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.