“She’s only borrowed,” I said, hearing how weak the distinction was even as I uttered the words. “But she’s skilled and trustworthy and a great help.” And I still didn’t know what I’d do without her.
Theodosia turned a warm smile to me. “Well, you’re an exemplary hostess.”
As Theodosia was well known for her lavish entertainments in the form of French-style salons, I managed a smile at the compliment despite the discomfiture in my breast. “You’re kind to say so. I’d been uneasy that the guest list was unbalanced without unattached ladies to round out the company of the baron and his aide.”
At this, Theodosia sputtered with laughter. “Unbalanced, indeed. I daresay our baron and his very handsome aide are not the sort to have any special interest in unattached ladies.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“It isn’t by happenstance that the baron is unmarried,” Theodosia said, her voice hushing. “Don’t you know how he came to join the revolution?”
I didn’t have the slightest idea. Foreign mercenaries of all sorts had flooded to our shores to join our cause. I assumed the baron to be one of those, albeit more noble, stouthearted, and brilliant than almost all the others. Save Lafayette, of course.
Now I leaned close to hear more.
“He was ejected from the Prussian military for unsavory habits with men,” Theodosia confided. “Nearly jailed in France for the same. On account of the fact the baron was a brilliant soldier, Ben Franklin smuggled him on a ship to America before he could be arrested as a sodomite.”
This caused me to drop the half-emptied wineglass I held, spattering the table and my new woven mats with crimson.
It seemed apt since crimson was also the color of my rage that Theodosia should speak such black-hearted slander against one of my guests. About a hero of the revolution, no less. “That’s outrageous,” I hissed, thinking less of Theodosia’s character than I had before. If she could accuse a good man of the abominable vice of buggery, an accusation that could end in his hanging, I wondered at the sins in her own heart. “People have been executed for such crimes.”
“And that is outrageous,” Theodosia said, bewildering me altogether.
By the time our guests said their farewells, I was still stewing about Theodosia’s gossip. I was, in truth, so bothered by it that I feared to even confide what she’d said to my husband lest he suspect that his wife was the sort of creature who dealt in such vile whispers. But that night, before we went upstairs, I asked, “The baron is a man of high character, is he not?”
Hamilton smiled. “He has his imprudencies, but upon the whole the baron is a gentleman of real intelligence for whom I have a particular esteem. I recall that when he first came to America he could speak no English. And yet, he made himself invaluable. Upon all occasions, he conducted himself like an experienced and brave officer. Did he not impress you at dinner, my dear girl?”
The truth was, the baron had impressed me. I liked him—and his . . . companion. I even liked his dog. And most of all, I liked the salutary effect that he had upon Alexander’s mood. So I didn’t ask about the baron’s imprudencies. And I promised myself that instead of spreading Theodosia’s gossip, I’d instead bask in the success of our party.
“You enjoyed yourself tonight,” I whispered, leaning back against my husband where we paused in the doorway to watch our boy sleep in his cradle.
“I enjoyed myself very much.” Alexander’s hands rested warmly upon my shoulders. “You are a better hostess even than your mother.”
I doubted that. I didn’t have Mama’s perfect understanding of everything that must be done at the dinner table and the order in which it must be done.
But before I could express those thoughts, my husband continued, “I’ve found a precious jewel in you.” Alexander wrapped his arms around me, and then his hands drifted down to my rounding belly. “Have I told you how pleased I am that you’re giving me another child?”
“I shall never tire of hearing it,” I said.
He turned me in his arms so that he could kiss me. He tasted of wine and exhilaration as he lifted me off my sore feet. I remembered how happy he’d been at the birth of Philip, and it filled my heart with hope for the future.
But when we finally had our fill of kisses and turned down the bed, the watchman passed our window crying, “Past ten o’clock and Cranston, the fishmonger, is a vile hypocrite and an enemy of freedom.”