Alex and Eliza: A Love Story(72)

As for his own hopes about the newly married Eliza? Gone. All my plans—all my love—undone at a stroke. Married already, and to that cretin.

A figure emerged from beneath the shadow of one of the great maples. Alex thought to duck away to avoid human congress, but a thin male voice, not yet done with the slide whistle of adolescent tunes, halloed:

“Colonel Hamilton?”

He didn’t recognize the speaker until he was closer, however, and the sight filled him with a strange mixture of jealousy and tenderness.

“Mr. Van Rensselaer,” he called. “You are up late.”

Stephen was young enough that Alex would have been well within his rights to call him Master Van Rensselaer rather than Mr. Van Rensselaer, to say “up past your bedtime” rather than “up late,” but he wasn’t feeling much like teasing anyone at this moment.

“As are you, sir. Are you coming from Colonel Livingston’s party?”

Alex turned on him sharply, but there was no trace of enmity in the boy’s voice. He was too young to realize that his words might sting. Might make their hearer want to pull his sword from its scabbard and slice off the head of the speaker.

“Aye,” he said, “Colonel Livingston seems to have commandeered every bottle and every plate of food in camp. Lieutenant Larpent and I went there upon our return from Amboy to get something to eat. Were you there? I didn’t see you.”

Stephen nodded. “A strange party. The host was never seen by anyone.”

That’s because he’s off being married somewhere. Although the marriage would have taken place hours ago by now. By now, he was—

No, Alex told himself. Do not think of it. It is uncharitable of you and will just torment you more.

“Indeed,” was all he said to Stephen. “Though his guests seemed to have had a good-enough time. I suppose they need it. It has been a long, hard winter, but I fear a harder spring.”

“So I understand. The war seems to be shifting to the south. You yourself are to lead the Third New Jersey to Charleston, I hear.”

Alex laughed. “I should be shocked that you know that, given that you are not a soldier, let alone an officer.”

“I would enlist!” Stephen said defensively. “Papa forbade it, but I went anyway. But when I got to camp the sergeants refused to accept me. They said my father’s money was more valuable to them than his son. Apparently he pays a lot for the privilege of keeping me alive through this war.”

“You are young, Master Van Rensselaer,” Alex said in teasing but tender tone. “There will be plenty of other wars. You may yet die in one of them.”

Stephen laughed, his adolescent voice cracking again, and Alex continued: “I must ask, though, how did you learn of my assignment? Although it is not exactly top secret, still, it is surprising that it should have circulated so quickly outside of officers’ ranks.”

“My fiancée is a general’s daughter and rather gifted at wheedling secrets from even the most reticent men. Not as good at keeping them, however,” he added, laughing.

“What, your fiancée! Is it official, then?”

Stephen slapped his cheek. “Look at me! Teasing Peggy for gossiping even as I fall guilty of it myself. It must be the beer,” he added, though Alex smelled no alcohol on his breath. “Well, yes, since the cat is out of the bag: I asked her some months ago, and she accepted me. We are keeping it a secret, though, because I am not yet of age. My father has approved the marriage, but General Schuyler is rather strict about his daughters’ prospects. I think he doesn’t approve that I am not in uniform since I am already seventeen, even though my own father has made it impossible for me to enlist.”

“General Schuyler is a man of such great honor and wherewithal that he sometimes fails to realize not all men can act with his independence. He will come around.” Alex cuffed the boy on the shoulder in a brotherly way. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stephen added. “And may I add . . .” His voice caught nervously.

Alex thought he knew what he was going to say. “It is not necessary, Mr. Van Rensselaer.”

“Perhaps not. But I would still like to say that I would very much have enjoyed having you as a brother-in-law. We would have made a fine trio, you, me, and Mr. Church. They would have called us the Schuyler husbands, I think.”

It was a moment before Alex trusted himself to speak.

“They are a unique set of girls, it is true. Formidable as individuals, but terrifying together. A set of modern-day Furies. But not as vengeful I hope.”

“And without the snakes for hair, thanks heavens,” Stephen said, laughing. “And look, they have called us to them without our even knowing.”

Alex looked up, and there indeed was the Cochrans’ handsome home. All its windows were dark save for those in the downstairs parlor.

“Someone is up late there as well.”

“They had their own party for—” Stephen’s voice broke off nervously. “Peggy told me it was just her and Kitty Livingston.”

“Kitty Livingston,” Alex mused. “You know, she was the first American girl I met.”

“What an introduction!” Stephen said. “I’m surprised you didn’t run back to the Indies.”

“Indeed. I wasn’t sure if I loved her or wanted to run in terror. She is like the three Schuyler sisters rolled into one, yet she hasn’t the . . . restraint that they have. It will be a strong man who marries her, or else—I say, it seems rather agitated in there.”