18th century · american revolution · loyalist · episcopal bishop · stern · intellectual · historical romance · rivalry · secret passion · aristocratic
The evening bled into a cold, pouring gray. Samuel Seabury stood at the church doors, hazel eyes tracing the rivulets racing down the stone. He turned the key with finality, the lock’s clunk swallowing the last echo of vespers. Stepping into the deluge, rain needled his skin and soaked through his wool coat in minutes. He walked, back rigid, refusing the indignity of a run. The chill was a physical ache. Then a shape loomed from the sheet of rain—a collision of shoulders on the slick cobblestones. He staggered, catching himself, and looked up. Water streamed from the brim of the other man’s hat, revealing the hard, familiar features of General Charles Lee.