“Did you have any trouble getting away?” he worried.

“No. Luckily father had a business meeting he had to go to. As I figure it, I should make it home before he does,” she told him, matching him stride for manly stride as they trudged on toward the inn.

“CC, you don’t know how I worry about you…” John began hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to continue this charade? You know the risk you’re taking.”

He glanced at her quickly, and the look he gave her reflected his disgust with her outfit. He thought it much too dangerous when she disguised herself to attend the meetings. She was a lady and should act like one.

“John…” The unspoken threat was in her tone as she halted and faced him squarely, hands on hips.

“I know,” he replied, annoyed by his inability to control her. As much as he loved her, he found himself growing more and more disenchanted with her whenever he came up against her independent, headstrong ways.

“Then let’s go.” She stalked off. CC had hoped that their conversation the previous day had blunted his feelings, but he seemed just as possessive and dictatorial as ever.

They reached the Green Dragon Inn without speaking again and, after giving the appropriate password, were admitted to the secluded room above the stable where the meeting was to be held. Greetings were exchanged among those present along with news received from the other colonies by the Committees of Correspondence.

“I’ve heard that an outsider is coming tonight,” Jack Dearborn, a small, nervous man who moved in the inner circles of the group, confided to CC and John as they settled in around the large table.

“Who?”

“Don’t know his name, but I know there was a lot of arguing among the leaders as to whether to deal with him or not.”

“Why did they decide to do it?” CC wondered. “Is he someone important?”

“More importantly, is he someone we can trust?” John asked.

Jack shrugged. “Don’t know. All I know is that Joshua is bringing him. They’ll probably show up a little later.”

John and CC exchanged puzzled glances as they tried to imagine why a stranger would be admitted to their midst. Times were treacherous enough without risking the sanctity of the meetings.

A respectful hush fell over those gathered as John Hancock entered, followed closely by Sam Adams. They were a study in contrasts, the rich merchant and the fiery orator. Hancock, impeccably groomed, was a perfect example of the successful Bostonian. Adams, his gray wig askew, his brown suit badly in need of pressing, his shoes scuffed, tended to look as if outward appearances meant nothing to him.

All listened attentively as Adams, furious and indignant over the news he’d just received, addressed the group first. In his usual impassioned manner, he bombarded those present with the outrageous revelation that, along with the terrible monopoly given the British East India Company over colonial trade, Governor Hutchinson had cleverly arranged to have his own sons appointed as agents for the tea, thus ensuring their own future riches at the expense of everyone else. Graft and corruption! Monopoly!

Local merchants would be driven out of business by the English dominance! The people would starve! And if Parliament could ordain a monopoly on tea, what was to stop them from setting up other singular controls?

Those at the meeting responded with indignant fury at the news Adams imparted, and a rumble of protest swept through the room.

“There is only one solution to these abuses!” he declared. “We must be freed from tyranny! We must be independent! It’s the only answer!”

Cheers of agreement answered his call, and Adams then relinquished the floor to Ryan Graves.

“I think we all are in accord with Sam’s assessment of our situation. We are sending notice to the other colonies through our Committee of Correspondence to try to block the sale of English tea, and while this may help, it will not end the problem.”

“Here, here!” someone shouted in a patriotic frenzy.

“There is only one way to end Britain’s stranglehold on us…” Graves’s tone lowered as he prepared to deliver the most important bit of news. “There is only one solution, and it’s inevitable. We must be ready! It is precisely for that reason that I have agreed to meet with a man Joshua Smith tells me could help our cause.”

A sudden quiet settled over the meeting until one voice called out in question, “How?”

“Joshua has informed me that he’s made contact with a man who is interested in selling us arms.”

The silence that gripped the room was deafening. It had finally been spoken aloud…the dreaded possibility that had been considered by all, but quickly denied. They did not want to fight, but they also realized, if it came to conflict, they had to be physically prepared or face almost certain annihilation at the hands of the British regulars.

“How do we know we can trust this man? How do we know he’s not some kind of spy working for Governor Hutchinson?” another asked.

“It’s a chance, at this point in time, that we have to take. Let there be no mistake,” Graves warned ominously. “The day will soon be upon us when we will be needing the military supplies.”

CC was frowning, troubled, when she whispered and looked at John. “He’s right, you know. They’ve pushed us too far this time. Full independence is the only answer.” The prospect sent a shiver of trepidation through her even as she supported the effort completely.

Graves began to speak again, but he paused as the guard at the door moved to admit a late arrival. When Joshua Smith stepped into the room, all eyes turned in his direction. Hope and distrust mingled in their expressions as they waited, and a hush fell over them as they watched a mysterious, tall, dark-haired man follow Joshua inside.

Mysterious, that is, to everyone but CC. Aghast, CC stared in horror as Lord Noah Kincade strode to the head of the table and shook hands with the leaders gathered there. Anger and outrage filled her as she shifted her chair, unnoticed, farther back into the shadows. What was Kincade doing there? He was the enemy! A nobleman! A liar! Last night he’d been casually sharing a drink with her father, telling him of his arms shipment and how distressed he was over the thought of possible fighting in the colonies. Now…now he was here at a meeting of the rebels!

What game was this slick, arrogant fool trying to play? Just who was Noah Kincade, and what did he stand for? Was he truly a rich English lord who was possibly spying for the governor, or was he an amoral opportunist who would sell anything to anyone for the right price? Both possibilities hardened her heart even more toward him. As she watched him speak privately with Graves, Adams, and Hancock, she wondered if she should reveal all that she knew.

John noticed then that CC had become silent and shifted position when the stranger arrived. He asked her in a low voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really. I just didn’t want to take a chance with my disguise. I don’t like outsiders being invited to our meetings.” CC didn’t know why she refrained from telling John the truth, but she held her tongue and she was grateful when Graves started to speak and drew John’s attention from her discomfort.

“This is Lord Noah Kincade,” Graves introduced him.

Noah’s title did nothing to endear him to those present, and their expressions reflected their hatred and mistrust.

“He owns several ships, one of which is currently en route to Boston laden with military supplies. He is willing to sell those arms to us.”

“Why?” a gruff voice challenged from the back of the room. “You’re an Englishman, right?”

A derisive smile twisted Noah’s lips as he addressed the question coolly. “I am an Englishman, but I am more so a businessman.”

Several snorts of mocking disbelief were heard.