“Come in, come in.” Edward waved his daughter into the private haven that was his study.

CC smiled engagingly as she entered the room. “Do you have a business appointment soon?”

“Yes, Lord Kincade arrived in Boston yesterday and we’ve a meeting set up for this afternoon,” he explained.

CC couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose slightly in distaste at the thought of the English nobleman. Though she’d never met this Lord Kincade, her encounters with other egotistical, supercilious members of the ton had left her completely unimpressed. CC hoped that she would be able to avoid this newcomer when he finally arrived, for no doubt he would be just as foppish as all the others she’d known.

“I see.” Her reply did not hide her already established dislike of the as yet unseen Englishman. Her father cast her a sharp glance.

“He will be here on business.” His tone was sharp, as he had intended it to be. Edward knew of his daughter’s low opinion of the members of the peerage, and he had no desire for a possible run-in between the newly arrived Kincade and outspoken CC.

“Then I will endeavor to stay out of your way,” she teased with a lightness of spirit.

“Vixen,” Edward growled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Now, to matters at hand…?” He led the conversation, anticipating good news regarding a change in her present marital status.

“What matters, Father?” CC kept her features schooled into a mask of wide-eyed innocence as she strolled casually to the floor-to-ceiling casement window that looked out over their spacious garden.

“Blast it, girl! Don’t play coy with me!” Edward had known her far too long to be taken in by her mischievous ways. “Tell me what you told the young buck! Am I to have a chance at grandchildren soon or not?”

“I’m afraid it’s not quite your time yet, Papa,” she told him kittenishly, and she was rewarded with a frustrated groan. CC couldn’t stop the chuckle that threatened, and she laughed as he scowled at her blackly. “Oh, Father,” she sighed as she came to stand behind him, looping her arms affectionately around his neck and giving him a sweet hug, “I’m sorry, but I’m just not ready to marry yet.”

“Sorry, bah!” he snorted in derision. “You’re twenty-two years old, my lass. Well past the time for marriage! Why, when your mother was your age, she had already been married four years and had borne you.”

“I know that, Papa, but I am not Mother,” CC answered gently.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to try to be more like her. She was a wonderful woman, and I shall always mourn the day she was taken from me,” he related in a solemn tone as he thought of his dear departed wife, Sarah.

CC tightened her arms about his neck for just a brief instant in sympathetic understanding before moving to sit in the chair opposite his desk.

“Well, you might as well tell me everything,” Edward grumbled, studying the beautiful woman who was his daughter. How like her mother she looked, he mused as he gazed at her with loving eyes. Her hair was long and russet. As was her custom during the day, she’d pinned the sides up and away from her face, framing her perfect features with a tumbling array of thick, glossy curls. Her eyes were the mirror of her soul, as her mother’s had been. Vividly green and reflecting a quick, keen intelligence, they could be sparkling with joy one moment or flashing fire the next. Her complexion was perfect, her nose slender, her mouth wide and given to easy laughter.

Edward knew CC was a woman to be reckoned with, for she was an educated woman of opinion. He also knew that he was the one responsible for having raised her to think as freely as she did, and he was now ruing the day. Though he loved her as no other, they seemed at odds on just about every subject. True, CC always gave the appearance of being in deference to his masculine mandates, but Edward somehow sensed that it was all an illusion, that underneath she held very firm convictions from which she would not be swayed-a less than desirable trait she’d inherited from him. His daughter was not a malleable female, and that thought bothered him. The ability to surrender to a man’s will and submit to him as head of the household was the main quality that most men wanted in a wife. He wondered if his child would ever find her mate.

“What did the poor lad do that made you reject him?”

“Nothing, and there’s not a lot to tell, Papa,” CC began. “You know that John and I have been seeing one another for some time now.”

“Yes, yes…so go on…” he encouraged impatiently.

“So, unknown to me, John’s feelings had developed into something deeper than friendship,” she explained.

“And yours didn’t?”

“No. I don’t love John,” she replied honestly. “He’s a good man, and kind, too, but I feel nothing more for him than friendship.”

Edward thumped the top of his desk loudly. “Don’t you see, woman, sometimes love comes after marriage! John’s a good man. You said so yourself. His affiliations are the same as mine, and he brings in a good living. He’d be the perfect husband for you! He’s not bad-looking either, if I’m any judge of men, and you’d certainly make handsome babies together.”

CC flushed at his last statement. “I will not marry a man I do not love, Father. After all, you were in love with Mother when you married her, weren’t you?”

“I give up!” he muttered in exasperation, and she immediately brightened at the thought.

“Do you really?” she queried hopefully.

“Never,” he came back quickly, smiling despite his heartfelt disappointment. “The right man for you is out there somewhere.” He steepled his fingers in a thoughtful gesture as he regarded her.

“I don’t doubt that for a moment, Papa,” CC agreed easily.

“Just don’t wait too much longer to find him! I do want to live to see my grandchildren.”

She laughed lightly. “If that’s your only worry, I’d say I have a good long time to work with.”

Edward growled good-naturedly as a reluctant smile curved his lips.

“Now, about the ball Friday night…” CC ventured, glad to be off the subject of John and marriage.

“Yes, what about it? Is there a problem?”

“No. Everything’s running smoothly. It’s just that there’s another couple I’d like to invite.”

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” He frowned, trying to imagine who he could have forgotten. “Was there someone I forgot?”

“Ryan Graves and his wife, Rachel.”

“What? Graves? He’s a Whig! I’ll not have him in my house!” he thundered as he thought of the outspoken supporter of John Hancock and Sam Adams.

“Papa, they’re very nice,” CC said determinedly.

“And just how would you know?” Edward had long been aware of CC’s interest in the political affairs of Boston, but he had not known that she was involved to the extent that she would have made the acquaintance of someone of Graves’s caliber.

“I met them at Faneuil Hall some weeks ago. They seemed very-” She got no further.

“Faneuil Hall?” He looked at her aghast, for he knew that Faneuil Hall was the main meeting place for the rabble that wanted to stir up trouble in Boston. “What were you doing at Faneuil Hall?”

“There was a meeting and I-”

“You were at a meeting there? I’ll tell you about those meetings, miss! They’re nothing but a gathering of malcontents. Why, if those fools have their way, this town would be in a shambles in a week! Stay away from those gatherings. God only knows what might happen one of these nights.”

“There is a lot of truth in what’s being said there, Papa,” she insisted.

“Truth? Bah!” he snorted derisively. “It’s only the truth as those rabble-rousers see it! Don’t you realize that our allegiance is totally to the king? We owe everything we have to the Crown. This house, your education…why, our very safety is ensured because the troops are here.”

“And they certainly provided safety for us several years ago, didn’t they?” The thought of the troops quartered in Boston always angered her, for she had been there the night that several soldiers on sentry duty had opened fire on a crowd of unarmed colonists. She had seen it all…the death, the misery…and she would never forget it. It was burned into her memory-a bloody, fiery image of dying men. It was that remembrance that fueled her driving compulsion to be involved in the rebel movement.