The daughter popped up from her mother’s petticoats. “It isn’t like that! All she does is help—”

“Shh, Kate. Hush, now.” Mrs. Burgin stroked the girl’s head as she began to cry again. “Don’t fuss. All will be well.”

“You’re a patriot,” I whispered. Mrs. Burgin looked up, her eyes going cold as granite. I held my breath, waiting for her to acknowledge it. She didn’t, but the truth was plain enough in her silence.

“I am a widow, Miss Coates,” she said at last. “If you go to the British, they will imprison me, and my children will have no one.”

“I won’t. I won’t say a word to anyone—I promise you.” I felt for her, in spite of her coldness toward me. She reminded me of Mama when she’d been newly widowed, struggling to care for me after Papa had died. “Tell me what I can do,” I said. My mind was on fire, burning to know more about her. Finally, someone with the same political beliefs as me. “Let me help you.”

“Forget us. That is what you can do.”

“I won’t be able to.”

“Your problem.”

“Please, Mrs. Burgin. You can trust me. We are more alike than you realize. If you’ll only—”

“Goodbye, Miss Coates. Close the door as you leave.” She bent to her whimpering children, whispering soft comforts to them, clearly finished with me.

I took the vial from my purse and set it on the floor. Then I stepped out and shut the door behind me.

Malcolm stood at the bottom of the stairs, his green eyes wide.

I had no idea how much he had overheard.

Chapter 12: Sword for Sonnet

That evening, I sat in Ranelagh Gardens under a sky filled with clouds and pretended to listen to a string quartet.

My friends sipped tea and coffee. Our silk petticoats spilled colors down the length of our row like a wave at sunset. Lucy perched on the edge of her seat, listening with her entire body. Charlotte whispered with Liesje Visser about her wedding festivities, which would begin tomorrow. Rebecca hid my new copy of Evelina in the folds of her petticoat, squinting to read in the dim lantern light. It might’ve been any ordinary night, but it wasn’t.

I felt light-headed, almost dizzy, my ribs pushing against my stays as I fought for more air. I ached to look around me.

Was my future husband here?

On top of that distraction was Mrs. Burgin.

A patriot.

I had years of political outrage built up inside me; had I finally found someone to whom I could voice my opinions? I desperately wanted to see her again. I needed to know more about her. I wanted to help her in whatever trouble she was facing. I’d have to go back tonight, in secret, as tomorrow we were leaving for Liesje’s wedding.