I stared at their backs for a moment, letting a wave of fear pass. Hands trembling, I unlaced my gown and petticoats and let them slip off. My stays were back lacing, though.

“I need help,” I said.

“I’ll go get—”

“No.” I knew who they’d bring and I couldn’t bear to see him again. I went to Bradley, turning my back to him. “Cut the laces.”

“Lord forgive me,” he muttered. Then he sliced a path up my spine.

The pressure of the stays gave way and my lungs eased fully open. I stepped away again and tossed my stays on the berth, then pulled my shift over my head. As it billowed to my feet, gooseflesh rippled over me and I had the strange realization this was my first time bare in the presence of a man. That it was two men and nothing at all how I’d hoped it would be.

I pulled on the shirt and trousers, the ozenbrig material rough as a cat’s tongue. Such a part of my past—and now my future. There were leather shoes as well, dirty and worn, but a decent fit.

“I’m ready,” I said. Another lie, but a strange calm had befallen me. I felt as quiet inside as winter. I was trapped—but freed from decisions. From calculation. All I could do now was continue.

The men turned.

Bradley shook his head. “There’s no being ready for where you’re going.”

“Miss…” Wilcox’s brow pinched with distress. “Whatever you may have done to find yourself here, surely it can be undone?”

I thought of Townsend and the intelligence I’d given him. “I hope not.”

I’d given up everything for it.

I had given my very life.

Ten minutes later, I sat next to Duncan on the tender that would take me to the Jersey. Six men faced us from the other end of the boat, pulling at oars in measured strokes. Across the river, the sun sank behind New York’s rooflines.

A full day had passed without my knowing.

The Holdridges were probably distraught over my disappearance. They’d think I’d been kidnapped by the same man who’d murdered Malcolm, most likely. I doubted Duncan would tell them the truth—it would blacken his reputation and pull him down with me. Imagining the pain I’d inflicted on Lucy was unbearable.

And Duncan…I glanced at him, and my stomach clenched.

With every stroke of the oars, Wallabout Bay crept closer. It almost seemed fitting. My spying journey had begun there—and there it would end.

“Have you any idea where you’re going?” Duncan’s voice was like frost.

The men at the oars looked up and awaited my answer.

From the moment I stepped aboard, they’d been staring at my trousers and shirt. My shaved scalp, and the lump on my forehead.