That only made me hurt worse. “You’re doing this all wrong, Asa. I thought you’d fight for me at least a little bit.”

“Comet…” He swallowed, his blue eyes so intent. “Can you not see I am fighting for you? I’m certainly not fighting for myself.”

“Well, this is terrible.” I pushed away a tear. “I thought we’d at least kiss.”

He looked down and stabbed at the dirt with his cane. “Have mercy on me, Frannie.”

“No. I won’t.” I darted forward to kiss him, hopping to make up the difference in our height, but with nerves propelling me, instead of hopping, I jumped. I knocked his hat off and kicked his shin, my lips smacking somewhere above his mouth. Asa jerked back, catching my arms. His cane clattered to the dirt, joining his hat.

I stared into his shocked eyes. “I’m sorry,” I blurted.

“You should be. How can I resist you now?” He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. Deeply. Passionately. For blissful moments, we clung to each other like we’d only breathe again if we became one, but that was how he’d always made me feel. Together we made something whole. Something beautiful.

As we parted, I picked up his hat and cane for him. We walked back to the house holding hands until we couldn’t any longer. And then we let go.

The next morning, I went to see Townsend. It was Tuesday, a day early, but I had to get back to spying again. I needed a way to escape my own mind and the pain in my heart.

As soon as I entered the store, Townsend rounded the counter and came to me. “Good day, Miss Coates. How good to see you. I was just walking to the Fly Market. Perhaps you’d care to join me? I’d be glad to see you home after.”

His words tumbled out in an agitated rush.

“Certainly, Mr. Townsend,” I replied, a bolt of fear spearing through me. He sent his clerk to alert Malcolm to go on without me, and we entered the bustle of New York’s streets.

“Bloody news!” shouted a newsboy as he darted between us. He raised one arm, waving copies in the air. “Where are the damned rebels today?”

I glanced at Townsend, expecting to share a moment of wry amusement, being damned rebels ourselves, but his eyes darted restlessly from face to face, and I noticed that a patch of red had begun to creep up his neck. I’d never seen him so flustered. “Townsend, you’re shook.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I am. And I shall soon explain why.”

We reached the market and stood a little distance from the stalls and hawkers, where several horse carts were parked.

Townsend removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed the sweat on his forehead. “I thought I had a solution,” he said with no preamble. “An answer to the trouble we’ve had sending dispatches in a timely manner. I asked my cousin to act as a courier, posing as a Tory, and sent him to New Jersey—directly across the North River.” He grimaced. “It would’ve saved days had it worked. A week, perhaps. But the boy is young. Foolish. It seems he became impassioned in playing his role and tried to recruit other Tories to assist in the defense of the Crown. Only he didn’t realize he was speaking to other patriots who were also masking themselves as Tories.”