I watched her now speaking with Mrs. Adams, the Vice President’s wife. My brief conversation had only confirmed to me how hateful was Pearson and how unhappy Cynthia must be in her life with him. She was right, of course, that I could not simply take her away, but neither could I leave her. I would have to conceive of some alternative, and I would have to do so soon, because each day she spent with him would be a torment to me.

“You appear lost in thought, sir.”

I looked up, and there was the woman I had seen with Cynthia and Anne Bingham. She wore a much simpler gown than did Cynthia, looser, longer arms, higher neck. The material was of a plain pale red, but it looked marvelous well upon her. She was a brown-haired beauty with large eyes, penetrating in their gray intensity, like clouds threatening snow.

She stood next to a man of my own age who, though not very tall or very distinguished, with his receding hair, yet held himself in an ad-mirable manner. Here was a man the ladies enjoyed, and who enjoyed the ladies. He had something of a swagger I could not help but approve.

“Captain Ethan Saunders, at your service,” I said to them both.

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain,” said the man. “Colonel Aaron Burr, though now I suppose I am to be addressed as senator.”

“Ah, yes,” I said. “Senator Burr. I have read much of you in the papers. You have made quite an enemy of our Secretary Hamilton in New York.”

He laughed. “Hamilton and I are friends from many years back, but he is every inch the Federalist, and New York is increasingly republican and anti-Federalist in its outlook. Nevertheless, I like to think that men might be opposed politically and friends socially.”

“I do love an optimist,” I said. “And is this lady Mrs. Burr?”

“Mrs. Burr is not here at present. I am afraid I only just met this delightful lady, yet I will take the liberty of introducing you to Mrs. Joan Maycott.”

I bowed.

“Now that you are in good hands,” the senator said to the lady, “I must beg your leave to speak to some of my brothers of the Senate. I hope I shall see you more, Mrs. Maycott.”

He took his leave and left me with the woman, and I could not say I was displeased. She had that vivacious look that suggested she should be good company. There was more to her too. She had a command in her physical presence, a kind of authority that, in her own feminine way, reminded me of the most accomplished and successful of military men. Strange though it might be to say, I had never met anyone, man or woman, who so immediately put me in mind of Washington himself.

“You did look lost in thought, you know,” she said to me.

“I am a thoughtful man,” I said.

“Was it something to do with Mr. Pearson? You will forgive me for asking, but I saw you in conversation with him. Is he a particular friend of yours?”

“I know him from many years ago,” I said. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“I am friends with his wife,” she answered.

“Then you know he’s been missing.”

“Oh, he told me he was in New York,” she said. “But perhaps I ought not to have said as much. I was under the impression he did not wish people to know it.”

“Then he has been thwarted. How sad for him.”

She laughed. “I enjoy my pettiness with a dose of wit. You do not like him?”

“I love wit and may endure pettiness, but he strikes me as cruel, which I cannot abide,” I answered.

“I think perhaps you know his wife from many years ago too.” From another person this might have seemed impertinent beyond endurance, but there was something so clever and endearing in how she spoke these words that it doused all impropriety.

“She and I are old friends.” I turned to look at this beauty full on, and she met my gaze most boldly. Here, I thought, might be an agreeable consolation to my confusion with Cynthia. “Do you live in Philadelphia, Mrs. Maycott?”

“I live here, though I travel much.”

“You enjoy travel-with Mr. Maycott, perhaps?”

She looked directly into my eyes once more, as though leveling an accusation. “Sir, Mr. Maycott is dead.”

“I am sorry for that, madam.”

“That is merely something one says.”

“Mrs. Maycott,” I said, to my strange interlocutor, “I cannot help but feel you believe we have met before, or that you expect me to have some knowledge of your circumstances.”

“I don’t believe you do, sir. Mr. Duer tells me, however, that you inquire into Jacob Pearson’s business, and that you do it for Hamilton. Is that so?”

I did not pause. I did not wait so much as an instant, for I would not show surprise that she had previously spoken of me or knew anything of my business. I would act as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “You know Mr. Duer?”

“There are so many here,” she answered. “One may meet everyone. But I must ask you, as there is much consternation about Hamilton ’s policies: Are you an enthusiast of his?”

“I do not work for or with Hamilton, though my interests may be intersecting with his.”

“Tell me, Captain. Have you any thoughts on the whiskey excise?”

“I am no friend to excise taxes,” I said, keeping all inflection from my voice. Nevertheless, I set down my glass on a nearby table and scanned the room for Lavien. Pearson’s disappearance and the whiskey tax were bound together-there could be no doubt of it, not when my inquiry into the matter had faced opposition from the hairless western giant, the man with superior whiskey as his calling card. I did not know if therein lay the link to the threat against the bank, but I hardly cared about the threat against the bank. I only cared that this woman appeared to be telling me that she had some knowledge of Pearson’s disappearance and thus a connection to Cynthia’s safety.

“I believe we have much in common, sir,” she said. “We are both caught up in events larger than ourselves, and we must make choices that we sometimes find unsavory if we are to do what is right.”

I attempted a smile. “What events are you involved in, madam?”

She leaned closer. “I cannot speak of them now. Not here. It is too soon and too public.” She gazed across the room and, indeed, William Duer was looking at us most pointedly. “Would you be willing to meet with me again, sir? Have I given you sufficient reason to do so?”

“A man need never look too hard to find a reason to meet with a pretty lady.”

“I do not know that I am vulnerable to flattery,” she said, not unkindly.

“Shall we make an effort to find out?” I asked.

“That sounds most delightful.”

“When shall we talk again?”

“Have you an engagement for two nights hence?”

I bowed. “I am yours to command.”

“I am so pleased.” Coming toward us once more was Jacob Pearson, now alone, Cynthia being across the room speaking with the beautiful Mrs. Bingham. Mrs. Maycott reached out and grabbed Pearson’s wrist. “Mr. Pearson, would it be an imposition if I bring a dear friend to dinner the night after next?”

He looked at me and was unable to contain his surprise, but then seemed to recollect himself, or perhaps Mrs. Maycott. “You may, of course, bring anyone you like. Unless it is this man here. I cannot like him.”

“Such wit,” she said. “Certainly it is Captain Saunders. We both look forward to the evening.” Mrs. Maycott paused not a moment, but took my arm and led me away. “You see, nothing is more easily effected.”

“I am not certain I will be made to feel welcome,” I said.

“And I am not sure either of us cares. I, however, will have the pleasure of offering consternation to a man I do not like, and you will have the opportunity to pry further into his business. We shall both, in the end, be made happy.”