All at once, Kitty whirled upon me in a swirl of pink-striped satin, eyes burning with anger. “I haven’t forgotten anything. Unlike your husband, who forgets who helped him get his start in this country. My family introduced him into society, but I suppose he has new friends now . . .”
“How appallingly rude,” Peggy spat at Kitty.
Kitty turned on her. “Rude? And yet you were the one jesting loud enough for everyone to hear that Mrs. Church would like Hamilton to become a knight of her bedchamber.”
Peggy’s mouth dropped into an oval. “I never said any such thing!”
Meanwhile, my cheeks heated at the insult of being confronted this way in public. “Kitty, I—I don’t know what you mean by any of this.”
“Pay her no mind,” Peggy said, linking our arms and attempting to pull me away.
“Yes, you do know what I mean,” Kitty accused, placing herself in our way. Even more malevolently, she added, “Then again, you’ve always made it your business to remain unaware of anything you didn’t wish to be aware of, Betsy. So let me explain. Your father, who is certain to get a Senate appointment, promised that your family would support my cousin for the other Senate seat. But now that Hamilton is to command the nation’s treasury, he’s violated the agreement and thrown his weight behind some . . . upstart.”
With a rustle of her skirts, Angelica interposed herself between us like my guardsman. “Oh, but Kitty, you’ll put a wrinkle in your forehead worrying about politics! Let the men sort it out while you tell me where you found this divine pink robe.”
Never before in our whole lives had my older sister been content to leave politics to the men. In fact, Angelica was, in her own dulcet way, performing a political act by trying to divert the conversation. And as striking as that was, what most stood out to me was Kitty’s certainty that Alexander was to be appointed treasurer. How did she know that when I did not?
Kitty was not distracted by my sister’s diversionary talk of fashion. “As always, you Schuylers stick together. But remember, so do the Livingstons.” With that, Kitty flounced away.
“She must have misunderstood something,” I murmured, my head spinning as I turned to Peggy. “What was she on about anyway?”
Angelica gave a wave of her fan. “Much ado about nothing. I dropped a garter during the dance, and Alexander gallantly swept it up and returned it to me. So of course I teased that in America he can’t be a Knight of the Garter.” She grasped me by the shoulders. “Pay Kitty Livingston no mind. With power and influence comes jealousy, Betsy.”
“Yes,” Peggy said, quickly. “Don’t let her upset you.”
“I won’t,” I said. On any other night, I might’ve fretted about the confrontation, but I refused to do so on this night—not when we’d worked so hard to get here, and not when I wished to cheer Angelica, and certainly not after President Washington had done me such an honor.
Peggy sighed, and I followed her glance in the direction of Governor Clinton. “But your husband does have a penchant for making powerful enemies.”
“He has to,” Angelica replied. “It’s the way of the world. You can’t rise in station without something, or someone, to step on. With Papa now in the Senate, and Hamilton possibly leading the new treasury department, our family is in ascendance. The Livingstons will simply have to learn to cede to their betters.”
*
“MRS. HAMILTON,” MY HUSBAND purred against my neck. “You were tonight, as you were in Morristown all those years ago, the belle of the ball.”
I peered at him in the mirror of my dressing table, where I sat removing my pearl earbobs. Despite the unpleasantness with Kitty, the ball had been thrilling, and I was both exhausted and exhilarated. The grandness of the occasion, my husband’s unfailing attention, the liveliness of the society—and the dance with our country’s new president. It had all been a delight. We deserved this celebration, this moment, this joy.
“The belle of the ball? Is that so, Colonel Hamilton?” I asked coyly.
His very warm hands moved to my embroidered stomacher. “It is.”
I sighed. “And yet, when the rooster crows, the children will awaken and I shall be transformed to a simple Dutch housewife once again.”
“Then I’ll make good use of the hours between now and the rooster,” he said, playfully pulling a pin from the fabric and carelessly letting it drop upon the mahogany table with a soft plink.