, the unfair taxes. Connected to everything else that I believed unjust. And yet I was still fond of him.

  Love thine enemy, the Bible taught. I’d never understood that till now.

  “Be scarce, Grupe,” Lieutenant Duncan said, tapping the man in the chair beside me on the shoulder. Like that, the man left and Duncan took his place.

  “Miss Coates, I don’t expect your forgiveness,” he said immediately. “But if you would allow me to, I would like to explain yesterday’s debacle by the river.”

  “Certainly,” I said. With his brow furrowed in concentration and his posture straight, he looked very martial. Tense. “And good evening, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes—forgive me. I should’ve said that first.”

  “Fortunately, there’s still time,” I replied, my voice high. My breath had run away from me. Duncan’s thigh was resting against mine, a solid and distracting presence.

  “Is there?” A smile fought its way to his lips. “Good evening, Miss Coates. How do you do?”

  “Quite well, sir. And improving by the moment. I am ready for your explanation.”

  “And now I don’t want to give it.”

  “Alas, we have already entered into a contract.”

  “Have we? Very well.” He hesitated, then bowed his head to mine, bringing his lips close to my ear. “Will you allow me this nearness? ’Tis very loud in here and I would prefer not to shout my apology.”

  I fought a shiver. His voice had melted half of me. I nodded.

  “Thank you….Now, where to begin?” he said, his tone losing its formality. “Some time ago, I was told of how you lost your father and became a ward of the doctor’s.”

  I looked up. “You heard gossip about me?”

  “No—certainly not. I’d never allow it. Major André shared your story with me, trusting in my character to be respectful of it and knowing of my past. You see, Miss Coates, I lost my father at sea as well.

  “ ’Twas a year ago. He was on an East Indiaman bound for Bombay when it struck a rock and wrecked. His body was never recovered. Not as harrowing as what you experienced, I imagine, but it haunts me knowing he is out there. Never properly laid to rest. ’Tis a feeling no one can understand…unless they have been through it.

  “So when your uncle began a discussion of possible…possibilities, my interest to meet you was piqued. I admit, I came to Ranelagh Gardens more out of curiosity than anything else. But after we talked, I became very eager to see you again, inheritances and sad stories aside. The mistake I made was in letting that slip. My friends were quick to want to help, and that is how the ordeal by the river came to be. So now that I have…that I’ve— I’m sorry, Miss Coates. Pardon me a moment.” His eyes flicked up to the man standing behind me.

  It was the sweaty-faced man who’d been with André and Knyphausen. Both of them had wandered off, and the sweaty man now spoke to an officer I didn’t know. He reeked of drink and swayed so badly his hip kept bumping the back of my chair.

  “He calls himself ‘Monk,’ ” he snoached, in a high-pitched voice like a trumpet. “Though God only knows why—he couldn’t be farther from it!”

  “Rattoon,” Duncan interrupted. “Have some discretion, sir. This is hardly the place.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” he replied, and hoisted his wine. “No need to worry.”

  Duncan turned back to me, but it was a moment before I felt his attention again. “So here we are, Miss Coates. I have burdened you with my tragedy, but I wanted you to know I never intended to create any awkwardness. I believe I fell victim to…”

  “To what, Lieutenant?”

  “To feeling a great deal of hope.”

  The room seemed to fall away. I felt exactly that myself. Hope. I noticed the depth in his eyes. He’d known pain—true pain. The orphan in me, the part of me that always felt alone, yearned to reach for him. I swallowed. “I am very sorry about your father, Lieutenant. I do understand how it feels to miss a beloved parent. I believe your father is very much resting in peace. How could he not be, having the love of such a devoted son? And I thank you for explaining the commotion yesterday, but I now feel it quite a worthwhile thing to have endured.”

  He said nothing for long seconds, just stared at me unblinking, but I felt our connection strengthening. “Have I still a chance, then?”

  “A chance?”

  “Of dancing with you.”

  “Oh, that.” I smiled. “Yes. But it is only a slight chance.”

  He laughed. “I shan’t lose it—but I hope it will keep for another day. I must go to Fort George tonight. There’s rebel action near Paulus Hook, and it appears I am useful enough to be needed.

  “ ’Tis a bit dark in here, Miss Coates, but can that be disappointment I see?”

  It was, absolutely, but I had a little pride. “Lieutenant, I daresay your departure will disappoint everyone. Our minuet has become quite an anticipated moment.”

  “That is a problem. I may be away a few days, but when I—” His smile vanished and his gaze flicked up.

  I awoke from some spell I’d been under and found myself gazing at him like a smitten girl. Then I heard that shrill voice again, every word sailing into my ears like arrows.

  “Ten thousand pounds, he’s asking,” said the sweating man behind me. “For that, he’s got to offer Clinton something useful, else what good is—”

  Duncan thrust to his feet and threw his arm around the man’s neck. “Excuse me,” he said to me tightly. Then he hauled the man away as one would a drunk friend—almost. There was veiled aggression in Duncan’s movements. He strode powerfully, and even through his red coat I could see the rigid muscles in his arms. In a matter of seconds, he cut a path through the crowded tavern and pushed the man out into the rain.

  I sat in a stupor for long seconds after they disappeared outside, the noise of laughter and celebration swirling around me.

  I knew what I had to do.

  Now.

  I stood and crossed the crowded tavern to the door, my heart thundering. Cool air washed over me as I stepped outside. The rain had lessened to a drizzle, but water ran from the eaves and gurgled in a nearby creek, filling the night with sound. The chariot drivers awaited us by a barn in the distance, the smoke of their pipes rising into the darkness. Duncan’s voice came from the other direction, around the tavern. Angry, but still controlled.

  I crept closer, choosing my footsteps with care, till I was almost at the corner and could hear him perfectly.

  “Why is it so difficult for you to comprehend ‘confidential’?”

  “I was being confidential!” replied the nasal man. “I called him ‘Monk’! Who’ll ever guess anything from that?”

  “Fool.” There was a grunt. The sound of a body thudding against brick. “Speak another word about any of this and it won’t be punishment you suffer, Rattoon. I’ll have your life. Are we in understanding?”

  A wheezing cough. “Yes! Bloody hell, Lieutenant. My head!”

  “Your head is indeed a problem. Be gone—and never let me see you this drunk again.”

  I scurried back, hurrying for the tavern door.

  Halfway there, I knew I’d cut it too close.

  I whirled just as Duncan rounded the corner and stepped into view. He looked up, his eyes tight with fury, then wide with surprise. “Miss Coates. What are you doing out here?”

  “You left without saying goodbye and I—I wanted to say goodbye.” I looked up, wincing. “I didn’t expect it to still be raining, though.” I looked at my slippers. “Or so muddy.”

  Duncan rushed over and offered his arm, his gallantry instinctive, just as I’d hoped. He drew me under the eaves, and right in time as the rain picked up. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Not as long as you. You’re soaked.”

  “I had to deal with something.” He looked toward where he’d been with Rattoon.

  My hand was still on his arm. I tugged him toward me. “Your coat. You’re getting wet.”

  “Shall we go inside?” he asked.

  “Or just…come closer.” I drew him in till he was only inches away. He looked down at my petticoats pooling around his legs. Then his eyes lifted to mine and I knew, without a shred of doubt, that I was now the sole object of his thoughts. “Must you really go soon?”

  My entire body felt energized. Terrified by him. Drawn to him. The grittiness I’d just witnessed only made him more appealing. Less like every other pampered dandy.