A thrill skittered through me at the thought, and I found myself lifting out of my chair. “I’m going to walk the garden path a bit,” I told Lucy. I couldn’t sit any longer—not when I felt like I wanted to take off and fly.

She looked up, her gaze dreamy. “Shall I come with you?”

“I could never take you away from your beloved Bach. I won’t be long.”

As I left the seating area, I noticed Uncle Henry and Judge Latimer talking with some other gentlemen by the tables of champagne and wine in the back. Older men in fine wigs and silver-buckled shoes that flashed in the darkness. I recognized them—displaced Tories from Virginia who’d come to New York, like so many others, for the protection of the British military. Several of them owned expansive tobacco plantations.

My mind shot back to Mercy and the time we dove, so eager to find a silver tea set, a gold coin, and instead found rusting manacles and chains spread over the seabed. So many scattered over the white sand, there’d seemed no end. Some with bones still attached. Mercy had cried for a week after that.

“Oh—pardon me,” I said, bumping into one of the men on my way to the gardens. His champagne jumped out of his glass and drenched his waistcoat. I heard Uncle Henry sputter and apologize, but I kept going. “Monster,” I whispered.

My mind had gone to Mercy, and there it stayed as I entered the path. I thought of the time she’d thrown fish guts at me and laughed herself to tears. Then me, chasing her across the sand to return the kindness. I had dear friends now. But none were like Mercy. I shoved the images away—my wistful feelings, too. Since I’d gone swimming in the North River, my past seemed to be hounding me.

Delving deeper into the path, I turned my mind back to Mrs. Burgin. How could I visit her—and move through the city streets unseen? If I was spotted out alone, after dark, my sanity and virtue would be questioned. Socially, it would be devastating. Mama had lost everything when her reputation had been ruined. She’d had to turn to Sewel. I couldn’t let that happen to me.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Coates?” said a male voice behind me.

I froze, invisible pins pricking my entire body. Forcing my shoulders to relax, I turned.

A young officer strode up with his hat tucked under one arm and a hand steadying the saber at his side.

“Good evening, madam. My name is Lieutenant James Duncan and, um—” He glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “Major André was behind me a moment ago. I had asked him to make our introduction.”

André stood at the path’s entrance surrounded by fawning young ladies—a sight I’d seen a hundred times.