“Goodness,” Lucy said, her blue eyes blinking. “What did I just see?”

“Either a siege”—Charlotte smiled—“or a courtship.”

“Are you pleased, Emmie?” Lucy whispered that night. As bridesmaids in Liesje’s wedding party, we were staying in the main house and had been given a room Charlotte had christened “Our Little Cathedral” for its soaring ceilings. I lay in bed between my two friends, staring up. The sloped rafters rose so steeply that candlelight didn’t reach the top, and the darkness up there unsettled me. “I worry you might have agreed to dance with him to spare him the embarrassment.”

I shimmied away from Charlotte, who was snoring softly and crowding me. I envied her. Tired as I felt, I couldn’t sleep. “I do want to dance with him, Lucy,” I said. I couldn’t wait for it, in fact. “It was all the attention.”

“I thought so. I felt overwhelmed for you.”

I hadn’t expected to be so seen on the very day I’d decided to spy. The attention had lingered on me the rest of the afternoon, everyone asking me about “that dashing young rogue from the winning sloop.” It had spoiled my quest for more information. Wherever I went, I became the topic of conversation.

After the sailing race, the bridal party had retreated to a private dinner with the women in Liesje’s family. We’d spoken of easy topics, not the war, but I hadn’t expected much else. We were meant to inspire men to noble deeds through our goodness and virtue—not to dabble in their affairs. Patriot women were bolder in their political involvement, I knew. Long before the fighting began, they’d stopped purchasing goods imported from England, even learning to spin their own cloth so they could make their own garments. Many of the gentlemen I knew mocked their involvement. They had good laughs over the spirit of American women.

“I am happy for you, Em,” Charlotte croaked sleepily. “Lieutenant Duncan is one of the best bachelors here. I asked Mrs. Visser about him at dinner. He is respected by friends and peers, and his fortune overshadows ours both.”

I glanced at Lucy. She wasn’t on the same level as us, and it bothered me when Charlotte called attention to it. Then Charlotte’s words sank in. “Did you say he has wealth?”

“Yes. A very snug fortune, in fact.”

“But I thought…Uncle Henry was carrying on discussions with him….”

“Duncan’s not after your purse, Emmie,” Charlotte said. “He doesn’t need it. Just be sure he’s not after something else.”

“Charlotte!” Lucy said.

“What? We must share these things and protect each other. Duncan is a gentleman, not some obscure country rustic, but you must still be vigilant. You may dally with him a bit, if you wish, but only under the strictest pledge of secrecy.”

“Charlotte, please. Emmie’s not thinking about that!”