November–December 1779

“And that’s the key?” Townsend said the following Wednesday. He turned aside and coughed into a kerchief. The poor man. He looked worse than a week ago. “The very one?”

“Yes.” I pushed the key toward him on the counter. It struck me as something from a fairy tale, all pretty swirled silver with a tiny diamond set at the crown. General Knyphausen had to be missing it by now. “The very one.”

Townsend picked it up, studying it like it was a strange insect. “I must say, Miss Coates, you took an exorbitant risk.”

“I know. I know I did.”

“Alas. ’Tis done.” He set the key down. “Do you think Mr. Latimer will go to his uncle with his suspicions?”

“No. I don’t think so.” It sounded so feeble. Truth was, I had no idea what Asa would do. Keeping quiet about my identity was one thing, but spying was treason. I could only hope he still had a scrap of regard for me that would keep him from turning me in. He held my life in his hands. Townsend’s life. Our entire ring of spies. “I can’t believe I took such a terrible risk—only to come away with information about stolen paper.”

I’d decided not to tell Townsend about the clue I’d found regarding Monk. Not yet. I’d learned over the past months that I trusted instinct while Townsend trusted facts. I worried he’d call the connection I’d made thin and try to discourage me. When I brought Monk to him, I’d have evidence that was indisputable.

“Your discovery is far from trifling, Miss Coates. If the British have obtained reams of the very paper we use to print our own currency, they could flood us with counterfeit money, driving down the value. Our starved and disheartened soldiers will be paid in useless dollars—and when soldiers go unpaid, they mutiny. They abandon their posts and return to their families. Warfare by counterfeit is a real problem. We stand no chance on the battlefield if we have no soldiers. Your find was a good one. A very good one indeed.”

I sighed. “Thank you for trying to find a bit of good in the mess I’ve made.”

“Miss Coates, we all commit errors. Please try to forgive yourself and forge ahead. Wasn’t it Virgil who said ‘Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance’?”

My heart skipped at the mention of endurance. “Yes, but Virgil also said ‘The descent into hell is easy.’ ”

Townsend coughed in surprise. I’d sounded coarse; a lady spoke reverently about heaven, not brusquely about hell. I needed to tighten my grip again.

Through the fogged store windows, I saw Malcolm waiting outside, his hands tucked under his arms against the cold. I couldn’t remember the last day we’d had without snow. A group of redcoats strolled past, their regimentals bright against all the wintry white.

“You were right about Duncan,” I said. “He left this morning.” He had come over last night to say goodbye. Alone in the dim entryway, we had kissed. It’d felt like our mouths were discussing something complicated and trying to reach an understanding. After, he’d patted his coat pocket, where he’d tucked the portrait André had sketched of me, which Duncan had asked to take with him. Then he’d whispered sweet things into my ear, telling me he’d always wear it over his heart and that I was the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Miss Coates…,” Townsend said, pulling me back to the present. “What we do…it is very trying and difficult.”

“You understand.”

He nodded. “Yes. One grows weary of dissimulating and spinning lies.”

I was more than weary. Being untrue, inauthentic, deceptive…it was closer to a slow suffocation. I’d thought spying would let me breathe—but lies were lies. Even when they were told for noble reasons. And yet, I wanted more. I needed more. Without the hunt, without Duncan, I had no idea how I’d manage.

The door opened with a burst of frigid air. A group of young gentlemen entered the store, carrying on a loud conversation. My time with Townsend was over till next week.

“Will you send that to Anna Strong for me?” I said, glancing at the key on the counter. It could never go back to General Knyphausen. “It’s pretty enough to wear as a necklace.”

“Of course.” Townsend smiled. “I can think of no one better to have it.”

Outside, I joined Malcolm and we began our trudge home through the snowy streets, leaning into a bitter wind. It was a colder November than anyone could remember. Streams all over Manhattan had frozen over, and the rivers were filling with ice.

“Do you think we’ll get there this year?” I said. My thighs burned from wading through drifts.

“Perhaps after the spring thaw.” Malcolm glanced at me. Beneath his hat, the lobes of his ears were red. “It might help to think of warm things, like a crackling fire.”

I smiled. “Or steam rising from a cup of tea.”

“A hot pie, fresh from the oven.”

“The summer sun, shining through a window.”

We kept going all the way home, talking as we used to before things had become awkward and distant between us. I never stopped smiling.

Sometimes little things could turn an entire day around.

---

Two weeks later, it was still snowing, and Charlotte Winters, my aptly named friend, couldn’t have been happier about it. While most people huddled fireside and bemoaned the icy temperatures, she came to life.

“What a perfect wintry day!” she declared the afternoon of the annual sleigh race at her country farm in Turtle Bay. She stood before five hitched sleighs, stunning in her cardinal cloak. “Has everyone found their seats? Hurry, hurry! The race is about to start!”

We had arrived a short while ago in carriages and separated into two groups. The youngest and bravest had piled into sleigh teams, as instructed by Charlotte. The older set stood on the front porch with hot drinks and red cheeks, waiting to see us off. All except the judge, who had decided to join the youth and sat in the front seat of my sleigh.

“I am already regretting this,” he said to Asa, who’d be driving for us. “Surely I’m meant to be by the fire with a glass of port.”

I shifted under layers of blankets, already regretting this, too. I’d wanted to avoid Asa today, as I’d managed to do since the night at Knyphausen’s. Instead, I was sitting directly behind him.

“You don’t have to come, Uncle,” Asa replied.

“Psh! Nonsense. How often can I adventure with you, mon neveu?”

“It’s time, it’s time!” Charlotte shouted. She climbed into the two-person sleigh she shared with Benjamin Stone and looked right at me, her eyes pleading with me to enjoy myself.

Like everyone, she thought I’d grown sullen over Duncan’s departure. It wasn’t untrue. Since he left, I’d felt aimless and low, but not for the reason she assumed. I hadn’t missed him nearly as much as I’d missed how I felt being with him—daring and purposeful. I waved back at her, putting on what I hoped was a convincing smile.

She beamed. “Let’s race!” she yelled, raising a kerchief in the air. “To the groundskeeper’s cottage! On, set—go!”

Ben Stone snapped the reins. “Walk! Walk on!”

The four other drivers echoed the command. Our sleigh gave a lurch, my back pushed against the seat, and we glided forward to the jangle of sleigh bells. It was such a cheerful sound, and the countryside looked so pretty draped in white, that soon I felt my spirits lifting. I hadn’t enjoyed myself—truly enjoyed myself—in months. Everywhere I’d gone since Liesje’s wedding in August, I’d gone as a spy. But now, shooting through the wintry woods with bells ringing, there was nothing to do but sit back and fly.

“Conspiracy!” shouted William Keyes. “How have I ended up with the plow horse?” Rebecca laughed at his side.

“At least you’ve a horse! I think I got a cow!” Charles Van Pelt called back.

“Follow our tracks!” Ben Stone called. “See you around midnight!”

He and Charlotte took an early lead, but our horses—a pair of beautiful dapple grays—were fast, and Asa drove with daring. Lucy and I held on to each other, giggling from the sheer joy of the trees blurring past.

“My Lord, Asa. Slow down!” the judge cried.

“Faster!” Lucy yelled.

“Much faster!” I shouted. With the wind stinging my cheeks, I almost felt I was back at sea.

“Asa!” yelled the judge. “You will flip this sleigh! You will flip it and what will I tell the Holdridges?”

Asa laughed. “I have it, Uncle! I can win it!”

“Is it worth risking life and limb?”

Lucy and I looked at each other “Yes!” we yelled. “Faster!”

We shot into second but couldn’t compete with Charlotte’s best horse and rig. She and Ben Stone were the first to the groundskeeper’s cottage. We coasted in moments after.

I vaulted from my seat before Asa could hand me down, and we tromped into the cottage’s little parlor, brushing snow from our coats and hats. A warm fire and hot chocolate awaited us. We sipped it from clay mugs and stood around the hearth, thawing our frozen hands.

“What fun that was!” Liesje said.

“Fun?” Judge Latimer shook his head. “I have had fun before—that wasn’t it.”

Asa dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Uncle. My competitive spirit got the better of me.” His hair was coming away from its queue in damp curls, and his cheeks were flushed a healthy red. He looked very much like Asa Lane right then.

“You did nothing wrong, lad, except fail to win.”

“The way back is mine.”

Ben Stone’s eyebrows shot up. “Care to make a wager, Mr. Latimer?”

“Now hold on,” Charlotte said. “We’re not going back yet. First we’re going to the pond for a skate.” She looked through the window. “And we must go now, or we’ll lose the light!”

For this, the judge chose to stay behind. I expected Asa to stay with him, but he joined the group as we headed back outside and walked down a path to the frozen pond.

There, the groundskeeper had skates for anyone who wanted them, but only Ben Stone and two of his friends accepted them. For a little while, as we watched them speed past in races and attempt jumps and turns, I didn’t feel the war at all. Not a scrap of it. It was just laughter and snowy beauty. A window of pure joy. I didn’t see who threw the first snowball, but it didn’t matter. In moments everyone was throwing them.

I ran behind a tree and plunged my gloves into soft powder, packing it into a tight ball. I knew who I wanted to make suffer; I’d been waiting a long time for this. I was going to put a ball of snow right between those deep blue eyes. I peered out, searching for Asa’s black cloak and gray cap.

“That must be for me,” he said behind me.

I threw as I spun. Asa ducked. The snowball struck the back of his head, exploding in a burst of white powder.

“Well thrown,” he said, brushing the powder off his shoulders and scooping it away from his neck.

I laughed. “Thank you.”

“My turn,” he said.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

After that, it was mayhem. Shrieks of laughter. Calls for alliances or for mercy. Everyone participated. Even the skaters came off the pond to join in.

I was digging ice out of my shoe when I heard a male voice holler in pain. I ran to see what had happened, fearing for Asa, but it was Ben Stone who had fallen near the pond.

“My foot!” he said, writhing on his back. “It’s stuck!”

Asa knelt and scooped away the snow. “You broke through a thin layer of ice. Hold still.” He used the blades of a skate to chip away the ice, finally freeing Ben’s foot, but as soon as Ben stood, it was clear he’d injured his ankle. As we headed back to the cottage, his friends had to support him on either side.

Swept up in our antics, we’d lost track of time. The sun had sunk low on the horizon and snow had begun to fall in heavy, silent white waves. I was frozen through. My shoes and gloves soaked. My hair loose, dripping at the ends. I wanted to run to the cottage as fast as I could, but I found myself drifting to the back of the group and drawing even with Asa.

“I’m here under a white flag of truce,” I said.

He looked over, his breath fogging in the dusk. “No need for it. I’m not your enemy.”

I felt a squeezing in my breastbone, like an ache for breath. “Once, I was sure that. Now everything’s changed.”

“Not everything.”

“But it has. Look at where we are.” I waved at the wintry woods. “Look at who we are.”

“Right. I’m Asa Latimer, the smuggler. That must be your beau’s assessment of me.”

I sucked on my chapped bottom lip. I stole information from Duncan and lied to him. But I also wanted to protect him.

“It’s all right—he and I are not friends. And he’s not wrong. I am a smuggler. But a poor one, as I’ve never turned a profit at it. My uncle abhors the pickled and jarred foods that come on the victualing fleets, so I send him fresh goods from time to time. Cabbages, corn, apples. Prime cuts of meat, when I’m feeling especially nefarious. As for ‘Asa Latimer,’ that is who I must be here in New York.” He watched me, waiting for my reaction.

“Because…?”

“Because the truth would not go over well.”

My mind reeled as I understood. He was still a patriot. Still the Asa I’d known on the Ambrosia. I stared ahead, the snowy path blurring.

“I wanted to tell you this months ago. I tried to.”

“And I didn’t let you.” I winced, remembering that first night on the Endurance. “I was awful to you.”

“You were angry and had cause to be. What I said about disliking Grand Bahama…it was rude. I have regretted it very much.”

“Why did you say it?” I swallowed. “To hurt me?”

“No. What I said was the truth. I did go there and it did disappoint me—because you were not there. But only when I saw your reaction did I realize how you’d perceived my words. Then it was too late.” He glanced over, his eyes softening. “I resigned myself to waiting thirty years to clear the air.”

“You’re teasing me, Asa. But I can’t laugh.”

He smiled. “It was a rather wicked comeback. I quite respected it.”

For reasons I didn’t understand, that did make me laugh. Then I didn’t know what else to say. I had too much to absorb. Too many feelings. We walked the rest of the way in silence.

At the groundskeeper’s cottage, we discovered our party in a state of commotion. The sleighs were gone. All the carriages were lined up out front. The second leg of the race was called off, due to the threatening weather. Dinner at the Winterses’ country home as well. Everyone would hurry back to the city before Bowery Road became impassable.

“Mr. Stone will come with us so that your uncle can tend to his injury,” Aunt Nora said. “We will take him directly to the Stones. Lucy will go with Charlotte. The judge will see you home.”

There was no time for discussion. Before I knew it, Asa was handing me into the Latimer carriage. Inside, Judge Latimer sat in the middle of the anterior seat, breathing heavily and tugging at his neck stock in obvious discomfort. I took the facing bench and moved to the end. Asa climbed in and settled beside me. The judge rapped on the roof to signal the driver and we sped off, racing against nature now.

Sitting still, I couldn’t ignore the cold anymore. Shivers racked me and my teeth chattered. I couldn’t help either.

“Poor Miss Coates.” Judge Latimer frowned in concern. “What if you become ill?”

“I won’t, Judge. I will be fine.”

“But what if we get lost?” he said, looking through the fogged glass. “Who can see more than three feet in this weather?”

“We won’t get lost, Uncle,” Asa assured.

“But we might drive off the road and break a wheel.”

“We won’t, Uncle. But if we do, we’ll unhitch the horses and ride back.”

“What if one goes lame? What if both do?” As his panic increased, a red flush crept over his cheeks. “We could be kidnapped by Tory hunters this far outside of town. There are madmen out here. Mon dieu. Forgive me, Miss Coates. Asa, the laudanum. In the basket under the bench.”

Asa was already getting it. He rummaged inside a wood box. In the unsteady light, I watched him remove a small vial like the ones Malcolm prepared in the workshop. He poured a dram and gave it to his uncle, who took it in one tilt.

“Thank you,” the judge said, gasping. “Thank you.”

“Here.” Asa removed his cloak, laying it over his uncle’s shoulders. “Lean your head and sleep.”

“Je suis désolé, mon neveu,” said the judge.

“Ne sois pas désolé, mon oncle. Tout ira bien.”

They kept on in soft French for a little while, Asa kneeling close to his uncle and giving him his undivided attention. As I listened to the gentleness passing between them, I remembered Mama pulling her fingers through my hair, slowly untangling the salty knots as she whispered stories about her girlhood. Mama kissing my forehead. Te amo muchísimo, mi vida, she’d say into my ear. Nothing in life was more precious than having someone to whisper tendernesses to.

Soon, the judge’s soft snore filled the carriage. Asa reached under the bench again and handed me a thick blanket.

“What about your uncle?”

“I gave him my cloak.”

“What about you?”

“There is only this blanket. Take it. Please.”

I was too cold to refuse. I pulled the blanket over me.

“I’m sorry you have to see him this way. He suffers from attacks on occasion. They started after the mob abused him. He becomes irrational with fear.”

“That’s awful….I didn’t know.”

“My uncle hides much about himself. He has had to.”

I thought I understood. The judge was wealthy, handsome, older—and unmarried. I’d never seen him observe or mention a woman in an amorous way. Like me, I suspected the judge hid his true self. “He’s a wonderful man,” I said.

“Aye. He is.”

“You never mentioned him on the Ambrosia.”

Asa’s mouth tugged up on one side. “We had six days together. I believe I’d have gotten to my uncle on the seventh.” He looked at the judge, who’d fallen into a deep slumber. “He’s actually my mother’s uncle—distantly connected to the Parisian Latimers, as he was born and educated in England. He has always been there for me when I needed him.” Asa turned back to me, his eyes narrowing. “Frannie, you’re still shaking. You’re not going to freeze on me, are you?” He took my hands. “Your gloves are soaked.”

“Are they? I can’t feel my fingers to tell.”

“That won’t do.” He tugged my gloves off carefully, then pressed his hands over mine, giving me his warmth. “Better?” He leaned down and blew a hot breath over my hands—but somehow I felt it all over me.

This wasn’t right. Duncan. But Duncan wasn’t here, and this was nothing more than staving off frostbite. “Getting better,” I replied hoarsely.

“Good. Progress.”

He wove his long fingers through mine and massaged my palm with his thumb. My heart began to beat with such force it nearly hurt and I soon felt molten deep in my core.

People often said that eyes showed a person’s soul, but I’d always thought it was hands that spoke the truth. Hands hammered nails and gentled babies. They burst like happy fireworks or cowered in pockets. I couldn’t put into words what Asa’s hands were saying as they kneaded my cold ones back to life. But I wanted the whole world to be made of what I felt in them.

“Do you remember?” Asa whispered. “We were always burning up on the Ambrosia.”

“Asa.” I pulled my hands back and looked to the judge.

“He’s out, Frannie. And I meant we were always hot because it was summer. What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing.”

He laughed. “Definitely something. We are different now, aren’t we? You chiding me for being improper?”

He was making light, but I was struggling with embarrassment, and even more so with memories of how we used to be. An intense sadness swept over me. I came in search of Francisca Tasker, he’d said at Knyphausen’s. But I have yet to find her. “You prefer the girl you knew then, don’t you?”

The humor in his eyes vanished. “I’d rather not answer.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m determined not to be at odds with you anymore.”

“But you might as well just say it, ’cause I already know, Asa. I know you prefer her.”

“Frannie, why do you say ‘her’? She is you. You are still you.”

“But I’m not,” I said, and felt tears rising. “Frannie’s gone. She’s no more alive than the real Miss Coates.”

“No. That’s not true.” He turned, squaring his shoulders to me. “I see you. You’re here.”

An ache opened up in me that felt endless. “Am I?” I squeaked. I’d never wanted anything to be more true.

“Yes, Frannie. You’re right here.”

I hadn’t a prayer of holding my tears back. I dove into Asa’s shoulder and let go. I cried three years’ worth of lies, letting them wash out of me. Fierce tears. Frannie’s tears.

Mine.

Little by little, the pain eased and a pure, clean feeling replaced it. Freedom. Here, with Asa, I could say exactly what I wanted to say. As I surfaced from the hurt, I became aware of French words tumbling softly into my ear. I didn’t understand them, but it didn’t matter. The sound of his voice brought me all the way back.

I lifted my head. A handkerchief appeared before me. “Too late,” I said, taking it anyway. “I’ve already ruined your coat.”

“Nonsense. I like it much better now.”

“Now that I’ve cried all over it?”

“Precisely.”

I laughed, drying my eyes. I felt turned inside out, but so light. Like I’d drained an ocean. “What did you say just now?”

“Nothing you don’t already know. Look.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Salt water. Proof you’re still Frannie.”

“Where’ve you been, Asa? Where’ve you been all this time?”

“You can’t imagine how much I’ve wanted to tell you.”

“Whoa,” crooned the driver, and the carriage slowed.

Asa brushed his sleeve over the window. New York’s wintry streets appeared on the other side. “We’re here.”

The carriage jostled to a halt and Judge Latimer blinked awake. “Asa, what—? Where—?”

“I’m walking Miss Coates to her door, Uncle. I’ll be right back.”

He climbed out and helped me down. I didn’t let go of his arm as we walked to the door. Asa knocked on it and I silently prayed it would never open. That I could stand at his side in the middle of a blizzard forever.

“Frannie, I’m leaving New York.”

I spun to him. “Leaving?”

“Yes.” He reached into his coat and handed me a letter. “I came today to give you this before I go.”

The lock rattled. Hurriedly, I slipped the letter under my cloak. The door swung open and Maggie gasped.

“Miss Emmeline, look at the state of you! Come in! Come in from this cold! Mr. Latimer, do come inside.”

“Thank you, but I won’t be staying. Your servant, Miss Coates.” Asa bowed and returned to the carriage as I watched in a stupor.

All I wanted to do was break the letter’s seal and read it, but I’d have to wait. Lucy had arrived only a short while before me and was still awake. We’d been sharing a bed to stay warmer and to conserve firewood. I quickly changed into a dry shift and climbed in beside her.

“Thank heavens you’re here. I’ve never been so cold,” she said, snuggling close, “but it was worth it, wasn’t it? Today was the most fun I’ve had in months.”

“In years,” I said.

We whispered about the day’s adventure for a while as we slowed thawed. When I was sure she’d drifted off to sleep, I slid out of bed and tiptoed to my cloak for the letter. Lighting a fresh candle, I opened it with unsteady hands and read.