I shook my head. “I couldn’t guess.”
“They were debating whether it was right to kill the Hessians on Christmas Day all those years ago. The men still feel sorrow over it because, they said, those Hessians had no choice to fight us. They were sent by a king.”
I just stared, wondering what point he meant to make.
“Remember. Not wealthy. Not learned. Not statesmen. And yet they came to the conclusion that they were fighting for the Hessians, too. They said they were fighting so that no one might ever again be sent to die as a slave instead of a free man.”
At those words, I took a sharp breath, much affected.
Hamilton came closer. “If we cannot hold this army together until springtime, that’s the end. We lose the war. We bow to the king. And every soldier who has fought and died in this war will have fought and died in vain. Our sacred rights erased from this earth.”
“You wrote that our sacred rights could never be erased by mortal power.”
Hamilton looked startled that I should remember the lines my sister recited, then made a dismissive sound at the back of his throat. “Well, I was an idealistic fool when I wrote that.”
“No,” I whispered, my eyes blurring with tears. I didn’t believe it. He was brave to write those words. Even if the army fell apart and we lost this war and those ideas perished from the earth, I would always believe he was right to express them.
At the visible evidence of my distress, Hamilton reached into his coat as if to retrieve a kerchief, and finding none, took the liberty of drawing me into his embrace.
I found unexpected comfort in his strong arms, and we stood like that for a long time, awash in sadness. Eventually, he murmured into my hair, “You are going to be the ruin of me, Betsy Schuyler.”
Still teary, I spoke words muffled by our closeness. “Why would you say so?”
“When last we spoke, I returned to headquarters so distracted I couldn’t remember the watchword.”
I could scarcely believe him or understand how it might be my fault. “And you lay that at my feet?”
“I’ve behaved very badly toward you,” he said, his arms still around me, warm and protective. “I am sorry for it. The truth is, Miss Schuyler, by some odd contrivance, you’ve found the secret of interesting me in everything that concerns you.”
Interesting him? “But you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Not enough, it would seem.” He stared at me so long I thought I’d beg him to go on, and then he did. “You aren’t the only good-hearted young lady of gentle breeding in Morristown, but you’re the only one who would ever come here. Which proves you deserve all I think of you and more, even if it’s become extremely inconvenient for me.”
“Inconvenient?” I asked, searching those blue eyes in an effort to understand the meaningful tone of his voice.
He sighed. “Extremely. You see, our little military family is the only family I’ve ever known. And because Tilghman is besotted with you, I ought never to have looked in your direction. But now I cannot stop looking.”
With those words, he turned my world on its axis.
And while it was still spinning, he gave an exasperated little laugh. “Oh, banish those stars in your beautiful black eyes, Miss Schuyler. Even were it not for Tench, I fear we are playing a comedy of all in the wrong and should correct the mistake before we begin to act the tragedy. I’m no fit suitor for you.”
That he’d given thought to such a thing awakened something in me. “Because you’re an enemy of marriage?”
“Because I have no fortune. I have no family. And I’m a sinner.”
“Three things that can all be remedied by the right woman,” I said. It was, perhaps, the quickest answer I’d ever given in my life. And it seemed to take him off guard.
“I hadn’t considered it that way.” I wasn’t sure I believed him. He was the sort of man who seemed to think about all sides of everything. But the next thing he said made me realize that perhaps, in matters of the heart, he didn’t allow himself. Releasing me from his embrace, his face reddening with chagrin, he held me at an arm’s length. “I’m afraid there remains yet one defect in my character that cannot be wiped away. I was born on the wrong side of the blanket and have no right to my name. I am a bastard,” he said, his lips curling with contempt of the word, or himself, I could not say. “Undeserving of a lady of your pedigree.”
I would never have guessed it of him. He seemed every inch the cultivated gentleman. “I—I’d heard rumor you were descended of Scots nobility.”