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pay?” Caroline gave her a sly grin. “And what sort of services did he have in mind?”
    Virginia grabbed a sugared biscuit from the table and threw it at her sister, thumping her on the head.
    “Ladies, please.” Aunt Mary cleared her throat. “If we’re to be successful in our mission, we must blend in with the most elite of Boston society. This sort of behavior will not do.”
    “Yes, Aunt Mary.” Caroline picked up the biscuit from her lap, where it had fallen, and eliminated the assault weapon by eating it.
    “Dear Lord.” Virginia caught her breath with a startling thought. “Since Quincy Stanton is a Tory, he might attend the same parties we do.”
    Her sister stifled a giggle.
    “I’m sure he will.” Mary smiled. “I’ve heard every Tory hostess in town wants the charming Quincy Dearling Stanton at her party.”
    “Quincy Dearling ?” Virginia wrinkled her nose as if a skunk had marched into the parlor and promptly died.
    “ ’Tis a family name,” Mary explained. “His father is the Earl of Dearlington. ’Tis not an endearment.”
    “I should say not.” Virginia shuddered. She recalled the moment his gray eyes had locked with hers and the intense, searching look he had given her. If they met again, would he remember her? “I only hope I will not see the horrid Quincy Stanton again.”

 
    C HAPTER T HREE
    Saturday, October 7, 1769
    “O h, no. ’Tis the horrid Quincy Stanton.” Virginia turned her back to the elegantly dressed man as he made an entrance at the Higgenbottoms’ ball. “Aunt Mary, I cannot remain here.”
    “It would be rude to leave this early. Come.” Mary led her to the far side of the huge parlor. “There are so many people here, I doubt he will notice you.”
    Virginia opened her fan with trembling fingers. “I shall be forced to hide behind a fan for the entire evening.” She peeked over the top of her fan, observing the man in sky-blue velvet with silver buttons as he made a leg to the hostess. Beside him stood the young boy purchased on The North Star , well groomed and also dressed in blue velvet. The boy’s appearance closely matched that of his employer, from his white powdered wig to the polished silver buckles on his shoes.
    Without a glance, Quincy Stanton tossed his silver-tipped ebony cane to the side. The boy nabbed it in midair. Quincy removed his lace-edged tricorne and dropped it to the side without a look. The boy caught it, also. During the entire scenario, Quincy conversed with the hefty Mrs. Higgenbottom with apparent charm, for she responded with booming laughter.
    “He certainly has that boy well trained,” Mary observed.
    Virginia snorted behind her fan. “I wonder how many hours they practiced that ridiculous little scene.”
    Across the room, a young lady in rose brocade let out a delighted squeal. “Quincy Stanton!” She skipped toward him, blond curls bouncing, with both hands extended. “How marvelous of you to come. And fie on you for arriving late. I was quite terrified I would languish to death from boredom.”
    Virginia could not make out his low comment from across the room, but the young lady responded with a high-pitched giggle, rapped Quincy on the shoulder with her fan, and announced to everyone with her strident voice, “Oh, Quincy Dearling, you are insatiable!”
    A rainbow of silk-gowned, beauty-marked ladies joined in with a musical score of trilling laughter.
    Virginia shut her fan with a snap. “I think I am going to be ill.”
    “Pay him no heed, Ginny. We’re here for more important matters.”
    Virginia checked on her sister, who, with her emerald green eyes and flaming red curls, was collecting her own group of admirers. “I wish we had not included Caroline in our plans. She’s only fifteen and thinks this is nothing more than an amusing game.”
    Mary whispered behind her fan, “I made it very clear to her that she must not introduce the subject of politics. So, if she finds out anything, it will be